


Neither Angels, Nor Demons, Nor Powers

by long_LIV_prairies



Series: Westerkamp Verses [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Actual Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Death, Consent is Sexy, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Characters in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Canon Relationship(s) - Freeform, Original Character Death(s), Past Sexual Assault, Personal Demons, Possible inability to have children, Slow Burn, Smut, Threats of Violence, and gals, learning to live, the smut is here guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 118
Words: 554,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/long_LIV_prairies/pseuds/long_LIV_prairies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siblings Naomi and James Westerkamp were living normal lives, attending school, looking for jobs, wishing they didn't have to live with their parents.</p><p>Their lives were good. They were stable. They were safe.</p><p>That was ripped away when an explosion and a flash of green light knocked them out while hiking with their family on vacation. Naomi and James woke injured and confused in a strange world with technology centuries in the past, magic, and mythical creatures that only existed in stories.</p><p>But they were also dropped into the middle of a conflict they could only begin to understand, where fighting demons was more than just a figure of speech.</p><p>Life in Thedas is dangerous, adjusting isn’t easy, and things get worse before they get better.</p><p>Explicit rating doesn't really apply until chapter 76. This is a sloooow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through the Fade

**Author's Note:**

> And I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, no power in the sky above or in the earth below – indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God. – Romans 8: 38-39  
> 

Naomi Westerkamp sat on a rock, scrolling through the pictures on her camera she had taken so far on the hike. Most were of the surrounding mountains, but there were nearly as many of flowers and plants she had encountered along the way, though half of the photographs were out of focus. In addition, she had at least three replicates of each landscape composition. She considered that she should start deleting some of the duplicates, but her memory card was far from full, and though she tried to ignore it, she kept getting distracted by the argument drifting from across the clearing.

“And what are you going to do in Austin? Have you looked for jobs.” her mom asked her younger brother James.

“I’ll figure it out…,” James grumbled.

“You can’t just move without a plan. You need to find a job, a place to live…” their mom continued, voice raised slightly.

“I know that!” James returned, his own voice near yelling. “Just drop it, I can take care of myself.” Their mom laughed. Naomi glanced away from her camera’s screen to see James glaring.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” their mom said. A moment’s silence, and Naomi thought they were done. “Well, you better find a better job than working in a restaurant if you’re going to pay for everything. And you’ll have student loans to pay…”

“Well Makenzie and I can split rent, so...” Naomi winced. _Why did he have to bring that up…?_

“You what!?” their mom yelled, shooting daggers from her eyes toward James. Naomi shot a glance toward her younger sister Abigail, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Abigail rolled her eyes, and buried her face back in her sketchbook, pencil scratching furiously across the page.

“Aleida…” Naomi’s dad said wearily. “We’re on vacation, not now…” Her mom turned her glare to her husband.

“No! He can’t just move halfway across the country and live with his girlfriend! They’re not even married!” Naomi watched James stand, angrily stuffing his water bottle back in his backpack. “Where are you going!?” James swung the backpack over his shoulder and turned up the trail.

“I’m not going to stay here and listen to you yell at me!” he shouted, walking away. Naomi sighed. _So much for a fun family trip…_

“Wait for me!” her youngest brother David yelled, running up the trail after James with long, loping strides.

“What is he thinking!?” her mom continued to rant, turning to Naomi’s dad. “And I don’t need you undermining me like that Hans. Does he have any idea what moving will be like? He’s not responsible enough for this. And I am _not_ going to let him live with Makenzie…”

“I know that Aleida, he’s not ready for this…”

“Can you two just give him a break!?” Naomi finally yelled, glaring at her parents. “He’s not a kid, he can figure it out for himself.” She turned off the camera and put it back in its case, standing and collecting her own things to follow her brothers. She had heard enough of her family’s bickering for one day.

“And where are you going?” her mom asked. Naomi rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m trying to have an enjoyable hike, so I’m going ahead on my own where I don’t have to listen to you guys.” She started walking. “See you at the top of the trail,” she muttered, half to herself as she left the clearing.

Nearly an hour later, Naomi found herself scrambling over rocks, trying to breathe deeply and control her racing heart. She paused and pulled out her water bottle, drinking deeply. She looked back, but was unable to find the figures of her family, and wondered where they could be, hoping that her mom’s knee injury hadn’t caused her trouble. She had had surgery less than a year before, but her mom was too stubborn to give up a day of hiking with her family. But Naomi really couldn’t blame her for that.

Naomi looked ahead, eyes following the trail leading up the valley, toward a small glacier that flowed down from the peaks in a dirty white cascade. She searched for her brothers, finding their figures already at the top of the trail. James was standing with his hands on his hips on the rocky ledge that marked the head of the valley, David next to him, mirroring his stance. Naomi shook her head. She had thought she was making good time, but James and David were definitely fitter than anyone else in the family, and when James was in a mood to move, nothing would slow him down. Still, she knew it didn’t help that she stopped every few minutes to take pictures.

With a sigh Naomi returned her water bottle to its pouch and continued forward. She estimated she would reach her brothers in the next ten minutes, unsure of how long it would take the rest of the family to catch up. She looked forward to those few minutes alone with her brothers. She loved her family, but by the fifth day of vacation nerves were grating, as the argument at the last water break had shown. She wished she could say it was the first time it had happened, but arguments such as those were nearly daily occurrences. It was exhausting, after a while, especially when this trip was supposed to be a time to get away from work and enjoy the mountains.

The valley they were hiking was carved out by a glacier whose only remnant was the trickle of ice at the head of the valley. This far into the valley, most of the surrounding mountains were blocked from view, but looking back revealed several sharp peaks. It was the end of July, so even here, in the Canadian Rockies, the summits were nearly devoid of snow. As she climbed, Naomi breathed in the fresh, pine-scented air and smiled. Her family was from Nebraska, in the middle of the USA, and though she loved her home, she always looked forward to the annual vacations her family took, when they could escape the flat, humid interior of the North American continent and enjoy the clean air and soaring vistas of the mountains. This was supposed to be a special trip, as it was the first time they had ventured to another country, but it was proving to be more stressful than anything else.

Still, as she approached the end of the trail, she felt most of her stress melting away. She found it difficult to stay angry with her family for long, and being outside always raised her spirits. Hopefully everyone else would similarly calm down by the time they were all back together.

With a final burst of energy, Naomi finished her climb and headed toward her brothers. They had moved away from the edge of the overlook and were sitting by some rocks near the stream that originated from the glacier a few hundred feet further up. With burning legs, Naomi joined them, pulling her backpack off her shoulders. After rolling the tension from her limbs she sat down, pulling out her water bottle and a granola bar. Shifting on the rock so her butt was more comfortable, she appreciated the view.

“Naomi, how far behind are they?” James asked, chewing on his own granola bar. She took a bite and shrugged.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t see them on the trail when I got to the top.”

“God, they’re so slow!” James criticized, reaching for his water bottle. “I don’t know why Mom and Abby even come.”

“Yeah, it would be so much more fun if it was just us and Dad,” David chimed in. Naomi looked at her younger brother, over a decade her junior and just entering his teenage years. She shook her head.

“That’s not fair. Just because you two like to rush ahead doesn’t mean everyone does. And Mom just had knee surgery, so of course she’s going to go slowly. It’s not fair to expect them to stay behind.”

“Well I’d rather not have to deal with Mom’s criticism all the time,” James grumbled. Naomi raised her eyebrows at her brother.

“Well, maybe you should have found a better time to tell them you’re moving in with Makenzie.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” James scoffed. “Besides, we were going to get engaged first…” Naomi raised her eyebrows in surprise. Not because her brother was planning on getting married, but because he had told her about his plans.

“Hey, I agree with you. But you knew how they would react to finding this out.”

“It’s stupid,” James said, stuffing his face with more food. Naomi turned to her own food, thinking about her brother and her parents. It wasn’t completely fair for them to be so worried about him getting a job. It wasn’t like she had one at the moment. They were both living at home, and James at least had more of a plan. She knew he was already looking for jobs, despite what her parents thought, and now he was going to propose to Makenzie, his girlfriend of almost four years.

And while she had a Master’s degree in biology, she had spent months trying to decide what she was going to do next. Finding a job in prairie conservation had been difficult, so she had moved home. Which would have been fine, but the house was crowded and nearly all of her high school and college friends had moved away from her hometown, gotten married, were having kids… Still, after contemplating leaving biology entirely and pursuing further education with that bachelor’s degree in anthropology she’d gotten, she had finally gotten a foot in with a researcher at Iowa State University, and was seriously considering going for a PhD. But that was still months away, so in the meantime she was living off of the goodwill of her parents.

Having finished her food, she wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty face, and rested her chin in her hands, watching a ptarmigan a few feet away emerge from the bushes. Pointing out the bird to her brothers, she reached for her camera. But as she brought the device up to her eyes, her vision suddenly filled with bright green light, and the quiet of the mountains was punctured by an explosion. Before she could scream or turn her head, her body was jerked from its perch, the movement stealing the air from her lungs and making her stomach lurch, as if she was falling. An unbearable roaring filled her ears, and her world went dark.

 

\----- 

 

Cullen Rutherford lowered his sword, taking a moment to catch his breath as he surveyed the battlefield. He noticed two soldiers who had fallen from the latest wave of demons, their armor charred from their encounter with a molten rage demon. He counted the troops remaining in his squad, grimacing at the numbers. _We can’t take much more of this… but they just keep coming._

It had been two days. Two days since the sky had torn and the world had started to fall apart. He glanced at the sky, at the swirling, boiling green mass of clouds that marked the source of their problems. The Breach. Even as he watched, it flashed, and a piece broke off from the main maelstrom, hurtling from the heights. He followed its trajectory, stomach clenching as it disappeared behind a hill, green light flashing from the impact. For days these new rifts had been falling from the Breach, with no pattern, no way to know where they would appear. But from every one poured demons, threatening to overrun the survivors of the initial explosion.

He turned to his troops, motioning with his sword. “There, another rift! With me!”

When they reached the rift, Cullen felt a small stab of relief. The only figures moving beneath the crystalline rift were a few of the wispy green demons. They could attack from a distance, but were the easiest to destroy, once they were reached. It would be a welcome relief, by comparison, to some of the other demons they had encountered.

He charged with his troops, aiming for the furthest wisp, to save the other’s energy as much as he could. Shield up, he caught the balls of energy hurled from the demon, and when he reached the figure, destroyed it with a sweep of his sword.

Turning back, he saw the other wisps had been destroyed, with no casualties to his…

“Commander!” He turned to the source of the voice. “You should see this!” He jogged toward the soldier, noting the man was standing over a body. His heart sank a notch, dreading to see who had fallen during this attack.

But as he got closer, he could see that the fallen man was not wearing armor. In fact, Cullen realized the man was wearing hardly anything at all, only a pair of bright red, short breeches and a short-sleeved tunic with strange symbols covered his body. The soldier had bent down, inspecting the body.

“He’s alive,” he said, carefully turning the strange man to his back. Cullen bent down, inspecting the man himself.

He had dark hair, nearly black, not cut long enough to cover his eyes. It was dirty, a piece of red cloth tied around his head in a band. Cullen could tell the man was tall, even lying on the ground, and well built, though not particularly strong, and clearly not trained as a fighter. He also had a bright blue bag strapped to his back.

“Where’d he come from?” the soldier asked. Cullen shook his head, testing the man for signs of magic. He could detect a whisper of… something, but he didn’t trust his judgement at the moment, not with the Breach and rift so close, or his waning Templar abilities. He did not think the man was a mage, but he could not understand how he had come to be beneath a rift, dressed this way and unarmed.

“I’m not sure, but he’s alive. Find someone to help you take him back to Haven…”

“Commander! Over here! A woman and a child!” Cullen stood, quickly crossing the clearing, eyeing the rift warily, looking for signs that more demons were about to come through. But the rift was quiet.

He reached the group gathered around the new figures, his confusion growing when he saw them. A woman, dressed in even less clothing than the other man, breeches barely covering her upper thighs, tunic sleeveless and cut low across the chest, all in similar bright colors, was tightly holding a tall, thin child, dressed like the man. The woman’s hair was light brown, pulled back and tangled, her skin tan, shoulders and face covered in freckles. The boy was blonde, skin also darkened from the sun, and Cullen detected a familial resemblance between the three. The adults were clearly not old enough to be parents of the child, and he decided they were likely siblings. And unlike the dark-haired man, the woman and child were clearly injured.

The boy had a large wound on his head, still seeping blood that ran into his dirty hair, and scratches covered his arms, with bruises everywhere, his clothing ripped. The woman also had a head wound, near her right eye, and a deep cut opening up her right thigh. She was also covered in additional scratches, her tunic ripped and stained with blood. The worst, however, was the obvious bend in her arm, the bones underneath broken. But though they were unconscious, they were alive.

At that moment the rift began to crackle, and Cullen’s skin crawled as it began to expand and throw out green tendrils of light. _Maker… more demons…_

He stood and turned to the closest soldier. “Get a group to take these three back to Haven, make sure their injuries are seen to. Find something to eat, then return as soon as you can. These demons show no sign of slowing.” The woman saluted, then yelled for a group to take the injured people back. Cullen turned to the rift, a shade materializing a few feet away. He gripped his sword, moved toward the demon, and prayed to the Maker for strength, and that this nightmare would soon end.


	2. Waking Up

The first thing Naomi noticed was the pain. Not a sharp pain, but a dull ache that permeated her whole body, with the strongest ache emanating from her right arm. But as she took a deep breath, shifting her torso slightly, a searing pain stabbed through her side. She exhaled slowly, reigning in her impulse to cry out.

The second thing she noticed was the cold. Her midsection was warm enough, but her extremities stung with the pain that came with prolonged exposure to the elements. She attempted to move her fingers, but found them stiff, and it took a good dose of willpower to curl her hands into fists.

The third thing she noticed were the sounds. Metal was clashing faintly somewhere in the distance, as well as the low rumble that only a crowd could make, occasionally punctuated by a shout. Closer, she could detect the soft murmur of conversation and the sloshing of water.

The fourth thing she noticed was the smell. Smoke tickled her nose, but mixed in with its familiarity were less pleasant undertones of body odor, urine, and a pungent, sickly sweet odor she couldn’t place. Underneath it all Naomi could detect the faint scent of pine.

Finally, Naomi noticed the hunger. Her stomach ached like she had never felt before, and the emptiness left her near tears. Nearly as bad was her thirst. Her attempts to swallow were nearly impossible and did nothing to remove the metallic taste of iron from her mouth.

Wanting to put these seemingly random sensations into context, Naomi went to open her eyes, only to suppress another whimper of pain as the motion tugged at the skin near her right eye. Sighing a little, she resigned herself to lying still on the… bed… she was in. Confused, she focused on the surface below her body. Instead of the rocks she expected to feel under her back, a smooth expanse of fabric contoured slightly around her body, and she realized she was lying on a cot, not a bed. _Wait, why would I be lying on rocks? Wait. Why am I lying on a cot?_ She saw a glacier in her mind, hanging under a bright blue sky, a small stream of water flowing down the rocks under the sun. _I was hiking with everybody, sitting on a rock next to James and David. We were waiting for everybody else and I saw that ptarmigan. I was going to take a picture of it. And then…_

_Green light. A sensation of falling. The deafening roar of an explosion…_

Panicked, Naomi let out a cry and forced her eyes open, ignoring the pain that tugged at her injured eye. Adrenaline spiked through her veins, and she forced herself to sit up on her elbows, only to cry out again as the dull ache in her right arm became suddenly more pronounced, and her ribs protested. Slightly blinded by the sudden influx of light, Naomi searched frantically for her brothers, calling out their names. Her vision was slightly blurred, and she tried to comprehend what she was seeing. Light colored walls sloped over her head. _Not walls,_ she realized, _cloth. A tent. How did I get here?_ Lowering her gaze, Naomi swept her eyes over a row of cots opposite her, every one of them occupied. Searching the forms for any sign of her brothers, Naomi thought she saw a figure with the dark, shaggy hair of James, and called out his name one more time before movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention away. Breathing heavily, she dropped her jaw slightly as two women rushed toward her from across the tent.

Whatever she expected, it was not this. The women, one with dark hair, the other gray, were dressed as if attending a Medieval reenactment. They wore long-sleeved, simple dresses with blood-stained aprons, and worried expressions. The gray-haired woman was speaking, reaching her hands toward Naomi, but she couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. Reaching Naomi, the woman gently pushed her shoulders back, forcing her to lay back own on the cot

“Mae'n rhaid i chi orwedd i lawr, yr ydych yn cael eu hanafu,” she said as Naomi allowed herself to be lowered back to a horizontal position. Shaking her head, Naomi tried to make sense of what the woman was saying. Peering intently at Naomi’s face, the woman gently touched her right cheek and spoke again, this time to the other woman. Naomi winced slightly at her touch, noticing for the first time that warm blood was trickling down her face. The older woman spoke again to her companion. She was handed a small wooden bowl and a cloth, and, after dipping the cloth in the bowl, started to dab gently at Naomi’s face. Naomi winced again as the liquid stung her injury. The women continued their conversation and Naomi studied them as the gray-haired woman cleaned her face. It was painfully obvious to Naomi that they were not speaking English, and she felt the rise of panic in her chest.

_What are they saying? Why aren’t they speaking English, we were only in Canada? How did I get hurt? The explosion. That must have been it! But why am I not in a hospital? And what are they wearing? What is going on?! And where are my brothers, the rest of my family? Are they alright… I need to find them! I need…._

“Beth yw eich enw?” Naomi was pulled from her thoughts by the gray-haired woman, who was finished with her face. The woman was looking at Naomi expectantly, and she knew she had to try to communicate. _Maybe she speaks English_ , she thought. But, as Naomi opened her mouth to speak, she knew that this woman wouldn’t, and she felt the beginning of tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you. Do you speak English? Where are my brothers, James and David? My parents, my sister Abigail? Where am I? Why are you dressed like that? Why are we in a tent, and where’s the rest of my family? What… why…?”

Naomi trailed off as the woman’s pleasant expression started to fall. The woman frowned and asked her another question. Naomi simply shook her head, feeling tears break free and start to run down her face. Sighing, the woman directed her next comment toward the other woman.

“Rwy'n credu ei bod yn ddryslyd, efallai ei phen yn cael ei anafu. Dewch â diod iachau mi.” Blinking to stop the tears, Naomi watched the dark-haired woman get up and walk across the tent. She started sorting through the bottles on a table, but Naomi’s attention was suddenly wrenched back when she felt the blankets covering her body being pulled back. Naomi gasped as she was suddenly exposed to the cold air. Instinctively, Naomi brought her arms up to cover her chest, only to have the gray-haired woman snatch them back down. She felt a deep blush start to rise up her neck and face, but after glancing down her body, Naomi momentarily forgot her nakedness.

Her right arm was wrapped in some kind of splint, but worse were the series of bruises and scratches that covered her body. The largest bruise, a sickly purple thing, starting to yellow slightly around the edges, spread across much of her right hip, and her upper right thigh was wrapped in a bandage. Her caretaker began to gently prod her torso, and Naomi gasped as she felt the sharp pain of what she could only imagine were broken ribs. Muttering to herself, the woman called across the tent to her companion, then turned back to Naomi’s injuries. Unwrapping the bandages on her leg, Naomi’s eyes widened when she saw the deep gash cut diagonally across the flesh. Swallowing, Naomi closed her eyes and laid her head back down.

_What the fuck happened?_

The dark-haired woman had returned with her supplies and Naomi opened her eyes when she felt ointment applied to her leg. She began to cry again, and closed her eyes. Naomi had gotten tattoos and painful piercings, but this whole-body permeating pain, combined with fear and confusion, was overwhelming. It was becoming clear to Naomi that wherever she was, these people didn’t have access to modern medicine, including pain killers.

A touch on Naomi’s shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. The dark-haired woman repositioned her blankets, then gently lifted her head and brought a cup to her lips. Remembering how thirsty she was, Naomi eagerly drank the liquid, only to choke at the unexpected bitter taste. After she had quieted, the woman brought the cup back to Naomi’s mouth, and she forced herself to finish the contents. Naomi could only assume it was supposed to be some sort of medicine, but how effective it would be she couldn’t begin to imagine. Without letting her head down, the woman reached for a bowl. Wincing, Naomi started to protest, but stopped as she caught a whiff of the contents. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she remembered her hunger. Drinking down the meaty broth greedily, Naomi wasn’t nearly sated when it was gone. Finally, Naomi was given a large drink of water which helped to reduce her thirst. After her meager meal was finished, her caretaker released Naomi’s head, adjusting the blankets one last time, indicated to Naomi that she was to stay lying down, then left.

Lying on her cot, Naomi tried to take stock of her situation. She still didn’t know where the rest of her family was, but she hoped that since she was alive, her brothers were as well. Naomi felt tears threatening again, as confusion over the situation returned. She knew there had been an explosion, but, with her injuries, she should be in a hospital, not this tent with such primitive medicine. Except, _maybe it isn’t so primitive,_ Naomi thought as warmth began spreading through her body, noticeably reducing the various pains in her body. Whatever they had given her was clearly starting to work. But the language! _What were they speaking…?_ It was not a language Naomi was familiar with, and she couldn’t begin to make sense of why they would be speaking it in Canada. _Maybe someone else will speak English here…_ But she felt in her gut that that would not happen, and it scared her. _I need to find James and David. They’re probably hurt too!_

Finding the women who helped Naomi busy with another patient, she carefully raised herself back into a more upright position with her good arm. Taking more time to inspect the other patients, Naomi almost cried with relief when she saw David lying in the cot next to her, a bandage wrapped around his head and a colorful bruise splashed across his jaw. Though not awake, Naomi convinced herself he was alright when she saw his chest gently rising and falling, and she moved on to find James. There were maybe twenty cots crammed into the tent, and it was hard to get a good look at all of them without sitting up further. Gritting her teeth, Naomi eased herself even further up, straining her neck to search the cots.

Each cot was occupied, and it was clear that many of the occupants were in much worse shape than herself. Naomi also noticed, glancing around, that she was the only woman in the tent, aside from the healers. She blushed, feeling suddenly very vulnerable, knowing the only thing that separated her from exposure was a layer of blankets. Trying to ignore her unease, Naomi searched for the dark head of hair she had noticed earlier. Her heart sank when she realized it wasn’t James.

Then, from the other direction, Naomi heard a shout that she knew was his. Whipping her head around, she saw him, struggling to get up from his cot, frantically looking around, shouting, “David! Naomi! Look out!”

The women who had helped Naomi ran quickly toward him, trying to push him back on the cot. He tried to push them aside, still attempting to stand.

“James! I’m over here! Calm down, please! You might hurt yourself!” He calmed a little bit and looked at Naomi, who was now fully sitting up, clutching the blankets over her chest. They made eye contact, and Naomi saw confusion cross his face as he started to take in the surroundings. Frowning at the women trying desperately to make him lie down, he turned back to Naomi.

“What’s going on? Where are Mom and Dad, and why are we in this tent?” He shrugged off the touch of the gray-haired woman.

“James, please calm down. Let them help you, you’re probably hurt. I don’t know where Mom and Dad are, and I have no clue what’s going on. I— I don’t think those women speak English and— and I don’t know what to do! I don’t know where we are.” Tears were coming in earnest now, and Naomi really started to panic. The women had been nice so far, but she was confused and tired, hungry and in pain.

It was then that Naomi noticed the women who were helping them had backed away from James, and several of the occupants of cots were sitting up as well, glancing between the two of them with expressions varying from confusion to anger to fear. Naomi’s heart raced faster. James had been saying something to her, but she wasn’t paying attention as she watched the reactions in the tent. And as the dark-haired woman hurried from the tent, she turned back to James.

“James, shh, stop it… seriously! Be quiet!” she said, “These people don’t seem to be very happy… with us…” Naomi trailed off as the man across the tent from her slowly reached for a…. knife? Swallowing, Naomi tried to keep from crying, and thankfully James seemed to notice the tension in the tent as well, and went silent. Overwhelmed, Naomi tried to think of something she could do to relieve the tension when, from outside, she heard voices growing louder.

Looking to the entrance at her left, Naomi’s eyes once again opened wide and her mouth hung open as she watched the new arrivals enter. Whatever she had thought before, Naomi knew something had happened to her and her brothers beyond any explanation or comprehension. The men and women who entered the tent were dressed head to foot in armor, and she knew right away that it was no costume or act. The dents, scratches, and what she could only guess was dried blood that covered their armor was too realistic to have been replicated, and the way these people held themselves could only have been from confidence in knowing that they could use the swords strapped to their hips.

The dark-haired woman returned to the tent last, and the gray-haired woman walked away from James’s side of the tent to talk to the tall, blonde man who had been the first to enter the tent. His armor was the most ornate, and a large, feathery… thing, circled his shoulders.  He glanced between Naomi and her brother, frowning slightly as he conversed with the gray-haired woman. She pointed at the still-sleeping form of David and a slightly confused expression crossed his apprehensive face. He asked her another question, then frowned even deeper at her answer. At some point, Naomi’s tears had stopped, but her heart still raced as the blonde man finally settled his gaze on her, bringing his hands to the pommel of his sword.

Naomi had never been so scared in her life.


	3. First Meetings

Cullen sighed and rubbed his fingers across his eyes. He could feel a headache starting to form, although it was mercifully faint at the moment. He still wasn’t used to the constant ache behind his temples, and some days were worse than others. It had been a few months since he had left the Templar Order, at Cassandra’s request, and breaking free from his use of lyrium was taking its toll. But he was determined to see his decision through. At least the Breach was stable.

He was reviewing the list of recruits, determining numbers and finding appropriate placements among the troops, when he heard a woman calling for him outside of his tent. Making sure his sword was strapped to his hip, Cullen emerged into the open air. One of the healers was worriedly glancing between him and the healer’s tent, frantically wringing her hands. Immediately on edge, Cullen gripped his sword.

“Eugenia, what’s wrong?”

The raven-haired woman pointed to the healer’s tent, breathlessly mumbling through an explanation. “Commander…there are two people – a man and a woman – they just woke up. They’re…speaking a strange language. We can’t understand them. They were found near a rift…and we don’t know….” She trailed off. Cullen moved toward the tent, motioning to a few of the Templars in the camp to follow. He had forgotten about the people found beneath the rift in the chaos, but now that he remembered… he had questions, and if they were speaking a strange language, those questions were potentially even more important. Whoever they were, considering the events of the last few days, it was worth investigating.

“Be on guard. We don’t know who these people are or what they are capable of,” Cullen instructed before ducking into the healer’s tent. He wrinkled his nose at the stench twenty or more injured persons crammed into a single tent created, and quickly assessed the situation.

Everyone in the tent was on edge, their attention directed at one of two people, who he recognized as those they had found beneath the rift. The woman was sitting up in a cot, clutching a blanket across her chest, brown hair falling around her rounded face in disarray, the wound beneath her eye an angry red line. Unconcealed shock and fear covered her face, her mouth hanging slightly open, tear-filled eyes darting between Cullen and the Templars who had entered. At the far end of the tent, the man with dark hair was sitting on his cot, bare-chested and glaring at the other occupants of the tent. But he too looked shocked when he caught sight of Cullen and the Templars. Seeing these people so clearly afraid, not to mention essentially naked, he relaxed slightly, turning to speak with the lead healer.

“Lasia, what is the problem here?”

“Commander, I’m sorry to bother you, Eugenia may have acted prematurely. These two people have been unconscious for two days. When they woke, they were speaking to each other in a language I don’t recognize. They seem… very confused.”

“I was there when they were found beneath the rift. I hoped to ask them questions…”

“They don’t seem to understand Common.” Cullen frowned. While many languages existed in Thedas, rarely was someone encountered who didn’t speak the common tongue.

“There was a young boy with the woman when we found them. Is he here?” The healer nodded.

“Yes, in the cot there. He hasn’t improved since he was brought in.” Cullen shook his head. Things weren’t making sense. Finding them below the rift was certainly suspicious, but surely if these people had malicious intent, they would not be travelling with a child. Glancing between the man and woman, Cullen realized he had no reason to believe they _were_ dangerous. In fact, sitting on their cots in various stages of undress, they looked the furthest from it. _And terrified_ , Cullen thought, looking again at the woman. He saw her draw a sharp breath when he placed a hand on is sword, her eyes darting to his side, then over to her companion.

Most likely they were foreigners caught up in the chaos of the Conclave. But the tension in the tent was palpable, with nearly half of the cot’s occupants looking ready to attack, injuries and all. Cullen could understand their apprehension. The people in Haven were searching for someone to blame for the Conclave explosion, and it would be easy to latch onto these strange people found near a rift. But he would not jump to such conclusions.

But he also would make no assumptions that they were _not_ responsible. The elf who had stepped out of the Fade, marked with the Anchor, had stabilized the Breach the day before and was no longer considered responsible for the destruction of the Conclave. But a strange voice had been heard at the Breach. Everyone was left searching for answers, Cullen included.

Making a decision, Cullen turned to the Templars behind him. “Katri, send someone to fetch Leliana, Cassandra, and…Solas as well. Then, arrange three tents to be emptied for these people. It may not be safe to leave them here.” The woman nodded and left the tent. Cullen addressed the remaining Templars. “Each of you stand at the head of a cot, as a precaution.” The men he had addressed moved into position.

As a red-haired Templar stood next to the woman, she shrank away, pulling the blankets more completely around her body, wincing at the movement. Then Cullen’s attention was drawn across the tent to the man, who was speaking to the guard and trying to stand, only to have his shoulders pushed down, forcing him to sit. The man started to protest, but the woman interrupted him. Cullen couldn’t understand what she said, but she was clearly pleading with the man, and he seemed to listen to her, staying quiet and seated. Actually hearing this strange language troubled Cullen. It was not Orlesian, Antivan, or Nevarran, and Cullen wondered how far these people had travelled to be here.

“Lasia, where are their belongings?”

Lasia nodded, starting to rummage through a pile of clothing and gear near the tent entrance. “Here… somewhere. We have so many things piled here… let me try to find it. Their clothes were too damaged to be saved…” Lasia pulled out the man’s blue bag from the pile. Cullen frowned and knelt down to examine it more closely. He had never seen fabrics dyed in such bright colors, and he couldn’t determine its material. The clips holding the straps together were also of an unknown material, not metal or wood. A strange, cylindrical object containing water was in one of the pouches on the side of a bag. The object was clear, but it was not glass, and Cullen was again at a loss. He had never seen anything like it, and tried to wrack his memory for any clues that would point to their origin.

Cullen was pulled from his thoughts when Katri returned, informing him that the tents were ready. Standing again, he issued the orders. Katri crossed the tent and helped another Templar, Judd, lift the cot containing the blonde boy, moving it from the tent. The brunette woman reached for him and started to speak, but Alec, her guard, grabbed her arm, lifting her from the cot into a standing position. She cried out, grimacing in pain, and struggled to keep her blanket wrapped around her body with her broken arm, bare shoulders flashing skin. The dark-haired man was fighting with his own guard who was holding his arm, and Cullen indicated for a second Templar to assist.

They were both brought forward, and Cullen could see the woman heavily favored her right leg. She looked back at her companion, clearly panicked. When she was past, Cullen turned back to the healer.

“Lasia, have this bag sent to Ambassador Montilyet in her office.” The gray-haired woman nodded. Cullen ducked out of the tent, into the hustle and bustle of the camp. The ground was covered in snow and the wind stung at his cheeks, but at this point Cullen was used to the cold. Rows of tents stretched in all directions, Haven in the background, surrounded by its wooden walls. Men and women were moving among the tents, carrying baskets and bags, or leading horses around the camp. Beyond the tents a large clearing was filled with soldiers being led in sparring drills. The setting sun was glinting off of the partially ice-covered lake.

Cullen stopped when he noticed the woman had stumbled in front of him. She was kneeling in the snow, staring at the sky. Cullen stepped forward to help her up, catching a glimpse of her features as he did.

Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, eyes shining with unshed tears, long damp lashes encircling their oval shape. And at that moment they were wide, staring at the Breach, her mouth hanging open. As she struggled to her feet, he saw her swallow and heard her whisper _Wat de…_ under her breath. She looked at Cullen, questioning with her eyes, and he caught his breath when he met her gaze.

Her eyes were the strangest color he had ever seen. Or rather, two colors. The irises were primarily blue, brighter than most, and her eyes would be distinct if they were entirely that color. But circling the pupil, stray rays and flecks bursting into the blue, was green. And not just any green. It was the same, unearthly shade as the Breach.

Cullen was pulled from his shock when she closed her eyes. _I must be mistaken,_ he thought. _It was probably just a reflection._

As they continued to walk, Cullen contemplated these people. He seriously doubted they were involved in the Conclave explosion. People could feign their emotions, but his gut told him this woman was not faking her reactions. As they approached their destination, Cullen attempted to put together the puzzle that had been presented to him, but he could not see how the pieces fit.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi opened her eyes when her escorts slowed, just in time to be led into a much smaller tent. A cot and a stool were the only furnishings. She was led to the cot and carefully eased herself down, where she sat, staring at her lap.

_Shit. Where did James go, and David? Shit! Why did I close my eyes?! What if I never see them again…_

Naomi looked up, startled, when the blonde man spoke.

“Os gallwch ddeall, byddai er eich budd gorau i ddweud hynny.” Naomi frowned and shook her head, at a loss. She looked into his face and pleaded in a whisper, “I- I can’t understand you. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know… I don’t know…”

She sighed in defeat and dropped her gaze. At that moment more people entered the tent. The first was a tall woman with short black hair and a pronounced scar on her cheek. She was dressed in worn armor with a sword strapped to her hip. The second was also a woman, dressed in a long chain-mail coat, a purple hood obscuring her face. The last was a bald man. But as he walked across the tent and sat on the stool, Naomi’s mouth opened in surprised disbelief, and she stared at him. _His ears… are pointed._ And it was clear to her that they weren’t just modified human ears. They were far to elongated to be that, and their position on his head wasn’t quite right. _Fuck. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. He looks like an… elf, but that’s impossible…_

Her attention was brought back to the three humans as they began a lively exchange. The dark haired woman was squinting at Naomi suspiciously, gesturing largely. The purple hooded woman was standing with her arms clasped behind her back, making the occasional soft comment or question, also eyeing Naomi with scrutiny. The blonde man was standing with his hands on the pommel of his sword, arguing just as passionately. The… elf… was just staring, leaning toward Naomi, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth. He looked back to the other three when the woman in the hood directed a comment toward him. He frowned, but nodded and looked back at Naomi.

“Byddant yn gwneud eich bywyd yn anodd iawn i chi a'ch gymdeithion os yw'n cael ei datgelu y gallwch ei deall ni. Dyma eich cyfle olaf i ddatgelu'r gwir.” He looked at her expectantly. Hesitantly, she started to talk.

“Please, I really can’t understand you. If anyone here speaks English, please, that’s the only language I know. Or, maybe a few words of Spanish. Espanol? I just want to know what’s going on. And- and explain myself! Everyone looks so angry, but I don’t know what I did. And where did you take my brothers? Why are you treating us like this?!” Naomi was near tears by the end, her frustrations, fears, pain, and exhaustion starting to take their toll. She felt no anger or malice coming from this… elf… and she desperately needed to know not everyone was hostile. She suddenly thought of something that might help build a connection.

Tapping her chest, Naomi said to the elf, “My name is Naomi. _Naomi_.” She thought she saw the bald elf smirk slightly before he pointed back and repeated, “ _Naomi?_ ” Smiling with relief, she nodded, a small seed of hope planted in her mind. That seed put out a small root when the elf pointed to himself and said, “Solas.” Naomi nodded at him, repeating his name.

Solas stood from his seat and addressed the three humans. Whatever he said seemed to calm them, but they all retained confusion. A few more words were exchanged, then Solas turned back to Naomi as the two women left the tent. He knelt down in front of her and she was relieved to see the kindness in his face.

“Yr wyf yn gwybod nad ydych yn gallu deall, ond mae gennych ddim i'w ofni yma. Mae eich gymdeithion yn ddiogel ac ni fydd yn cael ei niweidio. Byddaf yn gweld heno i chi.” He gave Naomi another small smile, then stood and left the tent. The blonde man was the last to leave. He gave Naomi an appraising look before speaking to the armored man still in the tent. The blonde man turned to leave, and Naomi started to panic.

“Wait! What about my brothers? Where are they?” She tried to stand.

“Rhoi'r gorau i,” the man said, holding up a hand. Naomi stopped, sinking back down to the cot. The blonde many looked at her, not unkindly, and shook his head. “Mae'n rhaid i chi aros yma.” Naomi didn’t move, and after a few seconds, the blonde man left. The red-haired soldier pulled the stool over the tent entrance and took a seat.

With a sigh, Naomi eased herself carefully into a horizontal position. It was clear that they did not want her to leave, and though she worried for her brothers, she no longer felt like her life was in imminent danger. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she stared at the ceiling of the tent, trying not to think about the man sitting in the tent. The light was fading fast and her exhaustion was catching up to her. But she couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep. Instead, her mind raced.

_An elf. That man was an elf!_ Naomi tried to focus on the implication of this. If it weren’t for the elf, and the glowing green light in the sky, her best way to explain her circumstances was… time-travel. _God, I must be crazy_ , she thought. But everything was so _real_. This was clearly no ruse, and yet… Naomi couldn’t begin to accept that. And now this _elf_ had showed up. That was not something that occurred on Earth, no matter what period of time, and she considered that she was not on Earth at all. She didn’t believe that her planet was the only one to harbor intelligent life, but now, faced with the evidence to support that hypothesis, she had never wanted to be more wrong in her life.

It was some time later before she finally dropped into unconsciousness, tears drying on her cheeks.


	4. Just a Dream

Naomi stepped out of the shower, wrapping her body in a ragged orange towel. She shivered slightly as she walked from the bathroom to her bedroom, and as she stood in the closet thinking about what to wear, she contemplated her strange dream from the night before.

_Green light, explosions, pain, in a strange place with strange people who she couldn’t understand. Fear and confusion intertwined. Faces. Stern and blonde, blue eyes behind a purple hood, short dark hair with a scarred face, and a bald head with pointed ears…_

Shaking her head to clear the images, Naomi selected a shirt from the closet. The dream had been vivid, more real than any dream she had ever experienced. After pulling on a bra and underwear, she slipped into the top and a pair of skinny jeans. Back in the bathroom she brushed her wet hair and applied make-up for the day. Satisfied with her appearance, she went to grab a bowl of cereal from the kitchen. As she walked around the corner from the kitchen to the living room she stopped in her tracks, dropping her bowl, splattering milk and cereal across her feet and the floor.

She wasn’t alone.

Standing in her living room, gazing intently at the furnishings, TV, and pictures on the wall, was the bald elf from her dream. _Solas_. Naomi stood still for a moment, watching him, her breath quickening as fear started to course through her body. _No. That’s impossible! He can’t be here. He’s not real!_

“I can assure you I am as real as you. I believe this is your dwelling? I’ll admit I began to suspect that you and your companions were more than just foreign travelers, and certainly not demons as Cassandra initially feared, but the truth appears to be far more intriguing than I imagined.” Naomi was surprised when he spoke, not realizing she had voiced her concerns out-loud. Her shock grew when she realized she had understood his words, even though he spoke in a language she had no reason to understand. But understand she did, as if she had been speaking his language since birth.

“No. This isn’t possible. You aren’t here!” Naomi repeated. Then she remembered. She was on vacation with her family. She hadn’t lived in this apartment for months. “I’m still dreaming. I’ll wake up soon and I’ll be with my family in Canada,” her voice shook as she spoke.

“You are indeed dreaming, but you will not wake in ‘Canada’. You’re body remains in Thedas and that is where you will return.”

“No!” Naomi responded, voice rising in anger, “That isn’t possible! I’ve been dreaming this whole time, and I will wake up and this will all have been a dream!” As she spoke the walls of the apartment began to fall away, replaced with empty black. Finally, Solas was the only thing left, looking at her with pity, and then he too fell away, leaving only darkness.

 

 -----

 

Sunlight streamed through the window above Naomi’s head. She was looking at a speckled white ceiling, and she sighed with relief when, to her right, she saw her sister Abby, still sleeping in her bed, blonde hair unkempt from sleep. Getting out of bed, Naomi left the bedroom to verify she was really in the cabin her family was staying in while vacationing. Her brothers were sleeping on the hide-away couch, and she could hear her parents moving around in their bedroom behind her. Naomi sighed with relief.

_It was just a dream._

The morning passed with no incidents, James and her mom didn’t even fight. After finishing breakfast and packing for a day of hiking, her and her family piled in their van and took to the road. Naomi sat in the back seat, leaning her head against the window and watching the mountains pass slowly by. She often found herself daydreaming, but today she was content to enjoy the scenery and her family as they joked and talked with each other. Turning away from the window, Naomi passionately explained the benefits of the wildlife bridges that spanned the highway with her family.

Eventually her dad pulled the van into a parking lot at the foot of a large valley and everyone spilled out of the car. Naomi and her brothers excitedly looked up at their destination while their mom fussed about sunscreen. Laughing at a joke James had made, Naomi turned back to the car to pull her backpack together. When she had her things in hand, she turned back, addressing James with a question.

“So, James. Are you going to take it easy today and appreciate the flowers that are everyw-“

Naomi stopped and nearly cried with frustration at what she saw.

Instead of seeing her siblings and parents getting ready for their hike, the bald elf Solas was standing with his hands behind his back, looking at the van intently. His gaze shifted to Naomi and he gave her a small, sad smile.

Everything came crashing into perspective. Seeing Solas shattered the illusion she had been maintaining, and she now felt how empty this dream was compared to reality. The wind that moved her hair couldn’t be felt on her face, and she couldn’t detect the warmth of the sun on her skin. At the same time she remembered the vivid sensations of hunger and pain, the smells and sounds that were present in the place she had first encountered Solas.

“This really is just a dream…”

“I am sorry Naomi. I understand this is not what you were hoping to find here. I know you are likely confused, but I believe I can help you.”

“How can you help me? I’m just dreaming. When I wake up I’ll still be stuck in that place, unable to understand anybody...” Her heart sank.

“I can help because I am more than a mere figment of your imagination. We are in the Fade, sharing a dream. It is as if we are speaking in the physical world.” Solas explained, gesturing to the surrounding mountains as he did. “I can help because I will be able to tell others what I learn here.”

Naomi shook her head. While she understood the words he said, their meaning was lacking context. “What is the ‘Fade’?”

“It is the realm of spirits, separated from the world by the Veil. It reflects the memories of the world, and is where we go while dreaming.”

“Spirits? Are you saying they exist?”

“They are as real as you or I.” He studied her thoughtfully, “I can only conclude you are from another world, also connected to the Fade. I am pleased I was able to find you here. Not everyone dreams, such as dwarves.”

“Wait. Dwarves? There are _dwarves_?”

“Indeed. I take it from your reaction you have never encountered dwarves…or elves for that matter?”

“No. We have stories about dwarves and elves, but they aren’t real, just…well, stories written for entertainment.” Naomi couldn’t believe that creatures from fantasies were suddenly shown to be real, in at least one world. “We are from a place called Earth… from America. How did my brother’s and I end up in … Thedas? We were just hiking with my family… and then there was an explosion...”

“You saw the green light in the sky?” When Naomi nodded, Solas continued, “We call it the Breach, a tear in the Veil. If your world is indeed connected to the Fade, it is possible that when the Breach was created, the Veil against your world was briefly compromised, and you and your brothers were pulled through the Fade, to Thedas, deposited beneath one of the rifts spawned by the Breach. I am curious as to how you, a mortal, survived a physical journey through the Fade, it is not a common feat. But that is a question for another day. As for now, I would like to see more of your world, to learn what I can before we wake.”

Naomi felt overwhelmed. It was clear that she had to rethink everything she thought she knew about the world… and about the universe. Regardless of the how, Naomi was convinced that she was no longer on Earth. But, she was on Earth here, and Solas wanted to see it.

“And how can we do that? It’s just a dream.”

“It is precisely because it is a dream that it is possible, as the Fade reflects your memories. You have already showed a remarkable ability to manipulate your surroundings here. You must simply continue to do so.” The inflections in his normally steady voice betrayed how excited he was to see more.

Concentrating, Naomi attempted to change the dream. _It sounds a little like lucid dreaming…_ she thought as the car, mountains, and pine trees began to fade away, replaced by the wood cabinets and tile floors of the kitchen in her childhood home.

“Fascinating...” Solas said, turning to inspect the different appliances scattered around the room. As he looked he asked questions, and Naomi did the best she could to explain electricity and the running water that came from the tap, glad for the distraction. After the kitchen, they moved to the living room with its computer and TV. They ended up outside, where Naomi showed Solas where she had gone to school, church, and college. They then moved further afield, visiting New York City and Chicago, and some of the countries Naomi had visited. As they walked along the walls of a castle in the United Kingdom, she explained that in her world, most people had not lived as they did in Thedas for hundreds of years.

“Are there mages in your world?” Solas asked as they were walking along a cornfield in her home state of Nebraska.

“Mages? Like, as in magic?” Naomi asked, disbelieving. “There are mages in Thedas? Gosh, we don’t have anything like that here. We’re all normal humans, no elves or dwarves or anything. There used to be other species of humans, thousands of years go, but they’re gone now. All we have are fossils and some of the tools they used.”

“Interesting that you appear to be connected to the Fade in your world, yet no one can access it, unless in a dream. Mages, such as myself, are able to manipulate the Fade to cast ice or fire, and even heal. It was magic that created the Breach, and it is magic that will allow us to close it. There is a woman, an elf, who by some circumstance we do not yet understand, has gained the ability to close the rifts that allow spirits to cross the Veil, and she has already stabilized the Breach. I believe, with enough power, she will be able to close it.”

Naomi tried to process everything she had been told. But the only thing she could know for sure was that suddenly, she knew very little.

“Solas, how will we survive in your world?” she asked, starting to cry. “We don’t have any skills that can be used, we haven’t exactly had to do many things for ourselves. We can’t even speak the language! And what if you’re not really here? No one will even know the truth anyway when I wake up!” She sniffed, trying to slow the tears, with little success.

Solas approached her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Naomi wiped the tears from her eyes and looked into his own, seeing that sadness again. “Don’t worry, I will help you. I believe I can convince the others of your situation. The people you saw in the tent want to restore order and protect the innocent, and you and your brothers are no exception. I must go now, but all will be well.”

With that, Solas let go of Naomi’s arms and walked past her. By the time she turned around he was gone. With a sigh, she changed the dream, converting the corn fields to a large lake. She was standing on the edge of a sandstone cliff, the sun setting over the water. A long bridge spanned the lake toward its end, and a bald eagle wheeled across the sky. Taking a seat on the edge of the cliff, Naomi took in the oranges and yellows of the setting sun playing off the clouds. Silently, tears continued to drop down her cheeks, and she wept for the things that she would never experience again, and for the _people_ she would never see again. As the sun dropped below the horizon, Naomi said a prayer, begging to wake up with her family. When the sun was gone, the dream faded with it.

When she opened her eyes, Naomi was staring at a canvas ceiling.


	5. The Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed, but if not, I have been using Welsh as a substitute for the language everyone in Thedas is speaking, and what Naomi hears before she can understand, which is basically gibberish. I have actually been writing lines and putting them in Google translate, so they are probably not very accurate, but it's what I've got ;)
> 
> In the same vein, I've decided to use Dutch as the substitute for Naomi and James' language when someone from Thedas hears them speaking. However, to be clear, they are actually speaking English, not Dutch. I just needed something to portray that people from Thedas can't understand, and I chose Dutch because it is linguistically related to English, plus Naomi and James have a Dutch last name. Again, I don't know Dutch and Google translate has been my friend, so no promises on accuracy.

Cullen strode through Haven, the elf Solas matching his pace beside him. He had woken that morning with a headache, and the meeting he had just left had done nothing to relieve the pain.

_“Are you sure we can trust what you saw in the Fade?” Cassandra had asked Solas, clearly skeptical._

_“I am certain. The Fade reflects memories, and the memories of James and Naomi were like nothing I have ever seen in all of my travels.” Compared to his normally stoic demeanor, the elf had been almost giddy describing the foreigner’s home._

_The Seeker had frowned. “Still, carriages moving without horses, and some that can fly! Buildings that touch the clouds and moving paintings? It is so far-fetched. Could it be a ruse?”_

_“Come on Seeker, even I couldn’t write a story like that,” Varric had said._

_“And I have heard of no such place existing in this world,” Josephine had added._

_“Then where are these people from?” Cassandra had asked, clearly frustrated._

_“I believe they are from another world. I believe they traveled here through the Fade, when the Breach was created.” Solas had responded matter-of-factly._

_“But what evidence do we have, other than your word?” Leliana had asked skeptically._

_Cullen had finally chosen to speak up. “Their clothing was strange, and their belongings are made of materials I have never seen,” he had said, gesturing to the brightly colored bag in the corner of the room. “And they seem genuinely terrified and confused.”_

_“And I trust Solas. He is here by choice and gains nothing by lying about these people,” the Herald had defended._

_Cassandra had sighed, finally conceding. “This is certainly troubling. Let us meet these people then…”_

Cullen found the discovery of a new world to be unsettling, but he was more disturbed that magic could _reach_ persons in this new world, and bring them here. At least he now understood why this woman, Naomi, had seemed so confused and frightened, and why James had tried to break free from his tent and needed to be restrained.

And that was all in addition to Cassandra and Leliana declaring the Inquisition officially reborn.

Now they were going to fetch these foreigners, and determine what was to be done with them. Before approaching Naomi’s tent, Cullen and Solas found the healer Lasia. She gathered a bundle of clothing and a number of healing potions and salves before accompanying them across the camp.

“I take it these people are not a threat, Commander?” she asked.

“Ah, no. They are foreigners and were simply confused,” he evaded.

The woman nodded knowingly. “As I suspected. I apologize for Eugenia’s overreaction, she was quite shook up by the destruction of the Conclave, and sees demons everywhere now.”

“There is no need to apologize. Everyone has been on edge,” he replied.

They had reached the tent, and Cullen ducked through the entrance, followed by the healer and the elf. His eyes adjusted to the dimmer light in the tent, and he noted that Naomi was awake, sitting up slightly in the cot, studying him and his companions. Cullen turned to the guard left in the tent, “Ser Alec, you may return to your regular duties, everything is under control.”

The guard nodded, throwing a look back at Naomi, and as he left Cullen heard her gasp. Eyes wide, she said, “Ik… begreep wat je zei ... soort van…” Solas’ own eyes briefly flashed with surprise.

Solas addressed the woman. “When I visited your dream, I had hoped to learn some of your language, but I never considered I would learn this much, or that you might pick up my own. Fascinating.” He turned to Cullen, “Commander, it appears that we have learned some of each other’s languages. I will be able to translate much more effectively than I initially hoped.”

Cullen shook his head. _Magic_ , the thought, slightly disturbed. Lasia approached the cot, setting down her burdens, and reached for the blanket covering Naomi’s body. But the woman held the piece of cloth firmly, giving Cullen and Solas an apprehensive glance. Feeling a flush at the base of his neck, Cullen remembered she had _only_ the blanket covering her body. Clearing his throat, Cullen caught Solas’ eye and pointedly exited the tent, allowing Lasia and Naomi some privacy.

Several moments later, Lasia emerged. “I’ve done everything I can for her for now. She has several broken ribs, in addition to her broken arm, and the gash on her leg is deep. However, the healing potions have accelerated the healing process. She can walk, but I will want to see her again.”

“Thank you. Solas, accompany Lasia to see James. I will bring Naomi to her other brother’s tent,” Cullen delegated before reentering the tent. Naomi was sitting on the cot, now dressed in a blue wool dress, a wide leather belt wrapped around her waist. She was bent down, hair obscuring her face, struggling to lace up a pair of short boots with her one good hand, her right arm tied up in a sling. She gave a frustrated sigh, pulling her hair behind an ear, and undid her work to start over.

Cullen crossed the tent. “Let me,” he said, kneeling down at her feet. She quickly straightened, and he deftly tied the laces on her shoes. He looked up when he was done, finding her staring at her hands, face flushing red. He stood, stepping back to the entrance. Naomi cleared her throat, whispered, “Dankjewel,” and stood herself, wincing slightly as she tested placing weight on her leg. Now that she stood to her full height, Cullen realized she was taller than he had initially thought, likely at a height with Cassandra. She crossed her arms across her stomach, but after taking a deep breath, she dropped the left to her side, straightened her shoulders, and looked him in the eyes.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi stared into the amber eyes of the blonde man, trying to suppress her nerves, and her embarrassment. She felt foolish for needing help to tie her shoes, and the fact that a man had been the one to tie them wasn’t helping.

And the fact that he was an _attractive_ man, muscular, with short blond hair, a day’s worth of scruff covering his strong jaw, and a scar cutting through his upper lip, made it even worse. He was looking at her with unique amber-brown eyes, and Naomi blushed anew. She tried to adjust her dress, tugging on the warm, wool fabric. The clothes were a little small, and the bottom hem ragged and short. _God, I probably look terrible right now_ , she thought, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

_Focus!_

“I am Cyffredinol Cullen Rutherford. I can cymryd you to see your eich brawd,” he said, moving to leave the tent. Naomi nodded, gingerly taking a step forward. The healer had replaced the dressing on her wound, and she could feel the effects of the medicine she had been given reducing her pain. Still, she limped as she followed Cullen across the camp.

Things outside were just as chaotic as they had been the day before. People and animals in constant motion, soldiers were sparring at the edges of the camp, and above it all hung the green light in the sky. _The Breach_ , Naomi reminded herself, _the thing that brought us here._

As they approached a tent, Cullen said, “Your brawd ieuengaf is in here. He hasn’t ddeffro yet and… well, you should see him.” He looked worried, and Naomi felt a jolt of panic, rushing into the tent. Her stomach dropped at what she saw.

“No,” she whispered, hurrying to David’s side. She couldn’t understand how she hadn’t realized the day before how sick he was, that his eyes were sunken in his skull, that, while breathing, his breaths were shallow and uneven. Panicked, she looked over his body to see what his injuries were, to see what could be fixed. But aside from a few bruises he seemed fine. _Except his head. He must have hit his head!_ She looked back to Cullen. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, “He needs to be healed!” Cullen just shook his head. Naomi realized with frustration that he couldn’t understand her, and she turned back to David, taking one of his hands in her own.

She sat for a few minutes, watching David, wracking her brain for what could be wrong. At a loss, she just sat there, praying _please God, please._

Solas and the healer finally entered the tent, followed by James, dressed in cloth pants and a gray tunic. Relieved, Naomi stood to give him a weak one-handed hug, wincing at the ache from her ribs. “James, David’s sick and he won’t wake up…” A few tears escaped her eyes.

Solas knelt over David, examining his body. Small pulses of blue light shone from his fingers, and Naomi gaped as he worked. _Magic…_

“He is worse than last nos,” the elf said, brow furrowed. “His body ymddengys sain, but his presenoldeb is weak. And I have no talent mawr for healing…” He sounded frustrated with himself.

The gray-haired healer took her turn examining David, removing the bandages from his head. Naomi winced at the large cut that marred the left side of her brother’s forehead. The healer cleaned the wound, replacing the dressing and bandages. When she was finished she stood and talked to Solas quietly, then quickly exited the tent.

“Lasia has wedi mynd to talk with one of the other iachäwr. She is not penodol why he will not wake, but she gobeithion to find answers yn fuan.” She looked back at David, at how vulnerable he was, and willed him to wake. But he went unchanged, and Naomi sighed, turning back to Solas and Cullen.

“So… what do we do now?”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James was silent as he followed the elf Solas and the blonde man through the camp, and then through the gates of the town on the hill. He was tense, and ground his teeth as he walked, frowning at the Breach. He had dreamed of Solas the night before, the elf telling him about the swirling green hole in the sky, that it had brought him to this place. And then the elf had appeared in person.

But even as the cold air slapped his face, and the smell of animal dung assaulted his nose, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it was real. _How can it be? There aren’t other worlds, elves, or magic… this is just a dream…or I’m dead…_

He was pulled from his thoughts by his sister. “James? You alright?” she asked, “What’re you thinking?”

He inspected the thatched roofs on the buildings they were passing. “I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.”

Naomi sighed, “I wish. But… we’re not,” she said, clearly disappointed.

James wasn’t so sure. He watched a group of dirty, laughing children run past. “Yeah…”

They approached a large stone building at the highest point of the town. When they walked through the large open doors he was immediately glad for the slight rise in temperature that came with the darkened interior, the way down the central corridor weakly lit by torches. At the far end of the hall they entered a room dominated by a large table covered in a map of land masses James didn’t recognize, metal figures scattered across the surface. And surrounding the table was the most visually interesting group of people he had ever seen.

A tall, dark-haired woman and a somewhat shorter woman with chain-male and hood talked to each other at one end of the table. A darker-skinned woman with dark hair and gaudy gold clothing was writing on a tablet, a candle attached to the top. A short man with red hair pulled into a ponytail, shirt open wide down the front to reveal a chest covered in hair talked to a taller, by comparison, slender woman whose pointed ears marked her as an elf. She turned when they entered, and when James saw her face, he stopped and caught his breath.

 _She looks like Makenzie,_ he thought, a lump forming in his throat. His hope that his was a dream intensified, reminded now more fully of what he would leave behind if it was not.

It was strange to see a face so much like his girlfriend’s on this elf. Her chin had a slight cleft and her skin was warm and lightly tanned, her hair the same straight dark brown, her eyes dark.

But her face was set apart by the series of tattoos that spread across her features. Dark purple branches stretched up the bridge of her nose and sprawled across her forehead. Branches also extended below her eyes, over her temples, and down her chin.

“Good, you are here. Solas, was your ymgais to learn some of their language llwyddiannus?” The dark-haired woman had spoken, her voice commanding.

“Yes Ceisiwr. In fact, my work last nos was even more ffrwythlon than I rhagwelir. I was able to learn much of James and Naomi’s language with rhwyddineb, and they have both learned much of ours yn ei dro.”

“That ymddengys convenient,” the woman said, looking at Solas with suspicion. James resisted the urge to laugh. He also found it convenient, and it reinforced his belief that everything was actually a dream. People didn’t just learn a language overnight. Although, he did find it strange that he couldn’t understand everything.

The brown-haired elf with the tattoos interjected. “We already sefydlu Solas has no reason to lie.” James was taken aback by the elf’s voice. He had expected her to sound like his girlfriend but instead her voice was lighter, more melodic in a way. He shook his head, trying not to stare at the woman.

The dark-haired woman sighed, “You are right Negesydd. It is just troubling to think o'r hyn y mae hyn means.”

“I think we are all diddordeb in learning where y bobl hyn came from, and how they cyrhaeddodd here,” the blonde man contributed, looking between James and his sister, hands placed on the pommel of his sword.

Everyone was looking between James and his sister, but Naomi stumbled into an explanation. “Well, um, we live in a country called the United States of America…”

“I meddwl eich said she knew our language?” the tall woman interrupted.

“When spoken, yes. But I yn credu learning to speak will be a slower process,” Solas explained, followed by a translation of what Naomi had already said. “blesio continue,” he nodded to his sister.

“Um, right. Well, we’re from a state called Nebraska. It’s a pretty flat place, and people grow corn…” James tuned her out, eyes wandering back to the elf. She was frowning slightly as she listened to the translation of what Naomi said, brows pulled together, small creases between her eyes. He followed her nose down to her lips, watching as they pursed slightly at something his sister said. She brought a hand up, rubbing an earlobe, and he noticed her left palm glowed with the same green light as the Breach.

“James? Do you have something to add?”

He shook his head, brought back to the conversation, and looked at his sister. “No, that’s all.”

Solas spoke up, “I believe it would be doeth to cadw eu origin a secret. The knowledge of another world y tu hwnt i'n hunain, and that it can be mynediad by the Fade, could be dangerous if it fell i mewn i'r wrong hands.”

“I agree, this knowledge cannot yn dod yn common,” the tall woman echoed.

“What shall they tell pobl?” the blonde man asked. “They didn’t make a quiet mynediad. Many people yn dyst them speaking a strange language.”

“There are many aneglur languages in the world. I sydd dan amheuaeth those who heard them speak will think they are from one such place,” golden-sleeves said.

“Yes, but to be sure, I will spread gwybodaeth that they are from the Anderfels,” the hooded woman added.

James laughed under his breath. _As if I need a backstory to explain anything in a dream… though I won’t remember that stuff anyway._

“I believe cyflwyniadau should be made,” the brunette elf suggested.

“Of course,” Solas said, beginning to list the names of those around the table. The hooded woman was called Leliana, the tall woman Cassandra Pentaghast. Golden sleeves was Josephine Montilyet, the blonde man Commander Cullen Rutherford, and the short man Varric Tethras.

“And this is Nassella of glaniau Lavellan of the Dalish gorachod. She is the only one in our world who goroesi the explosion that brought you here. She eirth a mark that sefydlogi the Breach and has profi able to close the bach rifts the Breach has silio.” Solas finished, and the brunette elf, Nassella, nodded to James and Naomi in turn with a smile.

Then everyone was looking at Naomi, who stumbled through an introduction. When it was his turn, he tried not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I’m James Westerkamp.”

“And our brother David is still unconscious, down in one of the tents,” Naomi added. James had forgotten about their brother, and a pang of worry passed through him. But he pushed it away. It was a dream, after all.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Naomi asked shakily, “where exactly are we now? It seems like there is some sort of conflict going on here…”

It was Josephine who answered, after Solas translated. “We are in Haven, in the gwlad of Ferelden, in Thedas. Here.” She pointed to a spot on the map. Cassandra picked up from there.

“We are the ‘Inquisition’, dasg with adfer peace. The mages and Deml are at war, and a chance for a peaceful penderfyniad was destroyed when the Conclafau exploded and the Breach was creu. Now demons are torri from the Fade, threatening lives ar draws Thedas. The Negesydd alone can close the rifts that grifft the demons, and we are gweithio to close the Breach ei hun.”

James almost laughed out loud again. _Demons? Wars? This dream just gets more and more ridiculous…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As James and Naomi learn the language, I've been replacing some words in sentences with Welsh (and again, from Google translate so it probably isn't accurate). I tried to leave important words and context clues, so the meaning is clear. However, I may have failed miserably on that...


	6. The Herald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the previous chapter...

_We’re in the middle of a war… shit._

Naomi was frightened, her heart racing and breaths coming short and quick. She was from the United States. There were wars in her world, but they were decades in the past or oceans away. She thought of the soldiers training just outside the walls of Haven.

“What-,” she took a deep breath, steadying her voice, “what are we going to do? We don’t know how to live in a place like this… we have no skills. We have no money… nothing.” She tried to keep from crying, mostly successfully.

“We’ll be fine Naomi,” James muttered under his breath while Solas translated. She frowned at her brother.

“What was your fasnach, in your cartref?” Leliana asked.

“Fasnach…?” Naomi asked, giving Solas a quizzical look.

“Your galwedigaeth, swydd… what you did… to live,” Solas said, struggling to describe. Naomi nodded, understanding his meaning.

Naomi wracked her mind. _How to describe our jobs?_ They were all students or recently graduated, they didn’t build things or work with their hands. “Well… we don’t really have any. We were students, just… learning. I studied biology… plants and animals. James studied religion.”

“You had no hyfforddiant in any sort of trade? Were you fonheddig?” Josephine asked.

Again, Naomi shook her head. “Fonheddig…?”

“Part of the upper dosbarth?” Josephine rephrased. _Dosbarth?_ Naomi thought. _What is that… she said ‘upper’ and wondering why I don’t have a job…oh! Upper class…maybe. So ‘fonheddig’ is royal or noble?_

She gave a short laugh, “’Noble’? No… no. It’s just… the way we live is different. Most people don’t have to work with their hands. People use… information, not physical things. I mean, if you needed plants and animals identified, I could do that…” _Not that I could identify anything here. Everything I’ve worked to learn… absolutely useless now…_

“Well, the Inquisition has been protecting the ffoaduriaid diwreiddio by the mage-Deml fighting, and you would yn sicr yn gymwys for that protection,” Josephine said, glancing around the table.

 “Yes, but most ffoaduriaid have been working in un ffordd neu'r llall.” Cassandra spoke up.

“I yn credu this family can be an exception, considering the amgylchiadau.” Nassella said softly.

“Of course, I did not mean to swnio'n llym,” Cassandra said.

“You do bring up a good point. It ymddengys as if Naomi, James, and David will likely byth yn dychwelyd to their world, and it is bwysig they learn to live here.” Nassella looked over Naomi and James thoughtfully.

“Well, while you all chyfrif i maes what our other-worlders are going to do, I have some llythyrau to ysgrifennu,” Varric said as he walked out of the room. He barely reached Naomi’s armpits when he walked past, and she considered he might be a dwarf.

Josephine studied her ledger. “Naomi, you will need amser to recover from your anafiadau. Come to me when the iachäwr say you are sy'n roof work, for a placement. James, you can help in the stablau. Report to Ira there in two diwrnod. We don’t have many horses now, but we hope to change bod yn fuan,” she delegated, making notes as she did.

“Thank you. I- just, thank you,” Naomi said, feeling a few tears leave her eyes.

“Of course. You can’t be y bai for what happened. We are working to find the rhywun who destroyed the Conclafau and brought you here. We will find this rhywun, but we must also protect the diniwed who are caught yn y canol,” Cassandra said.

“I believe everything is in order. Solas has agreed to gyd-fynd you back to your tent. You should have dim byd to fear in Haven. I would keep your things cudd,” Leliana said before walking from the room, followed by Cassandra and Cullen.

“Negesydd, remember Mother Giselle. She is hanfodol if we want to improve our cysylltiadau with the Siantri.” Josephine looked at Nassella, waiting to write with her pen.

Nassella sighed, “Yes Josephine, I have not anghofio. I cynllun to leave yfory for the Cefnwledydd.” Josephine smiled and wrote on her pad, walking from the room as she did.

When the siblings were alone with the two elves, Nassella sighed again. “Mae'n ymddangos we are all a little out of our dafod here,” she said, glancing between those left in the room. “Thank you Solas, for all of your help. I would like to gyd-fynd you and our new aelodau, if you don’t meddwl.”

“Of course not, Negesydd. It will be good for the rest to see you with them. There is likely still some gweddilliol mistrust from ddoe.”

“Did you convince everyone where we were from?” Naomi asked Solas, “Yesterday everyone was acting like we were criminals.”

“Yes, I spoke with everyone y bore yma about your dreams and your world. With the Nefesydd fynnu I could be trusted, I was able to argyhoeddi them.”

“Thank you,” was all Naomi could say. Solas just nodded.

“Could we find something to eat?” James asked. Naomi suddenly became aware of her own intense hunger. The last she had eaten was the bowl of broth from the day before, and she suspected James hadn’t eaten at all.

“Yes, I’m starving too,” Naomi said, going to pick up James’ bag she had noticed in the corner of the room. She briefly wondered where her things were, but quickly concluded they must be lost, and felt a stab of sadness. She looked back at Solas.

He turned to leave. “Follow me.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

As they walked across Haven to the Singing Maiden, Nassella Lavellan studied the faces of the new-comers out of the corner of her eye, watching their expressions. The woman, Naomi, was staring at everything with wide eyes, shaking her head periodically, always returning her gaze to the Breach. The other, James, walked more confidently, also studying the people and buildings they passed, but with a critical eye. Every now and then he would smirk, and even chuckled softly a couple of times. Naomi seemed cautious, and even a little fearful, but James was almost amused. Nassella could understand Naomi’s reaction to their situation, but James confused her.

Nassella could see the resemblance between the two. The man’s hair was much darker than the woman’s, but their features were similar, with oval faces with large eyes rimmed in dark lashes, full lips, and fine, straight noses. They were both tan, but the woman’s face was covered in freckles. They also had incredibly straight, and white, teeth.

And they were tall.

And they both had unusual, two-colored eyes, bright green encircled by blue. Nassella had never seen anything like it.

As they walked, people would bow slightly to Nassella, saying “Herald” or “Herald of Andraste”. She nodded back, but found herself frowning once they were past. The new title was disconcerting, as she did not believe in the Maker, or Andraste. But more troubling to her was the sudden influx of attention. She could no longer fade into the background, or walk unnoticed through the streets. As a hunter, she had spent her life learning how to stalk animals, moving silently through the forest. But now she found herself in the position of prey, with eyes on her at all times.

And everyone believed she could save them. But, she didn’t know how she could. She had not come unscathed from the Conclave, physically or emotionally. She was homesick, and wanted the support of her clan, but found herself unable to leave.

She was pulled from her reverie when Naomi asked “Nassella, wat zijn ze u belt?”

Solas translated, “She wants to know what the people are calling you.” Then he turned to Naomi, “You should try speaking our language, so you can begin to learn. I won’t always be there to help you translate.” She nodded, reddening a little, but looked to Nassella expectantly.

Nassella sighed, “They believe I was sent by Andraste, the savior of their religion. When I emerged from the Fade, the Anchor on my hand, there was a woman, seen by multiple people, behind me. They believe Andraste chose me to save them. So they are calling me her Herald.” Nassella knew she sounded bitter, but she was overwhelmed with their expectations. But when she looked at Naomi she smiled, “It’s rather nice to meet someone who doesn’t feel compelled to recite the Chant of Light every time they see me, and call me ‘Herald’ at least once a minute. You actually use my name!” she finished with a laugh.

Naomi frowned slightly, slowly pulling together a reply in the common tongue. “I… no… c-…call… by…your…um… name?”

Nassella quickly replied, “Oh no, please do!”

They had arrived at the tavern, and after they entered Nassella walked up to the woman behind the bar.

“Herald,” she said, “How can I help you?”

“It’s Flissa, right? I just need some food for me and my companions,” she pointed to the people sitting at the table. The woman nodded and started serving up stew into bowls, placing them on a tray with a plate of bread and cheese stuffed pastries. Thanking her, Nassella carried the savory spread to the table. Both James and Naomi poked around their bowls, examining the vegetables and meat in the soup. But they eventually dug in, clearly hungry.

Nassella turned to the other elf at the table. He intrigued her. He was clearly not Dalish, as no vallaslin marked his features, but neither was he a city elf. Cassandra had called him an apostate, but he risked his freedom to help the Inquisition. He also seemed to possess a unique knowledge of the Fade, having kept the Anchor from killing her, and knowing to use it to close the rifts. But he also used the Fade to travel to other’s dreams, an ability she had only heard of, and thought was simply a legend.

“You certainly know a lot about the Fade, Solas. I’ve never met a mage with your particular type of knowledge.”

“It is not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. But I would not trade the thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream for anything. And travelling deep into the Fade has allowed me to discover memories no other living being has ever seen.”

“That does sound fascinating… and extraordinary,” she said.

“Indeed. I have travelled far, dreaming in ruins and ancient battlefields to find new areas in the Fade. Although I’ll admit I never expected to find anything like the dreams of Naomi and James in my travels.”

Nassella took a bite of stew, glancing at the humans. “Is it your knowledge that allowed you to find Naomi and James in their dreams?”

He nodded. “Yes. I have become quite adept at navigating the Fade. Although, I usually avoid intruding on the dreams of the living.”

Nassella noticed that Naomi had finished eating, and was frowning into her bowl, glancing every few seconds toward the door. She was clearly agitated, and Nassella remembered her youngest brother was still sick.

“Are you finished eating? Why don’t we bring you back to your tent?” Nassella suggested, noting the quick smile that flashed across Naomi’s face.

“Of course,” Solas said, “their brother may be awake.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

David was no better when they returned. Naomi crossed the tent to feel his forehead, but his temperature wasn’t elevated. She couldn’t see what was wrong with him, he simply wasn’t waking. But he was thin and pale, and his breathing was shallow. She turned to Solas for help.

“Solas, please, what’s wrong?” she pleaded in English.

Solas examined David again, using magic as he looked at his head. With a sigh he stood back up, looking between Naomi and James. “I’ve grybwyllwyd the dangers of mynd i mewn the Fade. It is anhygoel that you both succeeded in doing just that, but I believe David was not so ffodus. While his body is here, his mind ymddangos i fod… absent.”

“What! You’re saying he won’t wake up?” Naomi asked, panicking.

“Nothing is certain. I will think on this,” Solas said. He looked at James and Naomi carefully in the eye. “Remember, you must say, if asked, that you are from the Anderfels and speak Ander. Do you understand?” Naomi nodded, glancing at James, who shrugged. “Good. And do not show unrhyw un your things.” Naomi nodded again and he exited the tent, leaving her with James and Nassella, taken aback by his abrupt exit.

Nassella shook her head, “If unrhyw un can help when it comes to the Fade, it is Solas. Would you like some cotiau a anfonwyd mewn?”

Naomi didn’t know what she was talking about, so she simply nodded.

“Alright... I will leave you then,” she said with a small smile, and she too left the tent.

Naomi turned back to David, taking his hand in hers. _When did he get so cold? And he really is pale… and so thin. He hasn’t eaten in days._ Two cots were brought in, _that must be what she said,_ and James sat on one of them.

“James, what are we going to do? What if he doesn’t get better, what if…” Naomi felt tears starting to fall.

“Naomi, calm down, you worry too much” he said, then laughed. “What am I saying? This is just a dream, it doesn’t really matter.”

Naomi gaped at him. _He thinks…this is a dream?_ She was stunned. “James,” she started slowly, “you can’t honestly think you’re dreaming?”

He laughed again, “Oh yes I can, and I do.” He placed his hands behind his head and laid back on the cot. “How can it be anything other than a dream?”

Naomi’s mind reeled. How could he not realize this was real? Everything was too vivid, the pains and hunger too sharp. There was no way this was a dream. But how could she make him see that?

“Because… well, because there’s no way it could be! Just, realize you can feel everything! Pain, hunger, the wind, the cold. Focus! James,” she said, exasperated, “you know this is real!” He just shook his head.

Naomi sat down on her cot, unsure of what else to do. She supposed James would come around eventually, he couldn’t deceive himself forever. _But he’ll be no help until he does,_ she thought, annoyed at his stubbornness.

To distract herself, she started going through the contents of James’ bag. He had a sweatshirt, water bottle, and a Bible.

“Why were you bringing a Bible on a hike?” Naomi asked.

James shrugged. “I put it in and just never took it out.” Naomi sighed. It was just like him to lug around an unneeded thing like a Bible on a hike, but forget to bring something like a raincoat.

Suddenly she was hit with the urge to relieve herself. Leaving the tent, Naomi could see the sun was setting and people were beginning to settle down for the night. She searched for anything that could possibly be a bathroom, but finding nothing she headed for the cover of a stand of trees past the edge of the tents. Crouching was difficult with her injuries, so she leaned against a tree to relieve herself, realizing she would have to find a better alternative eventually.

Back in the tent she found James already under the blanket on his cot, fast asleep. Unable to easily remove her blue dress, she removed her shoes and eased herself down on her own cot fully clothed. She shivered and tried to curl into a ball, but winced when her ribs protested. Stretching out, she listened to the sounds of the camp; boots crunching through the snow, horses snorting, and the murmurs of conversation around campfires. She tried to calm her racing mind. _This is crazy. I don’t know what to do. What if David doesn’t wake up? What if we are attacked? How will we support ourselves? What are our parents thinking? I need to take a shower. Will we really be safe here? What if someone comes into the tent? Who will I call for help? How can James think this is a dream? I’m so cold. How, why, what…_

She took a deep breath and turned in the cot carefully. To distract herself, she sang a lullaby softly, eventually drifting to sleep.

_Lullaby, sing lullaby_  
_The day is far behind you_  
_The moon sits high, atop the sky  
_ _Now let sweet slumber find you, away._

_The day is done, and gone the sun_  
_That lit the world so brightly_  
_The Earth’s aglow with speckled show  
_ _Of twinkling stars so sprightly, away._

_Close your eyes, breathe in the night_  
_A softer bed I’ll make you_  
_The trial is done, all danger gone,  
_ _Now let far dreaming take you, away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lullaby" by Daniel Elder. Sang it in choir and you should check it out!
> 
> Any dialogue from the game is Bioware's property.


	7. Lost in the Fade

Naomi curled around her knees, watching the sun painting oranges, pinks, and yellows on the clouds above the lake. The wind played through her hair and waves lapped against the sandstone cliffs below her. She smiled at the view. It was the most beautiful sunset she had ever seen.

Someone sat down next to her, and when she turned to find Solas, small smile on his face, gazing across the lake, she wasn’t surprised.

“Solas,” she greeted, turning back to the view, smiling again when she heard a barred owl call _who cooks for you, who cooks for you aaaaall?_ , behind her.

“This is beautiful,” he said simply.

Naomi smiled. “It’s one of my favorite places. It’s near where I grew up, and I would always come here when I was upset with my parents, friends, school…or life in general.” They sat in silence, listening to the waves and the wind.

_Who cooks for you, who cooks for you aaaaall?_

It was Solas who finally spoke. “I generally avoid visiting people in their dreams, yesterday was an exception, but I need your assistance.”

Naomi looked at Solas, into his blue-gray eyes glinting in the golden light. “Of course, anything. You’ve already helped me more than I can repay you for.”

“I have been searching for your brother. I hoped if I found him here, in the Fade, I could encourage him to return to his body. Unfortunately, I have had no success. I believe, however, that you could find him, as he is familiar to you.”

Naomi raised her eyebrows, standing quickly. “Of course! Let’s go now!”

Solas stood, turning toward the woods behind them. “The simplest way to find someone in the Fade is to simply walk, focusing on what you want to find. They will show themselves eventually.”

Naomi nodded and started into the woods, thinking about her brother. He was young, only thirteen, and she admitted that she hadn’t been around much for the last several years of his life, since going to college. After a few minutes of weaving through trees, she started to talk. “I used to have great conversations with him,” she said as she stepped over a log. “I loved science, and he would ask great questions about things like evolution and the plants and animals we found on hikes. It was so much fun to talk to him, to teach him.” They reached the edge of the trees, a wide open grassland before them.

“He also loves to play sports,” she continued as she waded through the knee-high grasses, Solas following behind, “but he isn’t very good because he’s not aggressive enough. He’s like me that way. I was always on the JV teams, but it was fun.” She noticed a sound coming from her left, and altered her course to walk toward it.

“And he wouldn’t admit it, but I know he liked being in show choir,” she laughed. The sound became more distinct, a _bounce bounce bounce_ echoing through the grasses, which were now up to her shoulders.

The grasses got higher and higher, until they were over her head, and the only thing directing her through the dense foliage was the _bounce Bounce BOUNCE_ of the ball, growing louder and louder, until it was deafening, ringing through her ears. The grasses were so thick that she had to turn her head down, staring at the ground to push through. So thick, that when it ended, she nearly fell through the open air.

There was suddenly silence, and she found herself standing on a basketball court. The sun was blinding, shining high in a blue sky, white cumulous clouds drifting lazily from horizon to horizon. The grasses circled the court, standing nearly as high as the hoops.

And under one of the baskets, doing lay-up after lay-up, was David.

A smile split Naomi’s face. “David! Oh my God! It’s you!”

The boy stumbled, losing his ball into the grass. He turned, a smile lighting up his own face.

“Naomi? What are you doing here?”

She crossed the court, pulling him into a hug. “Looking for you! This is Solas, he helped me find you.”

The elf chuckled, “I can take no credit here. This was you, Naomi.”

Naomi turned to the elf, “So what do we do now? Will he come back with us… or what?”

Solas studied her brother. “David, do you know where you are?”

Her brother frowned, looking around. “No… but I like it here. All I do is play basketball.”

Naomi frowned, “But you know it’s not real… right?” Her brother shrugged.

“So? I like it here. It’s not scary.” Naomi almost cried, giving him another hug. _No, it’s not. But it’s also not real._

“David, it may not be scary, but you cannot stay here. Do you understand? If you stay here, you will die,” Solas said. Naomi frowned, hoping her brother wouldn’t be frightened. _But maybe that’s what he needs…_

But he simply shrugged again. “But if I get to stay here, that would be fine.”

Naomi took him by the shoulders, looking into his gray eyes, gold ringing the pupils. “No David, don’t say that. You need to come back. _I_ need you to come back, and _James_ needs you to come back. You can’t stay here, this isn’t living. Please, you need to promise me.”

David glanced toward the grasses, “But what about my friends?” Naomi’s heart jumped. _Friends…what does he mean?_

She followed his gaze and saw two children, a boy and a girl, had emerged from the grass, the boy holding the orange basketball in his hands. They were both short, with jet black hair and bright purple eyes. She glanced at Solas, slightly panicked.

Solas approached the two. “What purpose do you have here?”

The girl spoke, voice light and youthful, “Alone, frightened, confused. He was lost and I found him, to ease his fear.”

“He was sad, darkness clouding all joy from his mind. I wanted to help,” the boy said cheerfully.

“How did you help?” the elf asked.

The boy gestured to the court. “We brought him here, where he could play.”

Solas turned to Naomi. “Do not fear. Your brother appears to have been found by spirits, likely of Joy and Comfort.” He turned back to the spirits. “We thank you for watching him. This woman is his sister. She wants him to come with us. She can keep him safe, and comfort him.”

The girl frowned, “There will be little comfort for him, where you want him to go. Only pain.”

Naomi was frightened. “What does she mean Solas?”

He addressed the spirit, “Yes, there is pain, but also happiness. He should not be kept from his family. He will not be alone, and I can help protect him.”

The boy smiled, “Family can bring joy, if there is love.”

“I love him very much, and I would do anything to keep him safe,” Naomi said earnestly. “David, please, you know James and I love you, right?” She felt a few tears fall across her cheeks.

David smiled, “I know.”

“Then come back, OK?” she smiled. He smiled back, and nodded. She took his hand and started walking toward the grasses, pushing aside the stalks to make an opening for David to walk through. After he was through, Naomi glanced back at the spirits. They were standing side by side, watching them leave. The boy was smiling, but the girl’s face was unnervingly neutral, and Naomi felt a jolt of unease. But when she looked back at David’s blonde head in front of her, she smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.

 

\----- 

 

When Naomi woke the next morning, she eagerly looked to David’s cot, expecting him to be up and alert, likely hungry and confused, but a _wake._ Instead, he was just as comatose as the day before.

She suppressed a frustrated scream, seeing that James was still asleep. Carefully she stood, moving to David’s side to inspect him. He was still thin, but she thought his cheeks had more color, and his breathing was steadier. Taking that as a good sign, she turned to get ready for the day.

She was staring at her shoes, wondering how she was going to tie them alone, not to mention the problem that was her greasy hair, when a voice called from outside. Walking carefully to the entrance, she poked her head outside to find Solas. “Has your brother woken,” he asked.

Naomi sighed, “No.”

Solas gestured to the interior of the tent, “May I?”

She nodded and reentered, followed by the elf, who knelt over David’s body, again using magic to examine him.

“Wha- Naomi?” James asked sleepily, sitting up.

“James, Solas and I found David last night, while dreaming… Solas thought it might make him wake up but… well, he hasn’t yet.”

James sighed, lying back down. “Whatever…”

Naomi shook her head in frustration. _He can be so… so…_

She was pulled back when Solas spoke. “I am yn annog. He seems to have improved, and his mind shows pefrio of activity. We did what we gallai in the Fade. Now, it is up to him.”

Naomi was disappointed that the results weren’t more… immediate. But, she didn’t know how this ‘Fade-stuff’ worked. And Solas didn’t have to help them. “Thank you Solas. For everything,” she said in English, her voice catching in her throat.

He nodded to her. “Of course. I am diddordeb to learn more about you and your world, but I am ofni it will have to wait. I am leaving for the Hinterlands heddiw with the Herald.”

Naomi’s heart sank. _He’s the only person I would feel comfortable talking with… and Nassella too. And they’re leaving?_ She swallowed her fear, blinking back a few tears. “Of… of course.”

He gave a final nod and was gone. Naomi stared at the tent flap, trying to calm the fear and anxiety starting to rise through her body. She was distracted by rustling behind her, and she turned to see James awake.

“I’m starving…” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Naomi noticed her own rumbling stomach, thinking to go find food somewhere. But she didn’t want to leave David alone, in case he woke up.

“I’ll go find something,” she said, “You stay with David.” Her conscious brother nodded, laying back down.

Naomi was almost out the door when she remembered her laces. “Actually, James?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Can you tie my shoes?”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

“You there! There’s a shield in your hand. Block with it. If this man were your enemy, you’d be dead.” Cullen shook his head as he watched the new recruits. Most of them were green, having joined the Inquisition from lives as farmhands, hired laborers, or shopkeepers. He turned to the man at his side, “Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

“Yes Commander,” the man said, turning back to the sparring ring. Cullen began walking back to his tent to tackle the pile of paperwork on his desk, but was instead intercepted by the Herald.

“Good morning Commander,” she said cordially, inclining her head with a smile.

“Good morning Herald,” Cullen responded, then nodded toward the new soldiers. “We’ve received a number of recruits. Locals from Haven and some pilgrims. Though, none made quite the entrance you did.”

The Herald sighed, crossing her arms. “Yes, I certainly got everyone’s attention. I usually prefer to be more… subtle.”

Cullen chuckled. They began walking across the camp, Cullen grabbing a missive from a scout while they moved, initialing the report before handing it back. “I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall myself. I was there during the mage uprising. I saw firsthand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.” They had reached Cullen’s tent, and he stopped outside, turning to face the elf, towering over her.

The Herald glanced at the Breach, wrinkling her nose. “The Conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky. Things aren’t looking good.”

“Which is why we’re needed. The Chantry lost control of both Templars and mages, now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act where the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that, there’s so much we can…” Cullen shook his head, not sure that this Dalish elf wanted to hear his ramblings. “Forgive me, I doubt you came here for a lecture.”

The elf smirked, “No, but I don’t mind hearing one.” She seemed to notice something behind him, then waved her hand for someone to approach.

Cullen chuckled, turning to see who she had addressed, “Another time perhaps. I uh…” he lost his train of thought. Naomi had joined them, fidgeting with her hands, looking hopefully at the Herald. Her hair framed her face in loose waves, and when she glanced at Cullen, her strange eyes caught the sunlight, the green glowing even brighter than he remembered. She looked away, and Cullen picked his thoughts back up. “There’s still a lot of work ahead.”

Nodding, the Herald addressed the taller woman. “Naomi, how are you? I hope you slept well.”

She nodded, then, to Cullen’s surprise, responded in broken Common. “I’m…g- goo… thank you. I was…um… look?... f-food.”

“Of course,” the Herald said, “I’ll show you where you can eat. I’m actually hungry myself, and should get something before I leave. Thank you for speaking with me Commander.”

“Of course Herald,” Cullen said. He turned back to Naomi, who had tucked her hair behind an ear, revealing a number of piercings. “How is your younger brother today, Miss Westerkamp? Has he improved?” he asked, concerned for the boy, suspecting he was past hope.

Naomi sighed and swallowed, looking back toward her tent, “No… Solas and…. I….f- find him… laatste… doe niet zo stom, hij kan niet begrijpen dat…,” she muttered to herself, “night? Night… in the… Fade…and…. he is… little… go- gooder.”

Cullen frowned. _They found him in the Fade? That sounds dangerous… though he is not a mage. There should be no danger of possession. Still… maybe I should post a Templar outside the tent…_

But instead he said, “I am sorry to hear that. We are all hoping he wakes.” Naomi nodded, giving him a quick glance before crossing her arms and staring at the ground. She seemed uncomfortable, and he had the impression that she would much rather be in her tent.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking back, her lips twitching in an attempt at a smile. The expression quickly disappeared.

A scout in a light green hood approached. “Commander, Ser Rylan has a report on our supply lines.”

“As I was saying about here being much work ahead,” Cullen said with a sigh, looking away and taking the report from the scout.

“Well, let’s go get some food!” the Herald said, leaving with Naomi toward Haven. Cullen watched them go, smirking slightly at the large difference in height between the two. _We could have the largest army in Thedas, but our greatest hope lies with that tiny woman…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> afgelopen nacht, doe niet zo strom, hij kan niet begrijpen dat. = last night, don't be stupid, he can't understand that.
> 
> Dialogue from the game is Bioware's.


	8. Awake

Naomi stopped outside of her tent, clutching her bundle of meat filled pastries and cheese for James. She watched as Nassella exited Haven’s gates, followed by Solas, Cassandra, and Varric. They were each carrying packs and armed with weapons and armor. As they turned toward the stable, Naomi tried to quell her unease, realizing that the only people she felt somewhat comfortable approaching or talking to were leaving for possibly weeks. _Thank God James is here too, or I’d be completely alone…_

She found the tent empty, except for David’s unconscious form. Annoyed, she placed the food on James’ cot, easing herself down on her own. _Why did he leave? What if David had woken?_ But looking at David, finding him unchanged from that morning, she sighed. _He probably went to the bathroom or something… Come on David, wake up!_

She started dozing off, her eyes heavy and head nodding, still exhausted from the last few days and not eating for many of them. She considered lying down on her cot when James returned, bringing with him the smell of manure, clothes stained with what she could only assume was the source of the odor. He sat on his cot, resting his head in his hands.

“What happened to you?” Naomi asked.

He sighed, “I had to pee.”

She eyed her brother. “I was referring to the smell you tracked in, actually.”

“Naomi…” he groaned into his hands, “this isn’t a dream, is it?”

Naomi studied her brother. His shoulders were hunched, and she could see he was tense. “No, it’s not,” she said sadly.

James groaned again, looking up at her with the most forlorn expression she had ever seen on his features. He was usually so carefree, seldom serious. “But how can this be real?” he asked. “It just… doesn’t make any sense!”

Naomi had spent much of the time since she woke considering that very question. _How could they be here?_ Everyone else seemed to accept that three people could suddenly show up in their midst from another world, with barely an explanation. But they lived in a place with magic and, apparently, demons and spirits. _For fuck’s sake, there’s a hole in the sky leading to this… ‘Fade’, which is basically another world from what I can understand._ With all of that physical evidence for realms beyond their own, it made sense people from Thedas would accept the existence of another. But her world was different.

“Well,” she said slowly, “a lot of physicists believe there are other planets in the universe that harbor life, and, well, I believe there is too. In fact, in an _infinite_ universe, theoretically anything is possible, and all possibilities of worlds could exist. Not to mention the theories that other _universes_ exist.” She paused. “Although, I don’t really see how I can use an argument from physics with magic floating around here…” she grumbled. “As for how we got here… oh, I don’t know!”

She sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… there were theories back home that other planets would harbor life. So, there’s precedence, I guess, for thinking other worlds existed. But there’s also a lot physicists and scientists _don’t_ know… so, I guess we just stumbled into one of those unknowns?”

James dropped his head again, “Not exactly comforting, but… I guess…” They sat in silence for a moment. “How come we are learning the language so fast?”

“I thought of that too! I was thinking that talking to Solas in dreams…I don’t know, stuck? That some of what he said was sticking in our subconscious. Although, I may get the gist of what people are saying, but I’m really bad at making my own sentences,” Naomi replied.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, then, “What about David! He’s actually sick!”

Naomi glanced at David, noting that he looked to be sleeping peacefully. “Solas and I found him last night… in this ‘Fade’ everyone talks about. He said he would come back.”

“I don’t know… that seems crazy.”

Naomi gave James a serious look. “Everything here is crazy! But… I trust Solas, and he said finding David would work, so it _will_ work!”

James gazed at David for a few seconds, then sighed and looked back to Naomi. “What are we going to do?”

Naomi buried her own head, “I think we just need to focus less on _how_ we could be here, and just realize that we _are_ here. And that means we need to try and figure out how to live here.” She felt sick as she said the words. She had always hated moving to new places.

They lapsed back into silence. Eventually Naomi looked up, noticing James wasn’t eating. “James, I went all the way to the tavern to get that food, you better eat it.” He grabbed the food, digging into the chunk of cheese.

“What finally made you realize this wasn’t a dream?” she asked.

James swallowed his bite. “Oh, well, after going to the bathroom, I saw Nassella at the stables. I went to talk to her and… well… let’s just say I couldn’t ignore a kick from a horse.” He looked down and frowned, stuffing more food into his mouth. Naomi suspected his mind had turned to Makenzie.

Naomi winced. “You know you’re supposed to go work there tomorrow,” she said.

He groaned, “Don’t remind me.”

James finished his meal, then promptly went back to sleep. Naomi pulled James’ Bible out of his backpack and carefully laid down on her cot. She spent hours flipping through the pages, reading verse after verse. She found herself crying every few minutes, reminded of her family and what they were thinking.

The light was turning gold, indicating the sun was approaching the horizon, when she heard a groan. Ignoring her injuries, Naomi scrambled out of her cot, rushing to David’s side, almost crying with relief when he started to open his eyes, mumbling, “What…? Naomi?”

“David? Oh my God, you’re awake! James! James, wake up! Go get a healer, he’ll need medicine and food...” Her brother jumped from his cot, whooped, and ran out of the tent, yelling for help. Naomi turned back to David and smiled. His eyes were open, and she realized with a jolt that instead of gray surrounding gold, his eyes were entirely bright green. It was disconcerting, but she just cared that he was awake.

But suddenly, his body seized, fists clenching and back arching. His eyes started to roll back into his head. Terrified, Naomi grabbed one of his arms, starting to cry as she wracked her mind for what to do. His body started to shake and Naomi realized with horror that he wasn’t breathing. Suddenly a figure appeared at his head, and Naomi saw the gray-haired healer had returned.

Then, as suddenly as it began, his body relaxed. Naomi let out her breath, realizing she had been holding it. She watched David’s face, waiting for him to open his eyes.

But they stayed closed. The gray-haired woman gently placed her fingers along her brother’s neck, then looked at Naomi and shook her head.

“No,” Naomi whispered, stumbling back from the cot.

The healer stood, still shaking her head. James pushed past Naomi to David’s side. “No,” he said, “he’s fine.” His voice broke.

“No,” Naomi said again, details of the world starting to fade. She could faintly here the healer’s voice, but she couldn’t comprehend her words. _He was awake. He was fine!_ Naomi’s peripheral vision started to blur, then went dark. All she could see was James in front of her, shaking David’s shoulders. She watched as David’s head rolled to the side, pale and thin.

Her breathing increased and she could feel her chest clench, pain emanating from her healing ribs. Hot tears were falling down her cheeks, and when James collapsed over David, she lost control.

“No!” she shouted, suddenly feeling the urge to flee. She pulled the tent flap aside, nearly blinded by tears, pushing past a tall body as she exited. Frantically she scanned the area, looking for somewhere to go. She saw the setting sun shining off the lake and started to move. A few steps in she felt a hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off and ran, injuries forgotten. She ran past the soldiers, the children playing ball, and the horses and carts they pulled. Ran to the shore of the lake. Breathing ragged and heavy, she stopped, looking out at the sky as the sun slipped below the horizon. She could see a bright star hanging low, blinking in the clear air.

Then she curled herself around her knees, buried her head in her arms, and broke.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen didn’t know what had compelled him to reach for Naomi as she ran away from the tent. He had been nearby when James rushed into the open, yelling for a healer, saying his brother was awake. Cullen had approached, surprised the boy had come out of his coma, but wary that he may be possessed. Lasia had rushed to James’ call, and Cullen continued forward as they entered the tent. Things were quiet for a minute, but when a panicked ‘Neen!’ emanated from the tent, he had jogged forward to enter. He was almost through the entrance when a figure dressed in blue burst through the flap, brushing past Cullen and stopping a few steps away. He recognized Naomi and saw her shoulders shaking, left hand clenched into a fist. Cullen immediately knew what had happened, and inexplicably reached for her.

But she was gone, running through the camp. Cullen shook his head, dropping his hand, confused at his own reaction. Many people had lost family from the fighting or at the Conclave, and the refugees arriving every day attested to the numerous homes that had been lost. But Cullen knew that this woman and her brother were different. They had no hope of returning to their home, and losing a young brother would help nothing.

Naomi had reached the lake, silhouetted against the setting sun, and Cullen watched as she curled around her knees, rocking slightly. With a sigh, Cullen turned to enter the tent. Inside, he found Lasia shaking her head and James on his knees, staring at the pale child on the cot.

“Lasia, go inform Josephine and Leliana of the boy’s death,” he whispered to the healer. She nodded and left the tent.

Cullen turned to James, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. They were shaking. James jumped at the touch, but he stood slowly and faced Cullen. Cullen could see tears had fallen down his cheeks and his eyes were still wet.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Cullen said, looking into the man’s strange, green-blue eyes. “Is there anything I can do?”

James looked back at the cot. “Hoe kon dit gebeuren? We waren net op een wandeling ...” Cullen watched as the man’s expression changed from hopeless to angry. Those eyes flashed back to him. “Someone… did this? Made… thing? Brought… h- here?”

Cullen nodded, “Yes. Someone made the Breach. We don’t know who.”

James set his jaw, and Cullen was surprised to see the cold determination that settled on his face. “I want… fi- fight.”

Cullen searched the man’s face. Something had changed. When Cullen had last interacted with the man he had been disengaged, distracted when meeting with the Inquisition’s leaders. But now an anger burned in his eyes, glinting slightly in the fading light.

He had seen that look before, on the faces of recruits, Templars, and city guards. It always came with loss: of home, loved-ones, or livelihood, when that person had someone to blame. Most with that look burned out, but a few became forces to be reckoned with.

And while this man was not currently in fighting shape, he was tall and had a good frame, clearly having received proper nutrition all his life. He could be useful, and Cullen was in no position to turn away willing recruits.

Cullen nodded, “Of course. Report to the lists tomorrow.” James looked back at his brother, tears gone. He sat down on one of the cots, hands placed on his chin. Cullen ducked out of the tent, giving the man his privacy. The sun had set and the light was quickly fading. Looking to the lake, Cullen could see Naomi’s dark form, huddled on the ground. He contemplated approaching her. _No,_ he thought, _she needs time to grieve._

Instead, he wandered around the camp, talking with the soldiers and recruits, getting a sense for the morale of the camp. It had been a week since the Conclave explosion, and the Herald had only stabilized the Breach a few days before. People were still recovering from the initial chaos, and their worries were far from over. Cullen sensed a long fight was ahead, but he believed in the Inquisition and its purpose.

It was growing late, the first watch of the night minutes away from relief, when James approached Cullen in his tent. He had been doing paperwork by candlelight, and was surprised to see the dark-haired man.

“Commander, is… s- some-… move David… until… he can be… um…ik weet het niet…begraven?” the man asked.

Standing, Cullen indicated for the man to follow. “Yes. I’ll find someone to bring him to the mortuary tent. We burn the dead. We have been short on wood, but the Herald discovered a logging stand before she left, and we hope to hold a funeral soon.” Cullen beckoned to two soldiers still awake. “You two, there is a boy in that tent there that needs to be brought to the mortuary.” The recruits saluted and ran to the tent. Cullen turned to James.

“Has your sister returned?” he asked.

James shook his head, “No.”

Cullen frowned. It had been nearly three hours since he had last seen Naomi by the lake, and it was winter. He strode across the camp, James following on his heels. Approaching the shore where he had last seen the woman, he cursed under his breath when he found her, still curled on the ground. She didn’t respond to her name, and when Cullen examined her face, he could see she was unconscious. More worrying, though, was her lack of shivering. He bent down, picking her up and carrying her back across the snowy ground to the healer’s tent.

“Is ze in orde?” James whispered. Though he spoke in his native language, Cullen understood he was concerned.

Cullen grunted, shifting slightly to get a better hold. “I’m not sure. It’s very cold tonight...”

They reached the tent, and Cullen placed the woman gently down on a cot. She didn’t move. Cullen shook his head, and turned to Lasia as she approached.

“What is wrong Commander?” she asked.

“She has been outside for nearly three hours, in the snow by the lake.”

Lasia bent down to examine her hands, then checked her head. She stood and pulled a blanket over her body. “She was spared from frostbite, but she is hypothermic. I need to warm her up, and watch her for illness. Thank you for bringing her in, Commander.”

“Of course.” He turned to James, “She will be in good hands here. I will see you tomorrow.”

The foreign dark-haired man nodded, kneeling to adjust his sister’s blankets. Outside, Cullen stood for a moment, watching the moon rise large on the horizon. _Why didn’t I think to look sooner?_ He looked at the Breach, and cursed whoever had pushed the world into chaos, disrupting the lives of so many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoe kon dit gebeuren? We waren gewoon aan het wandelen = How could this happen? We were just taking a hike…  
> ik weet het niet…begraven = I don’t know… buried  
> Is ze in orde? = Is she okay?  
> (Translations courtesy of Google translate and Kamille)


	9. Gone

Lightening flashed across the sky and rain pelted her skin, plastering her hair to her face. Wind was violently throwing waves on the shore, and thunder rumbled from the swirling clouds. Naomi shivered, looking around for her bearings.

_It’s the lake… this is where I started looking for David…_

Naomi turned from the water, to the woods behind her. The trees were bare, branches twisting and creaking in the wind. She started forward, pushing through tangled branches and thorns. _When did the underbrush get so thick...?_

And then she encountered a barrier. It was blue, shimmering slightly, but transparent, and Naomi could see the hazy outlines of trees beyond its border. She stopped, unsure what to do next, as such a barrier had not existed when she was with Solas. But she had to find David, she had to bring him back. So she touched the blue barrier, a slight hum of energy brushing over her skin. And as she brushed against it, the barrier disappeared, and soon she had created a hole big enough to step through. The trees extended on the other side, and she pushed forward.

Clothes torn and skin bloody, Noami broke from the trees, wind once again slapping her face. The grasses spread in front of her, wind violently bending their stalks, mirroring the waves on the lake. Rain continued to fall and lightening began flashing almost constantly, the _cracks_ of thunder immediate and deafening, rumbles shaking her body. She pushed forward.

The grass was over her head, wet stalks resisting her every push forward. She stumbled almost every other step, falling to her knees again, and again, and again…

She walked for hours. The wind howled and thunder roared, but Naomi kept going, thinking _one more step, one more…I’ll find him!_

She tripped, falling completely forward, catching herself with her arms. She laid still, forehead against the earth, trying to catch her breath.

_Get up. Keep going. You’ll find him. He’s not gone._

She stood, yelling, “David!” into the wind.

She pushed forward. _One more step, one more step, one more step…_

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

“David…” Naomi mumbled, shifting slightly under her blanket. James leaned over, seeing if she was waking. Instead, she stilled, continuing to sleep. With a sigh, he sat back on his stool.

He was worried. Naomi had been sick for almost three days, since Cullen had carried her back from the lake. She was unconscious most of the time, and though she had occasionally mumbled incoherently, she never opened her eyes. She had a fever that would not break, and alternated between fits of intense sweating and violent shivering. The healers struggled to get her to take any medicine or drink any water. He was scared. He knew she needed to get liquids soon, or she wouldn’t make it.

_Why did she have to run away like that?_

Naomi moaned, thrashing her head back and forth, sweat breaking out on her forehead. James stood and grabbed a cloth soaking in a bowl of water, dabbing the damp rag across her face and neck, washing the sweat away. Her breathing was ragged and short.

_She should’ve been smarter than that._

Lasia appeared, pulling her blankets back to examine her wounds. The gash in her leg had come down with an infection the previous morning, her thigh now bright red and slightly swollen, the skin around the wound burning even warmer than the rest of her body. The healer removed the bandages, placing a new poultice over it. James felt tears pricking his eyes at the sight of her pale, bruised, and thin body.

_God, why did she do that?_

Initially, he had not known how sick she was. After bringing her to the tent that first night, the healer and insisted he did not need to stay, that she just needed to warm up. So, the next morning he had thought nothing when he reported to Cullen, finding himself placed in basic training, a wooden sword thrust in his hands.

James knew he wasn’t as strong as the others, and he had no experience fighting with a sword and shield. He lost nearly every sparring match, but pushed forward, constantly reminded of his reasons for being there by the Breach hanging green and ominous in the sky.

Then, during his last bout of sparring, he had finally won. Everyone was tired by the end of the day, himself included, but he was mercifully not sore. He had finally managed to disarm his opponent. It was a small victory, but he had felt a rush when he tapped his partner’s neck with his practice sword.

He had been proud, and wanted to tell Naomi that he would help fight David’s killer. But when he returned to their tent, she wasn’t there.

He had not worried then, but when the sun was setting and she had still not returned, he went to find her.

And when he did, he wished he had never left the night before.

“How is she?” Startled, James looked up to see Commander Cullen standing on the opposite side of the cot, frowning as he looked at his sister.

James sighed, shaking his head, “No… dif-… dif-… change.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, shifting on his feet. “I saw her go to the lake. I knew she was there. I should have looked sooner. I’m sorry.”

James felt a pang of anger. _Yeah, he should have, if he knew she went down there._

“Yeah, that would’ve been nice,” he grumbled in English. They were silent for a few moments, James glaring at nothing in particular, Cullen shifting his weight awkwardly across the cot.

Finally, the Commander broke the silence. “You should know, there is to be an angladd in a little over a week. The llosgi will be burned, gan gynnwys your brother.”

James didn’t have the energy to ask for further explanation. He understood that some sort of funeral was going to be held for his brother, with others. And he was trying not to think about his brother, or anything for that matter. He couldn’t deal with David’s death and his sister’s sickness at the same time. It had been just over a week since he had woken in this place, and for much of that time Naomi had been sick and he had been alone. He wished he could talk to Makenzie, but she was worlds away. He would never see her again, and that knowledge left him empty.

“Fine,” he said curtly, wishing the man would leave.

But before he had a chance, Naomi began thrashing, yelling, “Where is he?! Where is David?! Tell me!” James sprang to his feet, thinking to hold her still. But Cullen was standing and beat him to it, placing hands on her shoulders to keep her from moving and aggravating her injuries further. She was sweating and thrashing her head, and continued to mumble incoherently. James looked at her pained face, panicked. It was the worst outburst yet.

And then she calmed, and James checked her neck for a pulse. It was racing and he looked around for Lasia, but not seeing the gray-headed healer, he turned back, tensing slightly when he saw Cullen still holding Naomi’s shoulders, frowning as he looked at her face. Suddenly angry, James wanted to push the other man away. Naomi was breathing easier, and around Cullen’s arms he could see her eyes as they started to flicker open.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

_One more step. One more step. One more step._

Naomi was near collapse. Her clothes were soaked, legs leaden and heavy, her steps bringing her no closer to her destination.

_Except I don’t have a destination._

_One more step._

_One more step._

_One more step._

Then she heard it.

It was faint, and she almost didn’t believe it was real over the sound of the wind and thunder. But when she stopped and listened purposefully, she heard it again.

A laugh, followed by the bounce of a basketball.

Renewed vigor in her steps, Naomi pushed as quickly as she could through the grass. Thunder crashed above her and the wind howled, growing in intensity with every step. The lightning flashes came more and more frequently, until she was nearly blinded, dizzy from their strobe-like quality. She was almost deaf, her ears ringing, and considered turning back, when she once again fell from the confines of the grasses.

Picking herself up, she realized the thunder had stopped and the wind was still. A light drizzle still fell, but it was nothing like the hard drops that had been pelting her face for hours. She realized she was back on the basketball court, and excitedly looked around for David.

Instead, she saw the black-haired girl, purple eyes glowing in the dim light, slowly bouncing a basketball on the cracked and overgrown court.

Naomi studied the child. She had found her disconcerting the last time they met, and finding her here, alone, with David’s basketball, only made that feeling grow. Solas had said she was a spirit and hadn’t seemed afraid, but Naomi was wary to face her alone. She wanted to turn and run back into the grasses, but she needed to find David.

“Do you know where David is?” she asked hesitantly.

The girl cocked her head slightly to the side, continuing to bounce the ball. She stared back at Naomi, staying silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Why do you ask?” the child finally said.

Naomi frowned, “He’s my brother… he was supposed to come back with me. He was here, with you.”

“Yes, he was here, but no longer.” She continued to bounce… bounce… bounce…

Naomi started to get angry, “I thought you were supposed to be Comfort, or something? I’m not exactly ‘comforted’ by anything you’re saying.”

The girl caught the ball and glared at Naomi. “You would not bring him comfort. You would bring him only pain.”

Naomi was angry, wanting a straight answer from this child. “Where is he?! Where is David?! Tell me!”

The girl studied Naomi, then a small smile curled her lips. “I could bring you to him, if that is what you want.”

Naomi’s heart leapt in her chest, _yes yes yes!_ But before she could answer a voice spoke behind her.

“Naomi?”

With a start, Naomi spun around, finding herself looking at Solas as he ran across the court. She turned to look back for the girl, but she was gone.

“Naomi, what are you doing here? How did you get here?” he asked, stopping a few paces away, brow furrowed in worry.

“I… I’ve been looking for David! He… he… woke up, but then he was gone! I have to find him! That girl said she could bring me to him!” Naomi said, tears starting to fall. She tried to move forward, but Solas grabbed her shoulder, strong grip keeping her from moving.

“Wait. Naomi, if that is true, you’ve been here for three days. You will not find him.”

Naomi gaped at Solas. _Has it really been that long?_  “What…? But she said she could…”

“No. If David were here to be found, you would have done so by now.”

Naomi looked into his blue eyes, suddenly remembering he had been here with her before. “You said he would come back! We found him and you said he would be okay!” she yelled, lightening flashing across the sky.

Solas looked sadly back, “I know, and I am sorry for giving you false hope. I thought he would, but the shock of returning to his body after so long must have been too much.”

“He’s really gone…? No, I can…” Noami said, trying to move past Solas, but his grip was firm.

“I’m sorry Naomi. But right now, you must go back. You have been here too long. You did not survive a physical journey through the Fade to die of starvation,” Solas said, dropping his arm.

Noami slumped her shoulders, looking around the court, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know how…”

“I will help you, but you must promise me you will not stay here this long again,” Solas said, looking into her eyes intently.

Naomi nodded weakly, “Okay…” _He’s gone…_

Solas sighed, “There is one other matter. If you find yourself here again, you must not speak with anybody you meet. Do you understand?”

Noami slowly nodded, “Sure…” _He’s gone…_

Solas grabbed her shoulder again, “I am serious Naomi. It will be weeks before we return from the Hinterlands, but I will speak with you as soon as we do, to explain. But now, you must wake up. Take my hands.” Naomi took the offered appendages, looking at Solas. He gave her a small smile, then the world went dark.

 

 -----

 

Naomi blinked and found herself staring into the golden eyes of Commander Cullen. His brow was furrowed, and he was clearly worried. “Thank the Maker,” he whispered. _What the…?_

Then she started coughing, and every wracking jolt through her body aggravated a new pain, first her ribs, then her arm, and finally the terrible ache in her leg. She quieted, but moaned, realizing she was shaking, cold sweat pouring from every inch of her skin, and her head pounded.

“Are you alright?” he asked, searching her face. Naomi frowned.

“... I don’t…” she whispered.

Cullen sighed, dabbing a cloth across her forehead. She looked back into his eyes, confused. _Why is the Commander of the Inquisition’s army washing my face?_

“Wha…?” she started to ask, but it came out as a croak. Trying to swallow, she looked away from his gaze, seeing James standing on her other side, his expression just as worried and serious. Then she was assaulted by another series of coughs.

When she finally quieted, she laid with her eyes closed, trying to control her urge to cry from the pain. She felt the cool cloth on her forehead again.

“Here… give,” she heard James say curtly. The cloth was removed.

“Ah… of course,” Cullen murmured. The cloth returned.

Naomi peaked from beneath her lids, seeing James bending over her now, wiping her sweaty face. Glancing around, she saw Cullen standing at the foot of her cot, expressionless. Then he turned to the end of the tent and walked out of her sight.

Her body shook and she fell into another fit, the pains in her chest growing worse with each cough. The gray-haired healer appeared above her, placing a hand on her forehead. “Her twymyn is breaking, but this peswch is new…and with her injuries…”

“Will she… alright?” James asked.

“She needs something to calm the peswch.” And the woman was gone.

Naomi tried to make sense of her situation. She had woken like this days before… _No, it’s different… James is here and I understand... and I was getting better…_

Everything crashed back. D _avid… died… I went to the lake… it was so cold, but I didn’t care._

She looked into James’ eyes, starting to cry. “David…,” she croaked. James knelt down to her level, looking into her eyes, tears making his own shine.

“He’s gone,” he whispered. Big tears slipped from Naomi’s eyes, running own her face into her hair. She felt her throat start to tickle. _No… not now._ But the coughs came, and by the end she was crying from pain, her ribs feeling like they had re-broken. The healer returned, lifting Naomi’s head. She drank the cup of liquid the healer offered, followed by more body-rattling coughs. She felt her eyes drooping, and turned away from James, sobbing into her blanket until she fell into unconsciousness.


	10. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a week later…
> 
> And I have no idea what funerals in Ferelden are like, but I read somewhere that they burn bodies… so I went with it, figuring there would be singing and chanting.

The sun was starting to set as Cullen walked next to Leliana and Josephine toward the large piles of wood that had been set up some distance from Haven. Those that died in the immediate aftermath of the Conclave had been burned already, burnt pyres now scattered along the way to the destroyed Temple of Sacred Ashes. However, many injured had died since, and Cullen hoped that holding a formal funeral would improve the morale of those gathered in Haven.

At the pyre, the Inquisition advisors found their way to a small rise where Mother Giselle was already standing. The Chantry mother had arrived from the Hinterlands that morning and was to lead the funeral rites. He watched as a few stragglers found their places around the circle, and then Mother Giselle began to sing.

_For those we love within the Veil,_  
_Who once were comrades of our way,_  
_We thank thee, Maker; for they have won  
_ _To cloudless day._

Cullen knew the hymn well, and raised his voice with the others as they joined in.

_Not as we knew them anymore,_  
_Toil worn, and sad with burdened care:_  
_Erect, clear eyed, upon their brows  
_ _Thy name they bear._

_Free from the fret of mortal years,_  
_And knowing now the Maker’s will,_  
_With quickened sense and heightened joy,  
_ _They serve Thee still._

They hymn ended and silence hung over the gathered crowd. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the light was fading. All eyes were on the Mother.

“We are here today to remember those lost at the Conclave, and to remember those who gave their lives protecting others from the horrors of the Breach. So many good people were senselessly taken from us. Our Divine Justinia, mages and Templars alike… humans, elves, dwarves, and Qunari. People from Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches, and beyond were lost. It is easy to turn to fear in a time like this, and fear makes us desperate. But we are not beyond reason. I believe our differences can still be reconciled, and those who died at the Conclave will not have done so in vain. Hope is what we now need, and Andraste has given us that hope. Her Herald may not share our faith, but she shares in our grief. She will not rest until the Breach is closed.” Then she began to chant.

_The one who repents, who has faith,_  
_Unshaken by the darkness of the world,_  
_She shall know true peace._  
_The Light shall lead her safely_  
_Through the paths of this world, and into the next.  
_ _For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water…_

At this point, several soldiers approached the pyre with torches. They lowered the flames to the wood, and he could see the pitch and oil thrown on the logs gleam in the light before it caught fire. The flames spread over the wood quickly, settling in to burn long and hot, reducing the bodies of mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, friends and strangers, to ash.

_As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,_  
_She should see fire and go towards Light._  
_The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,_  
_And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
_ _Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword._

Cullen felt a slight tightening of his throat as she finished the verse. _So many good people died fighting those demons…_ And many more would die in the months, even years ahead, as the Inquisition worked to bring peace to Thedas.He scanned the crowd, catching sight of James standing among the throng. The man was standing tall, head held high. He was staring at the fire, and Cullen thought of how furiously he had thrown himself into training. The man had started out rough, but his strength and skill was improving at a faster rate than most recruits, especially considering his starting point. And his determination had only grown, since that first night when he asked to join. _It is no surprise. His life has been affected more than most, in a way._

His thoughts turned to the man’s sister, and he felt a pang of worry. He found himself concerned for Naomi’s recovery, and he always made sure to inquire after her condition when he visited the healing tents. He blamed himself for her current state, upset that he had not checked to make sure she returned from the lakeshore sooner. Her fever had broken, but she was still plagued with coughing fits and it was complicating and slowing the recovery of her other injuries. She had also lost an alarming amount of weight while fighting the fever. She had showed no signs of improving, and he was beginning to fear she would follow the way of her brother.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Mother Giselle. “Draw your last breath, my friends. Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker’s right hand, and be forgiven.”

The crowd began to disperse. Cullen stayed for a few moments, watching as the fire spread across the pyre. The wood crackled as it was consumed, and Cullen could feel the heat from the fire, even as far away as he was. He scanned the crowd that remained, noticing James still by the fire, head bent down as he read from a book. Cullen watched as the man snapped the book shut, flinging it toward the fire. It fell short, but James had already turned to return to the camp. Curious, Cullen walked toward the pyre, squinting against the intense heat emanating from the blaze, picking up the tome.

Turning from the flames, he inspected the book. It was small and well-bound in leather, two perpendicular lines crossing on the front, shining with what looked like gold. Flipping through the pages, he marveled at how thin the paper was. The words and symbols on the page were completely foreign, and he realized, on closer inspection, that the printing was the smallest and most consistent he had ever seen.

_Why did he throw this away? They have so few possessions from their home here._

He returned to the camp, still carrying the book. Seeing the healer’s tent, he changed his course. James clearly didn’t want the book, but Naomi might. But as he approached, James exited quickly, and he could hear violent coughing coming from inside the tent. _Some other time_ , Cullen thought, and changed direction again, returning instead to his tent, placing the book on his desk. He lit a candle and sat, preparing himself for a long night of paperwork.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James hardly paid attention to what was said at the funeral. Instead he stared at the pile of wood where his brother’s body was laid, hardly registering when torches were lowered to light the pitch-soaked logs, throwing flames across the pyre.

Eventually the people around him began to disperse, and he was pulled back to himself when a child bumped into him. He opened his Bible, flipping through the pages until he found a verse that had been read at this grandfather’s funeral a few months before. _Though he brings grief, he also shows compassion according to the greatness of his unfailing love_. He glared at the words, then abruptly slammed the book shut and threw it toward the flames, turning away before it landed.

_A compassionate God with unfailing love wouldn’t have let David die, or have let us come here at all…_

He stalked back to the camp, setting a course for the healer’s tent. Naomi had improved, barely, but she was still too sick to come to the funeral. He at least no longer feared she was in danger of dying.

_I don’t know why I even bother to visit her, she’s hardly talked to me since she woke up. All she does is cry and stare at the ceiling…_

He paused at the entrance of the tent, preparing himself for the stench. He had become accustomed to his own smell, and the smell of the people around him, for the most part. But it was worse in closed places, and the healer’s tent was packed with sick, unwashed people.

Once inside he dodged the cots that were dimly illuminated by candles. Braziers were scattered around the tent, but their warmth was meager, and did little to keep the freezing spring night temperatures at bay. James found himself cold nearly all the time, and was envious of the thick pile of blankets Naomi had covering her body.

She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, but when he sat on the stool next to her cot she glanced over at him from the corner of her eyes. Dark circles hung below her eyes, and her hair hung limp and tangled.

“The funeral’s over,” he said gruffly.

She nodded and a few tears leaked out of her eyes. _God, does she ever stop crying…?_

“How was it?” she whispered, followed by a few quiet coughs.

James shrugged, “Fine, I suppose.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t know. What else do you want me to say?” he asked, irritated.

She shrugged, closing her eyes again. James glared at his sister. _Seriously, what else does she want me to say? She would know, if she hadn’t gotten herself sick, staying out in the cold like that. Or if she’d quit moping and actually eat… seriously, I don’t know why I even come…_

He stood abruptly, knocking the stool over in the process. Naomi opened her eyes, looking at him with wet eyes. “You’re leaving?”

He let out a huff. “Yeah, I really need to sleep, I have training tomorrow.”

Naomi frowned, “Training…?” _Shit. I never told her I joined the army…_

“Yeah, I’ve been training with the soldiers,” he admitted.

Naomi’s eyes grew wide, and she started sitting up. “What? Why would you do that?” She rasped, trying to speak above her normal whisper.

A stab of anger rushed through James. “Because I want to help kill whoever did this,” he defended.

“But… this isn’t a game James. You can’t learn to fight, what if… what if…?” she said, starting to cry again. James rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’m not going to do nothing!” he said, glaring at his sister. He felt his eyes prick with tears. _No! Don’t cry. There’s no room to be weak._ “This place is different, Naomi. I _have_ to learn to fight.”

“No. You don’t _have_ to do anything,” she choked out around a cough.

James was angry. “These people want to find out who killed David! And I want to too! Besides, learning how to fight will make it less likely that I’ll get hurt.” He turned to leave.

“Don’t be stupid,” Naomi croaked after him, “knowing how to fight means they’ll just put you somewhere you _can_ get hurt. Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

James whirled on her, gesturing largely, “You haven’t talked to me in a week! And I don’t have to get permission from you! If you want to sit here, moping around, not eating, that’s up to you. But I actually care about what happened to David, and want to do something about it, and I don’t need to come to you for anything!”

Naomi looked like he had slapped her, and opened her mouth to speak. But before she could talk, she started to cough, her body bent over and shaking with each attack. Seeing Lasia rushing toward his sister, James took the opportunity to leave.

He made for his new tent, glaring at the ground as he walked. _She’s always getting in my business… just like Mom…_

And he didn’t have to apologize for wanting to learn to fight. It was more than just wanting to kill his brother’s killer. Fighting was something he could do here. Realizing he was in a new world with no skills… it had been devastating at first. He had never been fond of school, but now he wished he had spent less time in a classroom, and more time gaining some sort of skill back home. Fighting was something he could learn relatively quickly, he wouldn’t have to be useless for long. His sister should understand that. She had spent even more time specializing in a field that likely would not transfer.

He was almost through his tent’s entrance when he heard “Westerkamp!” shouted from behind. He turned to see Alec, one of the Templars approaching. The man often led his drills, and had commented on James’ skills as they had improved over the two weeks he had been training.

The man slapped him on the shoulder. “Westerkamp, some of us were just heading to the Singing Maiden for a round of drinks. You should join us tonight.”

James initial reaction was to refuse. Over the last week the red-haired man had asked him to the tavern occasionally, but James had always refused, instead spending his evenings sitting with Naomi. But he was fed up with her and with being alone.

He wasn’t much of a drinker though… and he was broke.

“I don’t… have any… money…” he said, turning more fully toward the other man.

Alec laughed, “You don’t have to worry about that. The Inquisition’s paying for the tap tonight, for the funeral.”

Out of excuses, James nodded. “Alright… I’ll come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Those We Love Within the Veil – Christian hymn  
> Chant of Light and dialogue from Bioware


	11. Adapt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next day...

Naomi stared up at the ceiling of the tent, watching as ripples played across the fabric in the breeze. It was late afternoon, but she had no desire to leave. Everything about her life was changed, and staying in bed was the best way to avoid facing that reality.

Not that she could leave if she wanted to.

For a couple of days after waking in the healer’s tent for the second time, she had thought she was going to die. Finding herself fevered, with a body wracking cough, had brought to mind the terrible epidemics that had spread like a wave ahead of Europeans as they explored the New World, decimating the populations of native peoples across the continent. The diseases had been especially deadly because the Native Americans had no immunity, having never encountered the pathogens. Naomi considered she had come down with a disease from Thedas, and having no vaccination, would quickly succumb.

But her fever had broken, and she no longer thought she was going to die. She was weak, still coughing, had an infected leg and broken bones, but she was alive.

Watching the play of the breeze on the fabric, she thought of James and their fight the night before, feeling angry and hurt. _How can he say I don’t care? Of course I care! I’ve done nothing but think about David and what happened… and he just goes to play soldier? I haven’t even seen him cry…_

Letting a few of her own, angry tears loose, Naomi turned her mind to home, trying to calm her anger. She thought of the tree across the street from her house that changed bright orange in autumn, and what if felt like to walk through a blooming prairie in summer. She thought about Christmas lights strung around her hometown in December, shining off of the snow clinging to buildings and trees, and the first robin’s song of the spring. She thought about watching television shows on the Internet, and of singing in her church choir. She thought of her schooling, and that she had spent the last seven years of her life working to become a biologist, and that her knowledge was now next to useless. She thought of her friends and family. That she would never see them again.

Her heart ached to see them again.

She had often gone weeks without talking to friends and family scattered across the country, but the knowledge that they were a phone call away was enough to stave off homesickness. Texts and Facebook filled in the gaps.

But they were truly inaccessible now and her foundation was gone. There was nothing solid for her to fall back on, in order to push forward. And James was too flighty, too inconsistent to provide support. His angry outburst the night before demonstrated that.

Naomi had always had a purpose, something to strive for. Leaving graduate school with no plan had left her lost, in a way, but she had her family, her familiar life. Not here.

She was alive, but she didn’t know how she could make a life.

She didn’t know if she wanted to.

_It would be so much easier… to just slip away…_

No!

Naomi caught her breath, staring at the canvas of the tent. _Did I just…?_ She swallowed, _No!_ echoing through her mind, as if shouted by another voice. She took a deep breath, remembering more fully what James had said the night before.

_If you want to sit here, moping around, not eating, that’s up to you._

She lifted her blanket, looking down her body. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been this thin, her hips sharply defined and ribs visible. She brought a hand to her chest and felt the sharp lines of her collar bones. _When was the last time I ate?_

She glanced at the bowl of cold broth on the stool next to her cot. Lasia had brought it to her that morning, and she remembered taking a couple of sips before a coughing fit had distracted her. That’s how it had been since she woke, a few bites here and there, but nothing substantial.

Noami felt sick, and not from her empty stomach. She had never before considered that death would be easier than life. But that is what she had just done.

_What am I doing?_

_I’m not trying_.

She felt ashamed. Things were terrible and turned upside down, but she was alive and cared for. She had grown up a privileged American, but there were people in her own world who were worse off than she was now, and they still fought.

It was part of being human.

_I am a member of the most adaptable species Earth has ever seen. Homo sapiens did not spread to every corner of the globe by giving up when things got tough!_

_I can adapt._

Naomi looked back at the bowl of broth, noticing for the first time the deep ache in her stomach. She sat up and grabbed the bowl, grimacing slightly at the globs of fat that had coagulated in the cold. But she slurped the contents, choking slightly at her quick pace, and started to cough. Her ribs were aching and stomach growling when she felt a hand on her back, opening her eyes to see Lasia leaning over her, smiling. “Looks like someone yn olaf decided to fight. Byddai you like some more food?” Naomi nodded meekly, coughs subsiding.

Lasia returned with another bowl of broth, this one filled with chunks of meat and vegetables. Naomi took the bowl and started eating more slowly, feeling full for the first time in days. Lasia took the bowl back, easing Naomi back into a horizontal position. “That’s enough for now,” she said. “We don’t want to overwhelm your stomach.” The healer patted Naomi on the shoulder. “I know you lost your brother, but I don’t see how refusing food was going to bring him back. Thought for a hyn o bryd you wanted to follow him into the Void…”

Noami blushed, ashamed at her behavior, and that she had missed her brother’s funeral. She thought of her parents. They would think she and her brothers were dead, and while they would be right about David, she and James still lived. Her parents would be grieving the loss of three of their children, but if they knew Naomi lived, and that she was thinking of giving up, they would be devastated. Even though she wouldn’t see them again, Naomi couldn’t let them down. Not like this.

And she couldn’t leave James alone. He was frustrating and not her first choice of emotional support, but he was her brother and she needed him. She had been ignoring him and knew she had been wrong to do so.

As she waited for him to visit, Naomi thought of what she would do next. _Is there possibly anything from back home I could use…?_ Nothing came to mind. She worked with a very specific set of organisms, none of which she expected to occur here, and primarily dealt with scientific theories and information. She supposed there could be scientific researchers here, but she doubted they would be in the middle of this army camp. Not to mention she could hardly speak the language, couldn’t read or write…

But she wasn’t the type of scientist that worked in a lab. Many long days had been spent in the field, walking miles to sites, carrying equipment all of the way. She was used to hard work, was good with her hands, and a quick learner.

She recalled the woman… Josephine, had said she would assign her a job once she was healed. _So that’s it. I’ll get better, then see Josephine. If I have to wash dishes for the rest of my life, I’ll do it…,_ she grimaced inwardly at the thought, _No! You will do what you have to!_

One thing she knew she wouldn’t do was fight, like James had done. The thought of taking someone’s life made her sick, and thinking that James might do just that caused her anger to flare.

She looked to the entrance of the tent, wondering where he was. He always came to see her as the sun set. But she waited, the light in the tent turning orange, then going dark. As Lasia made her final rounds for the night, bringing Naomi a dose of medicine, she accepted that he wasn’t coming.

Naomi closed her eyes and settled further under her blankets, exhausted. _James, where are you?_

_\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

James turned over in his cot, trying to get into a more comfortable position. His body was tired, but he was unable to go to sleep, his mind wandering to home. It was easy during the day, while focusing on training, to keep his mind off of his brother, girlfriend, and lost life. But at night, without the distraction of television or the internet, he spent hours lying awake, refusing to cry. And when he did sleep, he would dream of home, and wake to crushing disappointment when he found himself in Thedas.

The previous night was the first time he had not struggled to go to sleep. The ales he had at the tavern left him nearly stumbling to his cot, and he was unconscious before he could think of anything other than the last joke told at the tavern, waking with no memories of his dreams.

He turned, wishing he could fall asleep so easily again. _It’s too early… I didn’t go see Naomi tonight…_ He felt a stab of anger thinking of his sister. He didn’t want to see her, not yet, but now he was left to try and fall asleep hours before he normally would.

With a groan James sat up, rubbing his hands across his eyes, then through his hair, grimacing at its greasy texture. He pulled on his shoes and walked from the tent, unsure of where he was going. Once outside, he noticed people sitting around a fire, and walked toward its light. As he drew near, he recognized many of the same faces from the tavern the night before.

He entered the circle illuminated by the fire, making eye contact with Alec across the flames. “James!” the man said, “good to see you again. Take a seat, we’ve got a bottle of mead… Emory, pass that bottle over here!” James made his way around the fire, to the open seat on the log next to Alec. He took the bottle offered to him, taking a whiff of the contents. He could detect a note of honey over the alcohol and took a hesitant sip, choking on the strong taste. He could hear Alec chuckling next to him, so he took another, longer drink, managing to swallow the burning liquid.

He passed the bottle to Alec. “That’s… strong,” he croaked. Alec grinned and took a long drink, giving the bottle back to James.

“That it is, but it will take the edge off of a long day.” James studied the bottle, _that’s what I want…_ and took another drink. Alec turned back the group around the flames, continuing a conversation James had interrupted.

“I almost didn’t come, thought about chasing after the rouge mages myself. But I was in Kirkwall when Seeker Pentaghast asked the Commander to lead up the forces here. He asked some of us Templars to come, to help train the recruits. Figured we could get the mages under control better with an actual army, instead of trampling across the countryside, so I followed him down. Not to mention the quality of women is better than in the woods.” There were nods and sounds of assent from around the circle. James couldn’t make sense of it, aside from the last comment.

“What about you James, how did you end up here?” Alec asked, taking the bottle. James’ mind raced. _I can’t tell them the truth... What was our backstory again…?_

“Um… well, I’m from the Anderfels…,” he began, remembering what had been discussed around the map those weeks ago. “…my…father farmed, but he died, and we lost everything to debt…” _But how did we end up down here…_ “My sister, brother, and I decided to come here… where our sister Abigail lived with her husband. But they were…” _umm…_ “…killed by mages…” _And then a little bit of the truth…_ “And then a rift opened up on top of us, and we were found by the Inquisition. Then our brother died and Naomi and I decided to stay.” _Yeah… that should work._

Alec shook his head. “Quite a bit of bad luck there. And where’s your sister?”

James frowned, his head fuzzy as the alcohol began to take effect. “She’s… sick.”

Alec shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. The Maker only makes so many women like that, it would be a shame if He took her from us. When she gets better, you should bring her by. I’d like to meet her,” he said.

James shrugged. “I could ask.” _Maybe she’d loosen up a bit…_

The red-haired man slapped him on the back, “Good.” Then, eyeing a couple of women as they walked past the fire, said, “Come on. Let’s go see if those two want to have a little fun.” He winked at James, standing to follow the women into the darkness. James took another swig, passing the bottle off and followed him. He caught up with them standing outside of a tent, Alec laughing, standing with hands on hips.

“And this is James, he’s a recruit,” the Templar said. One of the two, a slender blonde woman smiled, stepping forward and rubbing one of James’ arms.

“You’re strong. I’m sure you’ll make a great soldier.” She flashed him another smile, letting her hand linger. “I’m Sylvia.”

“Well, Alaina and I are going to go find some privacy,” Alec said with a grin. “You two don’t stay up too late now.” Then James was alone with the blonde woman. She took another step forward, still smiling.

“So… where are you from James?”

“Um… the Anderfels,” he said, flustered over her closeness.

Her eyes lit up. “The Anderfels? How exotic…” And then she was another step closer, nearly touching his body with hers. James flushed, realizing suddenly what Alec likely meant by ‘fun’. James was not inexperienced, he had a girlfriend after all, but there were some lines he had yet to cross. "I've never left Ferelden…,” Sylvia continued, “maybe we could find somewhere… and you can tell me all about the Anderfels...”

James felt his body respond to her advances. She was an attractive woman, and was drawing closer… “Um… I’m not sure…” he said, trying to think straight through his fuzzy mind.

Sylvia laughed, linking her hands behind his neck, her body now flush with his. Instinctively he brought his hands to her waist “Don’t be shy…” She drew nearer, leaning up to bring her lips to his…

But then, an image of Makenzie flashed in front of his mind, and James took a step back, pulling away from the blonde woman in front of him. “No… no. I have to go,” he said, and turned and walked away, back to the fire. Images of his girlfriend assaulted his mind; her tan skin, straight brown hair, and lively chocolate eyes, the way she scrunched her nose when she smiled, the gentle swell of her breasts and hips under his hands…

_No. She’s gone. I can’t keep thinking of her._

At the fire he stopped for a moment, grabbing the nearly empty bottle of mead, finishing the contents in one long drink. Then he returned to his tent, swaying slightly on his feet as he walked. Once in the tent he collapsed on his cot, asleep within seconds.


	12. Lost and Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several days later...

Naomi listened to the conversation between Lasia and the man sitting on the cot next to hers, trying to watch their actions, committing new words to memory.

“So, Elmer, how did your arm get heintio?” Lasia asked the man as she inspected the limb in question. Naomi could see that the man’s arm was swollen and red, yellow pus leaking from the gash that marred the skin. _Heintio isn’t the word for hurt or cut… so it probably means infected…?_

“Damn ysbeilwyr in the Hinterlands, hiding along the roads and jumping from the bushes. And it’s a six day journey back, with rough field dressing,” came the reply. _Ysbeilwyr… someone attacked him… it’s not soldier or mage… could be some sort of animal though… but that definitely looks like a blade made that cut. So, attacked by someone who hides in bushes… some sort of bandit then?_

“Well, I’ll get a poultice on it… unless you’d let a mage—“

“No! I don’t need magic to heal up a little cut,” he vehemently protested, grimacing slightly at the healer. Naomi frowned. He was the third person that morning she had seen refuse the help of a mage. She couldn’t understand why people wouldn’t let mages heal them, considering the alternatives of suffering days of pain, permanent damage, or worse. Lasia sighed, beckoning for one of the other healers to see to the man’s injuries. Then she was at Naomi’s side.

“Let’s have a look…” she murmured, poking and prodding Noami’s body. “Well, your cough is nearly gone, and it looks like your injuries are healing nicely. You won’t be back to normal for another few weeks though, unless... I don’t suppose you’d let the mage look at you? She just arrived from the Hinterlands and is eager to help.”

Naomi’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yes… that would be… fine.”

Lasia’s flashed Naomi a surprised look, but nodded and left to speak with the mage, a petite woman with the messiest head of red curls Naomi had ever seen.

When she approached, she gave Naomi a broad smile. “I’m Nora. Thank you for letting me tend to you.” The mage pulled the blankets back from Naomi’s body, gently using her hands to probe her sides, arms, and leg, trailing blue light everywhere she went. Naomi watched in awe as the mage hovered over the gash on her leg, light beginning to glow brighter. The wound began to itch, and before her eyes the skin stitched back together, leaving behind a pink scar of new skin, the pain gone.

“Whoa,” Naomi whispered, then sucked in a breath when the mage’s hands found her ribs, encircling her torso below her breasts. The woman took a deep breath, then the light glowed again and Naomi felt a rush of warmth, and she was suddenly able to breathe easier, taking deep gulps of air with no pain. The process was repeated on her arm.

Naomi flexed her fingers on her right hand, marveling at the ease in which her injuries were suddenly gone. Lasia helped her up, placing a bowl of stew in her hands. “Well, I think you’ll be able to leave today… though you should take it easy until the cough is gone.” _Wait, what?! Leave? Shit, shit, shit... no, it’s okay, you can do this!_ “I’ll have Nora heat up a couple buckets of water, so you can wash up,” Lasia said before walking away.

Naomi took deep breaths, preparing herself. She knew what she had to do, once she left the tent, but it didn’t make it any easier to face. _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…_

She was still trying to convince herself when Lasia returned. The healer helped Naomi stand, wrapping a blanket around her naked body. Naomi felt her legs shake, and her head spun slightly, but there was no pain. After a few unsteady steps she became more confident, and followed the other woman to the back of the tent, where two buckets were set up in a corner, along with a rag, bar of soap, and bundle of clothing.

“Here you are. Your clothes have also been washed.”

“Thank you,” Naomi said, kneeling down to inspect the water. It felt amazing, and Naomi closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the warmth encircling her submerged hands. After a moment she glanced over her shoulder, checking on the few healers moving among the cots, busy checking on other patients. There was no privacy, but she had been forced to get over that a few days ago, when she first had to pee, and used the chamber pot next to her cot. But such nakedness was a normal occurrence here, and no one looked or thought twice about it.

Slowly Naomi dropped the blanket from her shoulders, shivering in the cool air, and quickly washed her limbs with the rag and soap, thinking constantly _no one cares, no one cares, no one cares.._. She dressed in her underclothes and dunked her head to wash the dirt, grease, and sweat from her hair, combing out the tangles when she could. As clean as she was going to get, she finished dressing, realizing her clothes were no longer too small, even though they were still ragged.

Then she found herself in the open air. It had been over two weeks since she had been outside of the tent’s walls, and the sights of the bustling camp were almost as surprising as the first day. Except, everything was twice as busy, and she could see where new tents had expanded even further away from Haven’s walls. Getting her bearings, Naomi made her way through the camp, searching for the tent she and James were staying in. Spotting the correct one, she pulled the flaps aside to enter.

And stopped. The tent was filled with more cots than when she was there with her brothers, bundles and bags scattered across the floor. She stepped back from the tent, glancing around to ensure it was the right one. Convinced she hadn’t made a mistake, Naomi slowly entered.

It was clear that more people had moved into the tent, and Naomi made her way around the cots, wondering if James was still staying there. _Am I even supposed to stay here anymore?_ Every place appeared to be occupied, and she was at a loss.

_James!_ She thought, turning and rushing outside. She didn’t know where he would be, but quickly walked through the camp, looking for his head of dark, shaggy hair. She finally spotted him, talking with a red-haired man she recognized as the guard who had watched her that first night.

She approached her brother. “James, there you are!”

Her brother turned from his companion, surprise etched on his face. “Naomi? What are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “I got healed by a mage, so I don’t need to stay in the tent anymore…”

“What is she saying?” the red-haired Templar asked, small smirk on his lips, eyes glancing down her body.

“She said she got healed by a mage,” James replied in the man’s language. The Templar frowned at her.

“You let a mage touch you with their magic?” he asked. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” Naomi shook her head.

“It was fine…” She turned back to James. “I was wondering what tent we got moved to?”

James shrugged, “I don’t know… I moved in with the soldiers a few days ago.” Naomi slumped her shoulders.

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know,” James said. “Figure it out yourself, I’m busy. Come on Alec, let’s find some food.” Naomi watched, dumbfounded, while her brother walked away. Then anger and disappointment seared through her. _Why would he…?_ Suddenly feeling exposed, standing alone in the camp, she turned and walked away, thoughts of reconciling with her brother gone. She felt a few tears threatening, but wiped them away. When she reached the edge of the camp she stopped, not sure what to do. Scanning the view in front of her, she noticed a dark patch of ground, next to the lake, several hundred yards away. _People were talking about the funeral and the fire… that must be it._ Anger subsiding, Naomi started walking. She needed to see where her brother had been laid to rest.

When she reached the patch of ground she stopped, looking over the charred area. It had been a thorough burn, and it appeared as if any unburned remains had been removed. She felt her tears returning, as well as guilt for not being well enough to attend the burning of her brother. _I should have been there…_

She fell to her knees. She had failed David in so many ways; unable to bring him back, unable to find him when he was gone, and unable to be there for his body’s final moments on this earth.

She thought she was moving past crying, but as sobs began to wrack her body, she knew that wasn’t true. And as she fell back to the ground, curling into a ball, like she had the day David died, she wondered if it would ever be true. She wanted to move forward, but James’ rejection had been a punch to the gut. It wasn’t fair, to be so utterly alone, to lose her family, her life, her brothers, one to death and the other to indifference, so close together.

_No. I will move forward,_ she thought. _I have to and I will._

But at that moment she would mourn.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen gripped the edge of his desk, breathing heavily, willing the pain in his head to dissipate.

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder. Maker, though the darkness…_

A pang shot through his head and he shook the desk in frustration, causing a candle to wobble dangerously. He went to steady it, but knocked a stack of papers off the desk in the process, the loose sheets littering the floor of his tent. With a sigh he bent down to pick them up, suppressing a groan as his head throbbed at the sudden change in elevation.

After collecting the papers he stood, straightening the stack and moving to return them to their place. But he stopped when he noticed the book now left exposed. He recognized it as the tome James had discarded at the funeral, the one he had intended to return to Naomi. Realizing he was unlikely to get much work done in his current state, and that taking a walk might clear his head, Cullen picked up the book. He made his way across the camp, and after entering the shaded interior of the healer’s tent, he made his way to Naomi’s cot, but stopped when he found it empty.

His breath caught at the sight. He had not been by in over a week, since before the funeral, but could not imagine how the woman would have improved enough over that time to leave. _She must have succumbed to her illness…_

“She’s not here anymore Commander.” Cullen turned to find Lasia standing behind him. “I discharged her not too long ago.” A wave of relief washed over Cullen.

“Thank you Lasia, I had assumed the worst,” he admitted.

Lasia began collecting the blankets on the cot, “I did too, for a while there, but she turned a corner a few days ago, and actually started to eat.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “She didn’t happen to say where she was going?”

Lasia shook her head, arms full of blankets. “I’m afraid not. Strange woman, that one. I know she’s not from around here, but she seemed so confused all the time…. Her brother too. Could barely speak the language…”

“Yes, well, she was very ill,” Cullen offered. _It was probably too much to ask that no one would notice these people are different…_

Back outside, Cullen glanced around the camp, wondering where to begin his search. Now that he had remembered to return the book, he wanted to finish the task, finding his headache retreating with the exercise. As he approached the edge of the camp, he noticed a figure in blue moving along the lakeshore, turning at the dock to stand at its edge, and recognized it as Naomi.

At his footsteps Naomi turned quickly, giving him a wary look, crossing her arms over her stomach, hair damp and curling slightly as it dried. Her face was pink from the cold, and the flush of life was a striking contrast to the deathly paleness of her sickness. Her cheeks were wet, and he realized she had been crying.

She wiped a sleeve across her face, removing the offending moisture, but said nothing, eyes darting between him and the camp behind, fidgeting with the sleeves on her dress. He cleared his throat, offering the book to her.

“Miss Westerkamp, I am glad to see you well. I wanted to return this to you.” Naomi furrowed her brows in confusion, but stepped forward to take the offered tome. Once in her hands, a look of amazement washed over her face, smoothing out her features. She flipped through the pages, then looked at Cullen with a large smile.

Cullen’s heart beat faster at the sight. Aside from a small smile flashed at Solas the day she was discovered, this woman had only expressed varying shades of concern, confusion, pain, and grief, brow constantly furrowed. But her full smile transformed her face, and Cullen realized she could be considered attractive, beautiful even. Not in the striking way that Cassandra was beautiful, or exotically appealing like Josephine, or even traditionally pretty as was Leliana, but attractive nonetheless. Her features lacked sharp edges, despite the weight she had lost, and a dimple appeared on her right cheek with her smile.

And her eyes, wide with surprise, were stunning, in every sense of the word, two-toned irises shining brightly in the sun.

Then a touch of confusion returned to her face, though the smile remained. “How…? Where did you… get this?” she asked, looking at him, thankfulness openly splayed across her face.

Cullen couldn’t help but smile himself. It was not the reaction he had expected, but he was suddenly very glad he had picked up the book. It was such a simple thing, and he could not have anticipated its effects. “I saw your brother throw it away. I thought you might want it, so I retrieved it.”

The smile left Naomi’s face, worry returning with a frown. She gave a long look back at the camp, whispering under her breath, “James…wat ben je aan het doen?” Her sudden change in demeanor startled Cullen, and his curiosity was peaked.

“May I ask what it is?”

She looked back at the book and sighed, tracing the crossed lines on the cover. “It’s a ‘Bible’… the book of our… religion. You say James… throw it… away?” she asked, looking at him earnestly. Cullen nodded, now understanding her concern. While he did not know what these people believed, he understood what it meant to have his faith rattled. And while he had never turned from the Maker, he knew many who had.

_I wonder, if our positions were reversed, if I would react the same way…_

Naomi was shaking her head, but looked back at Cullen with another grateful smile. “Thank you… I – just, thank you.”

Cullen nodded and smiled, pleased to have brought some small happiness to this woman, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chant of Light from Bioware.
> 
> James… wat be je aan het doen? = James… what are you doing? (Google translate)


	13. Mending

_Over, under, over, under, over, under… turn. Over, under, over, under, over, under…_

Naomi squinted, moving the sock she was working on more fully into the light, trying to better see her stitches. She ran her tongue over her lips, leaving it stuck between her lips while she concentrated.

_Over, under, over, under, over…_

“Here is another load.” Naomi looked up to see Erna, the lead laundress, dropping off a basket overfilled with clean socks.

“Of course,” Naomi replied, heart sinking slightly at the sight. She had been placed in the laundry two weeks before by Josephine. Still weak from her sickness and recovering from her cough, she was given the undemanding task of mending clothing. While she had done some sewing before, her first few days were rough, Erna constantly looked over her shoulder, criticizing and correcting her technique. But Naomi was a quick learner, and was soon set to darning socks, day in and day out.

It was tedious, repetitive work, and she was growing to hate it, but it gave her a chance to listen and observe. The women in the laundry gossiped constantly about their lives, the Inquisition, and the world, giving her a chance to learn without asking questions.

_Under, over, under, over, under…_

It was how she learned that the people here really believed that Nassella had been sent by their savior Andraste.

It was how she learned to place rags in her underclothes, when she started bleeding, and that washing the rags with cold water removed the blood relatively easily.

It was how she learned that Templars had abilities that could subdue mages, and that they had guarded mages in things called ‘Circles’, before the mages rebelled.

It was how she was learning the language, more and more each day, often whispering replies to questions and commenting on the conversation in her head, solidifying the foundation laid by Solas in her dreams.

But she never joined in. She couldn’t. She had nothing to contribute, as her entire life up until a few weeks before was spent in a world with a completely different community, political situation, and culture. The first couple of days she worked in the laundry, the other women had tried to ask her questions about her life, and where she was from. But she didn’t know what to say, and had given short, cryptic answers. Eventually, they stopped asking.

Naomi was terrified of how people would react if they discovered she was from a different world, and had arrived here through the Fade. She had overheard enough conversations about the Breach, mages, and demons to know that anything associated with the Fade was reviled and feared. So she opted to say nothing, and therefore not risk revealing something that would raise suspicions.

But it meant that she remained distant from the people she worked with, and Naomi realized that she could never be completely honest with anybody in this place. A barrier would remain in all of her relationships, both romantic and platonic, and Naomi couldn’t see how to overcome it, aside from enough time to accumulate new experiences and knowledge to draw on. A total of seven people from this world knew her true origins, but Naomi knew the chances of befriending any of them were slim.

A tear dropped on the sock, but she wiped her eyes, blinking until they were dry. _You never had that many friends anyway, and you hardly ever saw them…_

_Under, over, under, over, under, over…_

_It’s okay. It’s not as bad as when you figured out you’ll probably die before you turn sixty… or fifty…_

_Over, under, over, under, over, under…_

_Or when you realized you’ll never see who Abby marries… or her children…_

_Under, over, under, over, under, over…_

_Or when David died…_

_Over, under, over, under, over… turn._

_It’s fine._

Naomi finished off the sock, clipping the thread with a knife. She grabbed the second sock and threaded the needle to start anew.

_So, no friends…_

Naomi stopped, dropping her work to her lap. She may not make friends, but she had family. She had been meaning to find James, to talk to him, but she worked all day and could never find him at night. Though, she realized, she didn’t try very hard, and had never actually _asked_ someone to point her to him, being too nervous to approach anybody. Instead, she hid in her tent after work, reading the Bible until it got dark, then was up with the sun to go back to work. Picking the sock back up, she resolved to find him that night, nervous or not.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

“Switch partners!” the Commander bellowed, walking through the pairs of recruits. James lowered his shield and sword, trying to catch his breath. He wiped the sweat from his eyes, moving down the line, eyeing his new partner. The man was short, but sturdy, and James sensed he would not be an easy opponent. It was nearing the end of the day, so he was tired, but James was committed to pushing himself, knowing that if he was going to fight, he had to be prepared. He took a deep breath, readying his stance, waiting for the other man to make the first move.

With a shout the man lunged, and James caught the blow on his shield, summoning his energy to push back. He stumbled, and James took the opportunity to swing his own sword. It was caught by the other man’s weapon, and the force of the blow shook his arm. James struggled to keep a hold on his blade, and barely managed to block another attack. Gritting his teeth, James lunged, but pulled short, and his opponent lost his balance as he tried to block a strike that didn’t come. James took advantage of the opening, swinging his sword at the man’s leg, hitting it with the flat of the blade. The man dropped to a knee, and James brought his weapon to the man’s throat. Smiling, he helped the man up.

“Switch!” came the call from the Commander.

Later, James found himself sitting in the tavern, using the coin he had received that day to buy ale, talking with the other soldiers around the table. He took a long drink, lowering his mug to answer a question directed at him, when he caught sight of Naomi entering the tavern.

She looked around the room, and when she caught sight of him, made her way toward him, weaving around the tables. James stared. _When was the last time I saw her…?_ It had been weeks, he realized, and guilt swept through him.

She drew nearer, arms crossed over her stomach. James was confused. How many times had he come to the tavern? He had never met her here before. Then she was standing in front of him, giving him a hopeful smile.

“Hey James…” she said in English, glancing around the table before looking back to him.

“Hey,” he responded, and took another drink.

Naomi rocked slightly on her feet, then sighed. “James… could we talk?”

He nodded, looking to Alec, who was sitting next to him, “I’ll be right back.”

The Templar nodded, “Of course,” then he smiled at Naomi. “You should stay awhile. I’ll buy you a drink.” Naomi looked taken aback, then smiled nervously.

“Um… thank you… but I don’t think…” she stumbled, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

“Think about it,” Alec said, smirking and raising an eyebrow. Naomi flushed red.

“James, can we go outside?”

“Right,” he said, standing and following her from the tavern.

Once outside, Naomi turned to him and said, “How are you paying for drinks?”

James bristled, detecting the hint of disapproval in her voice. “I get paid,” he said shortly. Naomi frowned, and he could see her fidgeting with her sleeves. He prepared himself for a lecture.

“So… how are you? How’s training been going?” she asked. _Not what I was expecting…_

James shrugged, “It’s been fine.”

“You’re looking… really strong.” James glanced down at his arms. He had noticed his muscles had grown substantially since he began training, and guessed he was probably stronger than he had ever been in his life. He looked back at Naomi and smirked.

“Yup.”

Naomi frowned again, eyes squinting. _Here it comes…_

“Please James… talk to me.”

Annoyance rose up quickly, followed by anger as he remembered the many lonely nights he had spent, sitting in the healer’s tent while Naomi slept, or cried, or stared at the ceiling. “Now you want to talk? I would have, earlier, but you shut down.”

Naomi flushed, but glared at him, dropping her hands to her hips. “I know, I know… I wanted to apologize, the next day, but you never came back to see me!”

“Well, you’ve been better for a while now, you’ve had plenty of time,” he countered.

 Naomi’s blush deepened, and James felt a stab of satisfaction. “I’ve been busy… and I could never find you…”

James snorted. “Busy? With what? It’s not like you joined the army.”

His sister crossed her arms again, “I’ve been helping mend clothing…” James laughed. _Clothing? She’s been mending clothing? That’s why she’s too busy?_ Naomi let out a huff of air, nostrils flaring. “Don’t laugh,” she said. “I know it’s not as _glamorous_ as fighting with a sword but…”

“Yeah, and how does it help anything?” James interrupted.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?!” she almost yelled, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s not like I know how to do anything else here,” she said more quietly.

James knew she was right, as he remembered he would be stuck shoveling manure in the stables if he hadn’t joined the recruits. But he couldn’t let it go that easily. Then a thought occurred to him, as he pictured the _women_ he had seen training. “You could learn to fight!” Naomi snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’m serious,” he continued. “Things are different here, not like the Middle Ages on Earth. Women fight… and you should know how to fight!” He pictured her lying pale and thin on the cot, shaking with fever, not waking for days. He had thought she was going to die, and realized he couldn’t bear to see her like that again. She should know how to defend herself.

“James, you know I don’t want to fight. How many times did we talk about war back home? You know I don’t like it. And you know what? I’m fine fixing clothing! You realize it means _you_ don’t have to,” she defended, tilting her head slightly and raising her eyebrows, challenging him with her eyes.

James couldn’t help but grin. He recognized that expression. They had transitioned from fighting to debating, and he realized he was no longer angry with her. He and Naomi had always had an easy relationship, as they were the closest in age of their siblings and had spent their early childhood years playing with each other almost exclusively.

No, James was no longer angry. Instead, he found himself glad to be talking with his oldest friend.

He shrugged, opting to end the debate with a simple, “I guess,” and another smirk.

Naomi sighed, dropping her shoulders. “I don’t want to fight with you James. We _can’t_ fight. I know I drew away, and… I’m sorry, okay! It was just… so much…” she drew in a deep breath, a few tears escaping her eyes. “But it’s just you and me now. I just… want you to know I _do_ care, and I just want to know that… you’ll be around...” She smiled at him hopefully, tears shining in her eyes. James looked at his sister, the perfect older sibling who always did everything right, crying in front of him, admitting she had been wrong, coming to him for support. All residual anger gone, James decided that, for now, he would not fight either.

So he nodded and mumbled, “I’m sorry too.” And he was.

Then Naomi’s arms were around his neck. He was startled. Theirs was not a family to hug. But she clung to him tightly, shaking slightly as she cried. He returned the embrace, though not as strongly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I mean… I also wish you weren’t, ‘cause then you’d be home… but… I don’t know what I’d do…” she stifled a sob, then pulled away, wiping her tears away. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking at him and smiling. But then she frowned, pulling close and squinting at his face.

“James… you’re eyes… they have green in them!”

Surprised, James registered that Naomi’s eyes were also green, though the blue was still present around the edges. “You do too,” he said. She opened her eyes wide in surprise, bringing a hand up, as if touching them would allow her to see the change. But before she could respond, a man began yelling from the wall. “The Herald! The Herald has returned!”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_“Don’t look!” Naomi exclaimed as she removed her t-shirt and hung it on a branch hanging over the river. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her friends Jessica and Amy were still looking the other direction._

_“We’re not going to look,” Jessica laughed. She was already stripped and submerged to her neck in the river, working shampoo through her hair._

_“I know, I know,”Noami said, smiling. She removed her bra, putting a hand over her breasts while she placed the garment with her shirt on the branch. Under the water she removed her shorts and underwear, leaving herself completely naked in the river. She and her friends were on a class trip across Nebraska, visiting prairies across the state. They had been camping for the last four days, and had decided they wanted to wash the sweat and grime from their bodies._

_Naomi dunked her head, wetting her hair. “Can you pass me the soap?” she asked, turning to her friends now that she could cover her body with the river’s water._

_“Sure thing,” Amy said. Naomi took the soap and turned back around, standing to rub the suds over her body, then lowering herself to clean her hair. She dunked back under the water, working the soap from the strands. Out of air, she emerged, rubbing the water from her eyes._

“For someone who comes from a society with such advanced technology, you certainly spend a lot of time away from it,” a male voice said.

“Shit!” Naomi exclaimed, lowering her body until her chin brushed the water’s surface. She turned to see Solas standing on the bank, looking at her with the smallest hint of a smile, her friends gone. She glared at him, heart racing and face heating. She crossed her arms over her chest under the water. _I’m dreaming again._ “You can’t just show up like that, with no warning! How long have you been there?”

“There is nothing I have never seen before.”

She blushed even more, not meeting his gaze. “Well, you haven’t seen _me_ before…” she mumbled.

Solas raised an eyebrow, but turned around. “I only just arrived. I apologize for causing you discomfort, but I needed to speak with you.”

Naomi grabbed her clothes from the branch, quickly pulling on her shorts, then the t-shirt over her wet skin. She stepped from the river, ringing the water from her hair. “Couldn’t you speak to me in person?” she asked, her face still red. “You’re back in Haven.”

“I felt discussing your dreams would be easiest while you dreamed,” Solas explained, turning back around. “I could not anticipate what they would be before I arrived.”

She crossed her arms. “You still could’ve given me some warning.”

“Again, I apologize, but it is a matter of some import,” Solas said earnestly.

Naomi sighed. “I understand… so… what is it?”

“Do you remember when we met in the Fade, after your brother died?” Naomi frowned, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. She remembered. Every vivid detail and weary step. The fact that she had utterly failed to save her brother.

“Yes.”

“It should not have been possible. You are not a mage, yet you wandered the Fade for three days, consciously searching for your brother. And you encountered a spirit,” he explained.

“I just did what we had done together… I thought I could find him again,” Naomi said, confused.

“But you did it alone, without me to guide you; that is the key. All people, except for dwarves, dream in the Fade, but non-mages are sheltered while here. They are unaware they are dreaming, and rarely remember what occurs, and spirits cannot reach them, not physically. But mages remain conscious, and can interact with spirits they meet.”

Naomi considered what he told her. It made sense, in a way, that mages would dream differently than non-mages. “Are you saying I dream like a mage? Why does that matter?”

“Not exactly. You retain some defenses around yourself while dreaming, but they are weak. I should have realized it the first time I visiting you; it was easy to enter your dream, much easier than your brother’s. And you have broken free from these defenses yourself, at least once.”

Naomi was troubled at his continued use of the word ‘defenses’. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “Is there something dangerous about dreaming differently?”

Solas turned from the river and began walking toward the trees lining the bank. “Come, there is much to discuss.”

Naomi took a moment to look up at the familiar constellations in the sky. _Can nothing be simple?_ Then she followed after Solas into the night.

After a moment of trudging through the underbrush, dodging fallen trees, Naomi caught up to Solas, the shimmering blue barrier in front of him. She stood next to him.

“What is this? I saw it the day I looked… looked for David.” Solas’ gaze swept over the barrier.

“It is the end of your dream. Beyond is the Fade. Not physically, of course, but a truer representation than the images generated here. Barriers such as this are what protect the minds of non-mages from contact with demons while dreaming.” Naomi nodded.

“I removed it the other night.”

“And that is what should not have been possible. I removed the barrier from your dream when we searched for your brother, but you should not have been able to do so alone.” He frowned, gently bringing a hand to the blue wall. “It is weak, much weaker than any I have encountered. I fear it would not take much for others to invade.” Naomi frowned.

“Why would that be bad?” Solas turned toward her.

“Demons attempt to enter the physical world through dreaming mages. You are not a mage, but if you find yourself outside of your dreams again, you could encounter them.” Naomi rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling cold in her wet clothing, warily peering through the hazy barrier, toward the shapes illuminated by a dim, source-less light. As far as she knew, anything concerning demons was bad, and she avoided watching scary movies alone for a reason.

“Well… that sounds terrifying,” she said. Solas sighed.

“It doesn’t have to be. The Fade can be a wonderful place to explore. I myself have spent countless days roaming the Fade, encountering the memories and wonders there.” Naomi took a step back. That could be true, but at that moment she was too overwhelmed with trying to learn to navigate her waking world, much less this dream realm inhabited by demons.

“I… can’t. Not now,” she said, hugging herself tighter. “For now, if I stay in here, I’ll be safe?” Solas nodded.

“I believe so. But I must stress that you be careful. The inhabitants of the Fade can try and use your emotions to get what they want, but you must not let them. Should you encounter these beings, be wary.” Naomi sighed, but nodded.

“I understand… I think.” Solas smiled.

“That is all I wanted to say. I will leave you now to your friends.” Naomi heard yelling and laughing from the direction of the river, turning her head toward the sound. And when she looked back, Solas was gone. With a sigh she turned to return to the river, intent on enjoying this time with her friends, even as her heart ached to know it was only a figment of memory.


	14. Elfroot and Druffalo

Naomi panted as she climbed the hill, wishing she wasn’t so out of shape. She had been given a ‘personal’ day from the laundry, but had no ‘personal’ matters to attend to. Sitting in her tent had grown boring, and feeling overwhelmed by the constant closeness of unfamiliar people, she had decided to take a walk. She had initially followed the road, but eventually new plants and tracks had pulled her into the woods. When she finally reached the top Naomi stopped, coughing slightly, considering that she may have decided to physically exert herself too soon after her illness. But standing with hands on her hips, catching her breath and appreciating the view, Naomi couldn’t help but smile. The mountains around Haven were tall and covered in snow, the surrounding land scattered with trees that looked like pines. It was beautiful, and Naomi felt her spirits rising, despite her exhaustion.

And she needed it, as she thought about what Solas had told her the night before about her dreams. It was one more thing she had to worry about, in addition to learning the language, the culture, worrying about being discovered, worrying for James…

She turned to the plant that had caught her attention this time, bending down and gently plucking a leaf from the stem. It was pointed, smooth to the touch, and had a slight bluish tint. She wished she could find out what it was, and tucked the leaf into her belt.

Naomi continued through the woods, running her hands through branches as she went. She took a deep breath of the pine-scented air and smiled. She loved spending time outdoors, and had missed taking walks. She was moving downhill, weaving back and forth between the trees, when she noticed they were thinning. She could see a clearing up ahead and moved toward it, rounding a final tree.

And stopped, finding herself face to face with a large, hulking animal. It was almost as tall as she was, with long dark hair, and resembled a bison… or a yak, though its horns pointed downward. Naomi didn’t move, trying to determine what intentions the creature had.

The animal swayed its head slightly back and forth, taking a couple of steps toward her. Naomi stepped back, not taking her eyes from the beast. _Maybe it’s like a cow… they’re harmless… except they can be stupid… and don’t know how big they are…_ The animal continued its advance, Naomi matching each step forward with a step back. _Or it could be like a wild bison… they can definitely be aggressive._ She felt the brushing of branches along her back, and a quick glance behind her showed she had been backed against a tree. Starting to panic, Naomi watched the bison-thing continue to approach, nudging its head closer and closer…

Finally, Naomi snapped, and with a yelp bolted to her right, running as quickly as she could away from the animal, pulling her skirts up out of the way of her feet. But the creature gave a bellow, and Naomi could hear it running after her, its hooves rumbling across the ground. And it was getting closer.

She weaved to the right, dodging into the trees. But the creature turned after her, forcing Naomi to continue her dash through the woods. She couldn’t determine what direction she was going, or which way would bring her toward Haven. And as she continued to run, she could feel her airways starting to constrict, her sides starting to burn. She was out of shape, and wouldn’t be able to keep up her pace much longer. _Shit, it’s going to catch me… shit!_

Truly panicked, the bison-thing only a few steps behind, Naomi frantically looked for an escape. She saw a large tree, with stubs of branches nearly to the ground. With a final sprint, breath ragged in her throat, she circled behind it, forcing the beast to overshoot and turn. In the lull, Naomi scrambled up the branches, hauling her body above the reach of the beast. Blood thumping in her ears, a coughing fit hitting her lungs, Naomi clung to the tree, waiting for the creature to wander off. Instead it began circling the tree, rubbing its head against the trunk and broken branches, bellowing constantly.

Her breath returning, Naomi cursed the animal. “Fucking bison… thing! What the hell? I didn’t do anything to you!” She pulled a pinecone from the tree, hurling it at the beast. Missed.

Groaning, Naomi realized the animal appeared to have no inclination of leaving. Looking around, she was high enough to see Haven in the distance, the Chantry standing out on the hill, and realized she had been running away from the town. She groaned again, then gave a desperate laugh. _Serves you right, wandering off on your own. Obviously not your best idea…_ With a deep breath, she did the only thing that might get her out of the situation.

“Help!”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Nassella turned from Chancellor Roderick and Cullen, irritated with the Chancellor and his stubbornness. _Everyone else seems to accept that I didn’t have anything to do with this… except for him!_

Wanting to clear her head, and get away from the mass of humans, she grabbed her daggers from her cabin, as well as a bag for collecting elfroot. She was exiting Haven’s gates, glaring at the ground, when she ran into a solid body. She stumbled back, starting to fall, when a hand grabbed her back to steady her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up into the green-blue eyes of James. “I was a little distracted.”

James dropped his hands and stepped back, staring at her with wide eyes. “Um… it’s fine…” Then he frowned and turned, walking quickly away, hands clenched into fists. Nassella frowned herself. _That’s strange…_ As she walked toward the woods, her ears began to burn. _Does he have a problem with elves already…? I thought they were different…_

She began to jog, and when she was well away from Haven, searched for the pointed-leaved elfroot plants she had previously seen scattered through the woods. She realized it was the first time she had truly been alone in over a month, since she woke shackled in the Chantry basement, the mark trying to kill her. Sure, she had her little cabin in Haven, but she could always hear people moving around outside, shouting across the town. Then she had gone to the Hinterlands, and the area certainly wasn’t safe enough to be wandering around without at least one other person. It meant that she had gotten to know Solas, Varric, and Cassandra very well over the last few weeks, but it gave her little time to process everything that was happening on her own.

No, this was the first time she had been alone, and she intended to make the most of it. Wandering the hills, collecting herbs, reminded her of home, and she wistfully dreamed of the day when she could return to her clan. She knew it would not be soon, but once the Breach was sealed… the shems wouldn’t need her anymore.

She was approaching a particularly dense patch of the healing plant when she heard the distant bellow of a druffalo. Curious, she made her way toward the sound, stopping to collect leaves as she went. She was drawing near when she heard a second sound join the druffalo. Stopping to hear more clearly, Nassella heard the distinct sound of a woman singing. _Strange…_

Warily she approached, following the sounds of _‘Kan je zingen met alle stemmen van de bergen, kunt u verf met alle kleuren van de wind…?’_ drifting through the trees. Then, “Godver buffel! Laat me met rust!” Nassella recognized the voice, and ran the last few yards.

When she found Naomi, Nassella stopped and burst into laughter. The woman was halfway up a tree, clinging to the trunk like a squirrel and yelling what she could only guess were profanities at the druffalo, which was circling the tree below the human. Strands of hair were coming out of her braid, curled wisps circling her head in wild disarray. And her face began to turn bright red when she heard Nassella.

“Don’t laugh,” Naomi groaned, closing her eyes and hiding her head in her arm. So Nassella laughed harder. But she stopped when she realized the woman had started to cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you! I just don’t see humans in trees very often. Just a moment…” Nassella ran up to the druffalo, giving it a sharp smack on the haunches. It gave a final bellow before running off into the woods. Then she quickly scrambled up the tree, settling on a branch near Naomi.

The woman sniffled, removing her head from her arms and wiping her eyes. “I’m… sorry… I’ve been doing so good at not crying. I just feel so stupid…”

“It’s alright, I think anyone would be scared if they hadn’t seen a druffalo before,” Nassella said, trying to calm the woman.

“Is that what that was? It just kept coming toward me… I didn’t know what to do. But I shouldn’t have been out here alone…” Naomi said sadly, wiping her eyes again. Nassella couldn’t help but agree with the woman. Wandering around alone was not something people did, unless they were confident they could defend themselves.

“Why did you come out here anyway?” she asked.

“Oh… I just wanted to get away…”

Nassella could tell the woman was troubled, and she couldn’t blame her, understanding her need for solitude. Torn from her home, her brother dead… “I’m sorry about your brother…” Naomi made a sound in the back of her throat, but stifled it, “…Is there anything I can do?”

Naomi laughed, a strange, strangled thing. “No… no. I’m fine…”

Nassella didn’t believe her for a moment. “Naomi, you have a right to be upset.”

“No. When I was upset I almost…” she trailed off and looked away, toward Haven. “I’m done being upset. I’ll be fine.”

Nassella resisted the urge to laugh again. She had just spent _weeks_ in the Hinterlands, running trivial errands for its refugees and residents. _It’s not that I don’t feel bad for them, or dislike helping… and their lives have been disrupted by the mages and Templars, and the Conclave was terrible… but if it wasn’t for the Breach…_ Nassella knew she would have returned to the Free Marches and her clan weeks ago. This was primarily a conflict between the shems, and she was pulled into it by circumstances beyond her control. And Naomi may be a human, but she had even less control over being here than Nassella. _If anyone deserves my help, it’s her…_

“Naomi, look at me.” The brunette woman did, after a moment, blue-green eyes still shining slightly. “I know you’re not fine, and no one would expect you to be, not yet. I want you to tell me, right now, everything that’s troubling, scaring, or making you sad.” Nassella watched Naomi’s face, as she shook her head, tried to put up walls and close herself off. She gave the other woman a small, encouraging smile, and could see the moment when she cracked. Then the flood came, a stream of hurts and fears that she had likely been holding back for weeks.

Nassella listened patiently as Naomi spoke. Her worries were varied. Some, such as her continued hesitation to use the less-than-private latrines, were trivial, but others, like the feeling of drowning in a sea of new customs, were eerily similar to her own. She listened as Naomi talked about her grief for her brother, and for her parents and sister left behind, and the fact that they were mourning as well. She told of her sickness and refusal to eat, how ashamed she was of her behavior. That she had fought with her brother, and only made up with him the day before, but he was already making friends, and didn’t know if he would be around for her. That she was terrified of being discovered, and didn’t know how to make connections with anybody, afraid she would be caught in a lie. She spoke of her fears for the future, that she didn’t know how long her and her brother would be allowed to stay with the Inquisition, and that she wouldn’t be able to support herself when they were turned out. That she felt useless. She wished she knew the names of the plants and animals around her, pulling elfroot leaves from her belt for Nassella to identify. Then she talked about her home, about the things she would never experience, the foods she would never again eat, the people she would never see. Nassella didn’t understand half of what she said, but she understood the longing for familiar things.

“And I just want to brush my teeth!” Naomi finished, tears streaming down her cheeks. Then she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry… I… can’t believe I told you all of that. I know everyone here has had their lives messed up… and James seems to be moving on. I can too. I don’t want to complain. I’ll be fine.”

Nassella watched as Naomi wiped the tears from her cheeks, taking deep breaths to calm herself, and felt a wave of empathy. She decided that if she could spend a day tracking down a lost druffalo in the Hinterlands, she could work to relieve some of Naomi’s fears.

“Yes, you will be,” Nassella said gently, “and I’m going to help you.” Naomi looked at her with surprise.

“No, you don’t need to…”

“I w _ant_ to, Naomi.” The human blushed. “I may not be able to bring back your brother, or make you ‘pizza’, but I can answer questions you have, and ask Varric or Solas or Cullen to answer the ones I can’t. I’ll see if Josephine will give you lessons on Thedas history and culture. I can promise you that you can stay with the Inquisition for as long as it exists. I’ll listen if you ever want to talk about your home,” she said, smiling at Naomi, pleased when the woman gave her a small smile back. “And, I can show you how to clean your teeth.” That got another smile.

“Thank you,” Naomi whispered. Nassella beamed. Then, looking at the sun, she started climbing from the tree.

“It’s getting late. I’m surprised Cullen hasn’t sent a search party after me,” she said as she swung from the branches to the ground. She looked up to see Naomi carefully making her own way from the tree, struggling slightly in her skirts. When she too was on the ground she brushed the needles from her clothes. “First thing we’ll do back in Haven is get you a pair of breeches and a tunic. That will make walking through the woods easier in the future.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be coming back out here,” Naomi said, glancing back up at the tree. “It didn’t really go well this time.” The disappointment was plain in her voice.

“Well, that’s because you were alone. But we can come together in the future. I could use help collecting plants.” Naomi smiled brightly at her, the last traces of her tears disappearing.

As they walked through the woods back to Haven, Nassella pointed out and named some of the plants and animals she recognized for Naomi. The human smiled at each new thing she learned, and whispered the new names under her breath when they encountered them again.

“It’s so strange,” she said at one point. “Some things, like humans and horses, and these pine trees, look just like what we have at home. But other things, like that druffalo, are completely new. I can’t make sense of it!”

They eventually grew silent, continuing on in companionable silence. But as they approached the camp Naomi spoke again, almost in a whisper.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, her gaze turned to the ground.

Nassella took a few more steps before she answered. “I may not like being called the Herald of Andraste, but it means that I can help... and I like that. But it’s not just that. When we first met, I said we were both out of our element. And it’s true. I’ve never been around this many humans before, and, I know it’s not the same, but I’ve had to adjust to being here as well. Since I met you, you haven’t treated me like I’m an elf or the Herald… I can relax around you. I think we can help each other.” Then she shrugged, “And I like you.” She smirked at Naomi, who was also smiling, though still staring at the ground. Then Nassella caught sight of Cullen approaching from the corner of her eye.

“Herald,” he said when he drew near, “there you are. The orders have been sent to the Hinterlands to build the watchtowers.” Then he looked at Naomi and raised his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

Naomi blushed, looking down at her clothes to brush the remaining splinters and needles from the fabric, unaware that her hair was similarly filled with debris. “Um, yes… well…”

Nassella grinned, trying not to laugh again. “She got chased up a tree by a druffalo.” Naomi shot her a glare, which immediately transformed into a grin, her face still red, and she refused to look at the Commander. Cullen, for his part, looked equal parts confused and concerned.

“You were chased… what?” he said, shaking his head.

Nassella’s laugh finally burst through, and Naomi groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Don’t worry, I saved the day. But I can tell you _all_ about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kan je zingen met alle stemmen van de bergen, kunt je verven met alle kleuren van de wind…? = Can you sing with all the voices of the montain, can you paint with all the colors of the wind? (Colors of the Wind, maybe the right translation?)
> 
> Godver buffel! Laat me met rust! = God damn buffalo! Leave me alone!


	15. History Lesson

Naomi stared at the map, trying to process everything Josephine had just told her. The talk of elves, dwarves, Blights, the Chantry, the mage rebellion, the civil war in Orlais, the Tevinter Imperium… It was overwhelming.

“That was the short history?” she asked, voice slightly hollow. She looked at her brother with wide eyes. James’ brow was furrowed as he also studied the map, jaw working back and forth while he concentrated.

Josephine gave a small laugh. “It is quite a lot, isn’t it, when told all at once? And I have barely scratched the surface of many of the complexities. But it will give you somewhere to start. Do you have any questions?”

“So, there are elves, humans, dwarves… and Qunari?” James asked.

“Yes. They are a race of tall, horned people, originally from the north. They are uncommon this far south,” Josephine patiently explained.

“Sweet,” James said, a stupid grin on his face. Naomi rolled her eyes. _Of course he would think this is cool..._ While she found the lesson interesting, she was more concerned with the Blights and Darkspawn than the fact that there were apparently people with horns here. Well, that, and the dragons, famines, chronic unrest, slavery…

“Elves are really slaves in Tevinter?” she asked Josephine.

The Ambassador sighed. “Yes. And unfortunately, they are not treated much better elsewhere.” Naomi frowned. She was beginning to understand why Nassella had said she wanted to spend more time with her. Finding someone with no preconceived notions or prejudices would likely be welcome, but now that she realized this, she was worried she would disappoint the elf.

_No. You’re not like that. You’ve always been more accepting than the people you grew up with… and that won’t change here._

A soft knock sounded from the door and a servant stuck her head in. “Ambassador, Chancellor Roderick is in your office. He wishes to speak with you,” she said nervously.

“Of course, tell him I will be right there,” Josephine said. When the servant was gone, she gave James and Naomi a small smile. “I’m afraid I must leave, there is much to do. I hope I have been some help to you.”

Naomi nodded. “Yes, you have. Thank you.” Josephine smiled and inclined her head.

“I must admit, I would be interested to learn more of your world as well,” she said. “The little I have heard sounds fascinating.”

Naomi raised her eyebrows. “Oh, of course.” James held the door as the exited the room, and once they were in the main hall of the Chantry, Josephine bid them farewell. As the dark-haired woman disappeared into her office, Naomi turned to James.

“And I thought Earth’s history was complicated.”

“It’s pretty awesome!” James said, still grinning. They walked through the Chantry, steps echoing off of the stone arches.

“How can you be so happy? They basically have a zombie outbreak every couple of centuries! How is that awesome?” Naomi asked. She knew her brother liked adventure, but this was something else entirely.

“Yeah, and the last one just ended. It’s not like we’re going to be alive for the next one.”

Naomi snorted. “Not necessarily.” But she desperately wished it would be true.

“Come on. You have to admit that magic, dwarves… dragons! It’s so much more exciting than our world.”

“Yeah, and a lot more dangerous,” she said, a little hurt that he seemed to so easily let go of where they came from.

“It’s not that much more dangerous than guns or nuclear weapons.” _Dammit, he’s right._

“Don’t you miss home? Miss Mom and Dad?” she said, trying to get an emotional response from her brother.

James shrugged. “I miss showering every day. But I hardly ever saw Mom and Dad… it’s really not that much different.” Naomi studied her brother. He didn’t seem that upset, but she looked for a hint that anything was bothering him. _Not that I expect him to tell me if something did…_

They were outside and walking past a campfire when a musical voice called out to them. “Naomi! James!” The siblings turned to see Nassella standing next to Varric, the slender elf beckoning for them to approach. Naomi smiled, glancing at James, surprised to see him frowning, face turning slightly pink. Then she remembered. _Right… she looks like Makenzie. I should have realized sooner… so something is bothering him…_

She gave her brother a sympathetic smile, but he didn’t see, as he was staring at Nassella. But he followed her toward the fire, and if Nassella noticed James’ discomfort, she hid it well. “Varric and I were going to get something to eat, and a drink. You should come.”

Naomi smiled. “Yes, that would be—“

“I don’t think—“ James said at the same time, starting to back away.

“Oh come on,” Varric chuckled. “We won’t bite. Though Nassella here might sting you with her blades.” Nassella raised an eyebrow.

“You’re one to talk Varric. Bianca does her fair share of stinging.”

Varric chuckled, a deep, gravely thing, patting the crossbow strapped to his back. “That she does. So what do you say Westerkamps, you coming?”

Naomi nodded, looking pointedly at James. “Yes, we’ll come.” _He’s not getting out of this so easily…_ Her brother frowned, but followed.

James was uncharacteristically quiet as they ate in the tavern, only answering questions directed specifically to him. He didn’t even have comments when Naomi described football and hockey. She kept glancing at her brother throughout the meal, expecting him to interrupt and correct her. But she could tell he wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere.

Varric and Nassella, for their parts, were insatiable with their curiosity, always following each answer with another question. Varric was especially interested in the technology of her world, leaning forward excitedly while Naomi described computers.

“You’re saying you can write things… without quill and paper? And look up information that is not in books?”

Naomi laughed at his enthusiasm. “Yes… I’m sure it seems crazy, but it’s all true.”

Varric sat back and drank deeply from his mug. “And you can stand to live in a place like Ferelden?”

“Well,” Naomi said, giving Varric a small grin, “other than not having a choice, I don’t mind not having those things. I’ve spent time living out of tents before.” Naomi took a gulp from her own drink, eyes misting over. “It’s people I mostly miss.”’

Nassella gave her a small, sad smile. “Do you want to talk about them?” Naomi frowned. She hadn’t talked about her family and friends in detail yet. It still hurt, to think about them, and she felt her throat start to tighten with threatened tears. But before she could say anything, James stood from his chair and made his way to the door without a word.

“Is he alright?” Varric asked, drinking more from his mug.

“He acted strangely when I ran into him a couple of days ago as well. He could hardly look at me! And other times he just stares.” Nassella said, clearly confused. “Does he dislike elves already?”

Naomi realized there was no way Nassella would know what was really bothering her brother.“No, it’s not that. He is actually really excited there are elves here... It’s just… Nassella, you look a lot like the woman he loved back home,” she explained. “I should have realized sooner, but it’s probably why he’s been so on edge… and why he’s been drinking…”

Nassella turned a pretty shade of pink. “Oh. I see. And he thinks of her every time he sees me…” She chewed her bottom lip before taking a sip of her ale. Then she turned to Naomi. “What about you? Did you leave someone behind?”

“Um, no, I didn’t lose someone like that. Just friends… and family…” They sat in silence, the others at the table apparently sensing that she wasn’t ready to discuss further. But then Varric cleared his throat.

“How close is the resemblance? I’m assuming this girl of his didn’t have vallaslin?” he asked, leaning back over the table.

Naomi thought about Nassella and Makenzie, glad for the distraction. Their coloring was similar, as well as their features, but they were definitely different people. “No, she didn’t have vallaslin, and she was human of course. But you could almost be siblings, your features are so similar, and you’re short and slender like her. But, her eyes were brown, not green. Other than that you’re not like her at all. Makenzie is very… girly. She would never go hunting or fight with daggers. And you are much louder than she ever was,” she said, smirking at Nassella. The elf huffed, but smiled herself.

“Well, you have to spend some time with James so he sees that you’re not like this Makenzie. Otherwise, he’s just going to watch you from a distance and think of her,” Varric said.

“Of course!” Nassella exclaimed. “Though, it will have to wait, since we’re leaving early tomorrow...” Then she smirked at the dwarf. “When did you get so smart, Varric?”

The dwarf laughed, finishing his drink. “I have my moments.” Then he stood and headed toward the bar. “I’m going to get another round. Then Naomi, you’re going to tell us more about this ‘television’ and its moving pictures.”

Nassella was quiet while Varric was at the bar, and Naomi watched the elf’s expression as she frowned, then pursed her lips, then glanced at Naomi from the corner of her eye. “Naomi,” she finally said, “I have an idea to help your brother, but I want to make sure its fine with you first.”

Naomi raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’m sure it will be fine, whatever it is.” Varric returned with new mugs of ale and passed them around, then Nassella turned back to Naomi.

“Just hear what the idea is first. But you might like it too. It would give you something more to do…”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

_“Come on. Come on!” James yelled, standing up from the couch as the receiver ran toward the endzone. He pumped his fists as the player pulled away from the player chasing him. “Come on… Yes!” he yelled, clapping his hands and jumping around the room. “We’re going to the Super Bowl!” He turned and smiled at Makenzie sitting on the couch, watching him with her own amused grin. She stood and crossed the room to give him a hug. James couldn’t stop grinning, and bent to give his girlfriend a quick kiss._

_When he pulled back, Makenzie’s smile had turned more suggestive. “I like it when the Broncos win… you’re always in a better mood afterward.” She pulled his head down again, her kisses lingering, and the excitement James felt toward the outcome of the game turned toward the woman before him. James brought his hands to her hips, holding her body close to his. She flicked her tongue across his lips, and James smiled. Makenzie laughed, pulling away, and started to back up, James guiding her to the couch. She laid down on the cushions and James settled himself over her, bringing his lips back to hers. As her hands ran through his hair, James eased his own hand beneath her shirt, running his thumb along the softness of her skin as he sought the swell of her breasts. Makenzie giggled, breaking their kiss. James grinned and opened his eyes to look at her, but caught his breath when, instead of chocolate brown, he was looking into forest green._

_He pulled away, hovering over Makenzie’s body. Except, it was no longer his girlfriend. Purple branches covered her face, and her ears extended into long points. She frowned. “James, what’s wrong?” But it was Nassella’s musical voice that crossed her lips._

_James stood, stumbling backwards across the room. The elf sat up on the couch, worried expression growing. “James, are you okay?” Then she stood, following him across the room._

_“No,” James said hoarsely. “You’re not her.”_

_“What are you talking about?” Nassella asked, confused. “Come back to the couch.” He was backed against the door, but the elf kept approaching, smiling again. She reached him and snaked her arms around his waist, pulling herself close…_

 

\-----

 

James sat up in his cot, breathing heavily and sweating slightly, realizing he was half-hard under the blankets. He flushed, trying to subdue his arousal. Lying back down, he stared at the ceiling, feeling hollow and confused.

He was trying to let go of Makenzie. He knew it was foolish to hold onto the hope that he would see her again, but some part of him would not listen to logic. And then there was Nassella. He couldn’t help but feel attracted to the elf, and every time he saw her he felt guilty for it.

Heart still racing, James got up, dressing quickly, grabbing his practice sword and exiting the tent. It was still early, the sky only beginning to lighten in the east, but he made his way to the line of practice dummies at the edge of the camp, standing in front of the last one while he collected his thoughts.

_I need to move on. She’s gone._ He closed his eyes and pictured Makenzie’s face, then tried to erase it from his mind. But then it morphed into Nassella, and his heart wrenched. He opened his eyes, lunging toward the dummy, striking the straw filled figure with as much force as he could muster. He swung again, and again, and again, until sweat ran down his back and into his eyes. He hit the dummy until his breath was short, and then a bad swing jolted his arms, and he dropped the sword in shock. He bent over, placing his hands on his knees while he caught his breath.

“Your technique is terrible.”

James looked up to see Cassandra standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, a disapproving look on her face. He stood, wiping the moisture from his eyes. “I wasn’t really trying,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed.

“You should always try. You cannot afford to develop bad habits,” Cassandra said.

James struggled to be polite. The soldiers treated the warrior with respect, and he knew he should as well. But he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “I can do it better.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Show me.” James’ heart thumped in his chest, but he stooped to pick up his dropped sword. Taking a deep breath, he faced the dummy one last time. _Don’t embarrass yourself._ And then he moved, going through the forms he had learned over the last few weeks. Now that he had an audience his head was clearer, and he focused all of his anger and frustration into impressing the warrior.

Eventually, he could go no longer, and he pulled away from the dummy and lowered his sword. His arms stung slightly, but the feeling quickly passed. Much quicker than his breath returned. He looked back to Cassandra and was pleased when she gave a small nod.

“It was… better, though your accuracy could be improved. In battle, every blow must count. You should also keep your tongue in your mouth. You’ll bite it off otherwise.”

James stood up straighter, running his tongue across his lips, and nodded to the Seeker. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cassandra nodded back, but made no move to leave. Instead, she studied his face for a moment longer, intense hazel eyes fixated on him. James returned the gaze, waiting for her to speak… or move on.

“You did not sleep well,” she said.

James shrugged. “I had a bad dream about… someone.” The sun was rising above the horizon and he could see people emerging from their tents behind Cassandra. The call for the watch change would sound soon, and then training would begin for the day. James felt exhausted, as if he had already trained a full day in the few minutes before sunrise. _Well today is going to suck…_

Cassandra nodded, a flash of sympathy crossing her strong features. “Your brother. I am sorry for your loss.” The reminder of his brother brought a lump to James’ throat, but he cleared it away. He had been working to not think of his family and friends left behind, but seeing his sister more often and the presence of Nassella was complicating that strategy.

“It was actually someone from back home,” he said, not completely sure why he was divulging that information to Cassandra. The warrior nodded, as if in understanding.

“The Breach disrupted many relationships.” A bell tolled, marking the beginning of the day. Cassandra glanced over her shoulder, toward the rapidly waking camp, then turned back to James. “I was sent to fetch you. Come, there is much to prepare before we depart.”

She started to walk away but James didn’t move. “Sorry… what?”

Cassandra stopped and turned back, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I am confused as well. The Herald has requested you come with us to Val Royeaux.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change Nassella’s eye color from brown to a dark, forest green.


	16. Conversations

Naomi stood on the wall, watching the five figures retreating on the road in the distance, until they were lost behind the trees. It was already growing hot, a warm breeze blowing from the north, though it was hours before the zenith, and she finally began to believe that it was the beginning of summer.

Nassella had asked her the night before if she would be alright without her brother for a few weeks, and she had assured the other woman she was. But now that he was really gone, Naomi was beginning to question whether that would be true. _You’ll be fine. You don’t see him that often anyway…_ Except they had just started talking again, and she had hoped things would have changed.

 _But part of the reason he’s going is to get away from those men he always drinks with… and to hopefully get over the whole Nassella-looking-like-Makenzie thing._ Keeping him here would be selfish on her part, though she felt slightly guilty that they were manipulating her brother. But, he wouldn’t listen or talk about things like this. Actions were necessary.

Naomi heard footsteps along the wall, and looked over to see Cullen approaching from the stairs. Thinking he would walk past, she moved further to the side of the walkway, but was surprised when he stopped a few steps away, nodding to her in greeting. Her heart rate immediately increased.

“He will be fine,” Cullen said, glancing out toward the road and the direction her brother had gone. “He is with capable and accomplished fighters.” _I’m not worried they won’t be able to protect him. I’m worried he’ll do something stupid on his own._ But Cullen didn’t need to hear her doubts.

Naomi cleared her throat. “I know, it’s just... it’s not like home…” She tried to make eye contact with the Commander, but had to look away after a few seconds. _He’s so attractive… great. No! You can talk to people, it’s not a big deal. Even really handsome people… who help you when you’re sick…_

“There was surely war… or criminals,” Cullen said, brows pulled slightly together.

“Well… yes, there was. And they are… really terrible actually. Just… not where we lived. The most dangerous things we really had to worry about were… tornadoes,” she said with an awkward laugh. But she stifled it. _Tornadoes are not funny…_

“I’m afraid I don’t know what those are,” Cullen replied, lifting one corner of his mouth into a smirk.

“I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t. A tornado is… during a storm, when the clouds reach to the ground and spin,” she explained, using her hand to demonstrate the rotation of a tornado. _Well that was smooth…_ she thought, crossing her arms to keep herself from further embarrassment.

“Ah, yes, I have heard of those. They are very rare,” Cullen said, nodding in recognition.

“Well, we would have many every year, and they sometimes destroyed whole towns.” Cullen’s brows raised in surprise. “But not very often,” she quickly added. _Tornadoes are not really something we had to worry about… not really._  “No, we grew up in one of the safest places we could have…” _And took it for granted…_

“What was the name of your home again?” he asked. Naomi looked at him in surprise, unsure of why he was asking, and still unsure of why he was speaking with her.

“Um, the country was the Unites States of America – it’s a long name, I know. We usually just said the U.S. – in Nebraska, which is one region in the country, in a small town called Seward.” She smiled as she pictured her neighborhood and elementary school, the downtown square… “I had moved away for more school though,” she continued, “and hadn’t lived there for a few years.” Cullen gave her a sympathetic nod.

“I imagine you miss it.”

“Yes,” she said, looking at the camp below, wishing she didn’t have a reason for people to always be feeling sorry for her, and looked for a way to divert the conversation. “What about you… where are you from?” she asked, carefully keeping her voice under control, forcing herself to look at Cullen’s eyes.

“Oh,” he said, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “I grew up in Ferelden, not too far from here actually, near Honnleath. But I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight… this is the first I’ve returned in almost ten years.” _Ten years… I wonder how old he is... Stop. Not important._

“Transferred?” she asked instead.

“I served as a Templar in Ferelden’s Circle before and during the Blight, and then was sent to Kirkwall’s Circle.” Naomi tried to remember what Josephine had told her about Templars, and what she had heard others say around the camp. They had anti-magic abilities, guarded mages in Circles, fought demons…

“The Templars are part of the Chantry, right?” _I wonder if they’re like the Mothers and don’t marry… Again, not important._

Cullen nodded, “Yes, the Order is affiliated… or they used to be, until recently.” _Josephine talked about that… the Chantry explosion… something about red lymer… laria… lyrium! And a Meredith… the Templars breaking away…_

“I heard a little about what happened in Kirkwall from Josephine. It sounds like it was bad.” _And horrible and terrifying and terrible…_

“Yes,” Cullen said, looking down at the troops. “While I was there, Qunari occupied and then attacked the city. The Viscount’s murder caused political unrest. Relations between mages and Templars fell apart, an apostate blew up the Chantry, and the Knight-Commander went mad. But other than that, it was fine,” he said wryly. Naomi smirked, at the fact that he could joke, after witnessing all that.

There was a lull in their conversation, and Naomi waited for Cullen to either leave, or reveal why he had approached in the first place. She studied him with quick glances, not trusting herself to look at him too long. His hair was glinting golden in the sun, his amber eyes reflecting the same light. His features were almost ridiculously handsome, the only flaw a scar that cut through his lip, but rather than detracting, it added to his appeal. When one of her glances found her eyes meeting his, she blushed and quickly cleared her throat. “Was there something you needed…?”

“Uh, no,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure you were not worried about your brother. And the Herald asked that I check that you are comfortable, now that James is gone.” Naomi frowned. She knew Nassella and Cullen were just trying to help, but she was beginning to feel uneasy with others taking care of her, and that she was in a situation where she needed it. She was used to taking care of and relying on herself, uncomfortable when others did things for her. While she appreciated the assistance that had already been given to her, she wanted nothing more than to be in a situation where she would no longer need it.

She tried to smile. “Thank you, but I will be alright. It’s only a few weeks. I really don’t… need anyone checking on me.”

“Of course!” Cullen said. “I was not suggesting… the Herald was just concerned...” Naomi smiled more genuinely, something made easier by Cullen’s slight discomfort.

“I understand… but I will be fine.” Cullen nodded, glancing back at the troops before clearing his throat.

“I have to get back to the troops. But if you do need anything, do not hesitate to ask.” Naomi watched him leave, blushing slightly. _He’s nice… can’t believe I was ever scared of him... I wonder if he’s married…_ She groaned inwardly. _Nope. Stop thinking like that…_ She took one more glance down the road, then followed Cullen’s lead, already late for her shift at the laundry.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Nassella stirred the pot bubbling over the fire, steam rising from the stew in lazy curls. Bringing the spoon to her mouth, she took a taste of her handiwork and added a pinch of salt. Finding the meat still undercooked, she picked up her blade and a whetstone, running the device over the knife to return the edge to its razor sharpness.

She looked up when Varric sat down next to her with a huff. “The food isn’t ready yet? I’m not sure how much longer I can wait Bumblebee.” Nassella laughed. It was the worst nickname yet.

“Bumblebee? Come on Varric, you’re going to have to try harder than that,” she said when her laughter had subsided. Varric picked up the spoon to check on the food.

“It wasn’t that bad. The way you buzz around the battlefield… oh never mind. Finding the right nickname is a delicate process, and takes time,” he defended.

Nassella laughed again. “You gave Solas his nickname within a few days of knowing him.”

Varric sniffed, sitting back on a log. “That was a special case.” Nassella just smiled and shook her head. Solas was certainly serious, but he was also witty and fascinating. She felt her face heat slightly as she thought about the tall elf. He was not like the men from her clan. He was educated and well-traveled, and though they often disagreed about the Dalish, he had extensive knowledge of Arlathan and the Elvhenan. She could not ask him enough questions, and found herself asking more than she ever had before. Not that she had ever been short of questions.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a shout from the edge of camp, and glanced over to see James had been thrown to the ground, yet again, by Cassandra. The man slowly stood back up, retrieving his dropped sword. But he rolled his shoulders and prepared himself for another go with the warrior.

“That kid really didn’t know what he was getting into when he agreed to train with the Seeker,” Varric observed.

“Well, he doesn’t really have another option out here,” Nassella said, checking the food again, adding another log to the fire. _Another few minutes or so…_

“How did you convince your advisors that bringing him along was a good idea again?” the dwarf asked, watching the two humans as they sparred. Nassella looked up just in time to see James drop his sword and grab his arm with a curse.

She grinned. “Well, Leliana’s always going on about writing confidential field reports. I just suggested that we could take advantage of having two people with a completely foreign language for just that. They agreed to a trial run.” Another shout from the warrior and the recruit. “I’ll admit I did not anticipate that he would be beat up by Cassandra every night.”

“It’ll be good for him,” Varric said with a smirk. “So how do you think the plan to make him forget his lady love is going?”

Nassella sighed. “I’m not trying to make him forget, I just don’t want him to think I’m her. And you know as well as I do. He hardly talks to me!”

“You don’t have to become friends. As long as you keep talking, he’ll figure it out.” Nassella knew Varric was right, but wished the human man would talk back. She liked his sister, and anticipated that she would like him as well, if only he would open up. He talked easily enough with Varric and Solas when she was not around, but the moment she approached he would close off. It was frustrating that he was not responding to her attempts at friendship.

She checked the stew one last time and moved the pot away from the flames. “Food’s ready!” she yelled, scooping out a bowl for Varric, then another for herself. Solas appeared from the trees surrounding the camp, striding confidently toward the flames. Nassella felt her heart rate pick up slightly as he took his own serving from the pot, taking a seat next to her.

“I finished setting the wards,” he said before taking his first bite. Cassandra and James approached from their sparring, the latter with a slight limp. They settled around the fire with their own food, James on the opposite side of the fire as Nassella. She watched the man for a few minutes as he silently ate his food. She had no reason to believe that he would respond to a conversation, but she was determined to try. _People get along with me… and he will too!_

“How’s the training going?” she asked, making a point to look at James for an answer. But the man just shrugged, leaving Cassandra to answer her question.

“James is not terrible, but it is still evident that he is a beginner. He does show promise, however.”

Nassella smiled at James. “I’m glad to hear it. Are you enjoying the training?” James shrugged again, and Nassella’s smile became strained, but after a few seconds he answered.

“Yes, I have.” _Alright, that’s a start…_

But he didn’t continue, and they sat in silence for a few moments, everyone focusing on their meals. Nassella shot Varric a look, begging for help with her eyes.

The rogue winked at her. “So Nassella, do you have any family back in the Free Marches?” She shot him a grateful smile before answering. _Right, talk about myself…_

“Yes. My father died in a hunting accident when I was very young, but my mother is there, as well as my younger sister Aralia. My mother taught me everything I know about hunting. Aralia just got her vallaslin before I left and is the Second to our Keeper. She begged to come with me to the Conclave, but I’m glad now our Keeper wouldn’t let her come.” Talking about them, she realized how much she missed them. But she knew that if she wanted to keep her clan safe, she had to stay and see the Breach closed. They would be there when the work was finished.

She had barely finished talking when James stood up, rinsing his bowl with a splash of water. “I’m going to go wash up,” he said, nodding to everyone around the fire, but avoiding meeting Nassella’s gaze. She dejectedly finished her own food, staring at the fire between bites. _Well, this doesn’t seem to be working…_

Cassandra was the next to leave, and when she had disappeared into their shared tent, Solas turned to Nassella, speaking with voice low, voice curious, though possessing a slightly strained edge she couldn’t quite understand. “Was there more to your motivation to bring James than simply sending letters?” Nassella blushed. She hadn’t actually revealed to anyone other than Varric and Naomi the primary reason for bringing James to Val Royeaux. She actually liked the idea of using Naomi and James for secret correspondence, once she thought of it, but felt slightly guilty that it was only the secondary reason. But very little got past the older elf, and she didn’t actually want to keep secrets.

“Yes, there was,” she said quietly. “It turns out he was in love with a woman in his world that looked like me, to the point that Naomi believed it was causing him pain to see me. I, well, Varric suggested that if he got to know me, it would help him. And since I won’t be around Haven that often, I thought I would bring him along.” Solas furrowed his brows. “I really do like the letter idea though, and think it will be useful.”

Solas was nodding. “I see. When I visited his dream, I recall seeing a glimpse of a woman that did look remarkably like you. I thought little of it at the time, but I should have considered the possible implications.” He sounded… relieved, in a way, though the edge was still present. Nassella raised her eyebrows and shot Varric a glance. But the dwarf was serving himself a second bowl of stew, and did not seem to have picked up on the subtleties of Solas’ response.

“It hasn’t been going very well though,” she continued, glancing around to make sure James was still out of sight. Still, she pitched her voice slightly lower. “He won’t say more than two words to me, and actively tries to ignore me.”

“I would not be too concerned,” Solas said, standing from his seat. “Given enough time, he will move on.” Then he bid them goodnight and retired to his tent.

Nassella sighed, watching the flames of the fire as they were reduced to glowing embers. She was not an impatient person, she couldn’t be as a hunter. But she had expected results faster with James. _It’s only been a couple of days,_ she reminded herself. _There is the rest of the time to Val Royeaux, and then the return journey. Plenty of time to show him that I’m not this other woman…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from the game used, property of Bioware.


	17. Just Like Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mildly graphic violence ahead.

James followed Nassella, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas down the road, staring at the statues that lined the way. He didn’t know what he had expected from Val Royeaux, but it was exceeding those he had. He thought this world was like the Middle Ages, with castles, huts, and poor towns. But Val Royeaux was clean and impressive, the architecture beautiful, more like the Renaissance than he had expected. He wished he could explore, but there was a group of angry Chantry clerics and Templars waiting to meet them.

“Stay near me and do as I say,” Cassandra said as they walked. James turned from the statues to nod at the warrior. “Hopefully it will not come to conflict, but we must be prepared.” Nassella turned around briefly, green eyes flashing.

“I’m sorry for putting you in danger. We did not expect to be met like this.” She frowned slightly and chewed her bottom lip. “Your sister will kill me if something happens to you,” she muttered before turning back around.

James rolled his eyes. _Of course Naomi would worry…_

But he was slightly worried himself, he realized, his heart rate picking up as they neared the next set of gates. He wasn’t sure what he would do if it came to conflict, and gripped the pommel of his sword nervously.

A crowd was gathered at the far end of the plaza, and as the approached, a woman dressed in Chantry garb addressed those gathered.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine, her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!” she said, looking straight at Nassella, who was standing next to him. James looked to her, watching as she crossed her arms and glared at the woman.

“For the gods’ sake…” she muttered.

“Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say she is a false prophet!” the woman continued, the crowd suddenly moving up a notch in volume. James tensed, ready to defend Nassella if need be.

“As if they alone can speak for the Maker,” Nassella said under her breath, before taking a step forward. “Look up in the sky!” she said, “I alone survived the Breach… and I can end it!”

“It’s true!” Cassandra added. “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!” The crowd’s volume continued to swell, and James looked around nervously, uneasy that nearly every person in the plaza was wearing a mask.

“It is already too late!” the Chantry cleric yelled, pointing to a group of men clad in Templar army approaching. James gripped his sword. _This could be it…_

But it turned out his fears were unfounded, as the group of Templars walked across the courtyard, leaving behind a stunned Chantry cleric, and an equally stunned Cassandra.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucias gone mad?!” she said, shaking her head. James had to agree. He didn’t know this Lord Seeker, but he had never seen a grown man support the punching an elderly woman before, no matter the circumstances.

“Do you know him very well?” Nassella asked the Seeker.

“He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert’s death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding. This is very bizarre,” Cassandra replied.

Nassella pursed her lips. “Do you think he can be reasoned with?”

“I hope so. If not him, there are surely others in the Order who don’t feel as he does,” Cassandra said.

“There are a few Templars in Haven already,” James contributed, “so you already know they don’t all feel that way.”

“That’s true,” Nassella said thoughtfully, before smiling at him. James looked away quickly. It had been a difficult week of travel, and it was because of the elven woman. She was always riding next to him, asking questions and trying to talk. He had not slept well, his nights punctured by dreams of Makenzie and Nassella. He was assaulted at all times by reminders of home and his family. The stress was taking its toll, and he could not relax with an ale has he had in Haven. He wanted to help the Inquisition, but he had not anticipated that joining the army would put him into such close proximity with the Herald.

As Nassella talked to the assaulted cleric, he thought of what he had learned of the woman over the course of their travels. She joked readily with Varric, grilled Cassandra for battle techniques, and had long conversations with Solas as they rode. Her life had been spent living in the forests of the Free Marches, hunting for her clan. She laughed easily and had an uncanny ability to remember details, no matter how small. She was tough and not afraid of hard work. And her nose crinkled when she laughed, just like Makenzie’s.

Nassella sighed as she turned from the cleric, rubbing her temple. “Alright, we need to get word back to Haven as soon as possible. James, get your writing hand ready.” And then a smirk that wrenched his heart.

“We should find an inn to stay in for the night,” Cassandra said. “It is too late to make much progress on the road.”

“You’ll have to lead the way Cassandra, I’m afraid I don’t know my way around.”

They were walking across the courtyard when an arrow thudded into the ground in front of Nassella. Before James could blink, Cassandra had pulled her sword halfway from its sheath, Nassella had a knife in her hand, Bianca was loaded, Varric scanning the balconies for the shooter, and Solas had cast barriers over everyone.

But nothing else happened, and eventually they relaxed, weapons and barriers dropped. Nassella bent down over the arrow, pulling a piece of paper from the shaft, frowning as she read it.

“It says someone wants to help me, and there is someone who wants to hurt me. To look for the red things by the market, the docks, and…” she squinted, bringing the paper closer to her face, ”…the café. It says we might meet him first… and to bring swords. Signed ‘Friends of Red Jenny’.”

“Friends of Red Jenny? What is that?” Cassandra asked.

“I’ve heard of them, met one when I was travelling with Hawke,” Varric said. “It’s some sort of secret organization…”

Nassella looked at him with surprise. “Really? What do you think, should we follow the note?”

Varric shrugged. “It could be a trap, but… I doubt it, and if someone’s out to get you… it couldn’t hurt to check it out.”

Nassella nodded. “Alright, let’s look for these objects at least, see where they lead.”

 _Well I got my chance to explore,_ James thought as he followed Nassella around the city, listening to her exclaim in excitement every time someone found a clue. It was nearly dark when they found the last handkerchief, and, after a quiet discussion, it was decided that finding the address indicated on the notes would be best.

And when they did, all hell broke loose.

Or at least, it seemed like that to James. No one else blinked an eye, his four companions springing into action, dispatching their attackers with practiced ease. As the last man fell to his knees, Cassandra’s sword buried in his gut, James was hit with a wave of nausea. Then Nassella approached him, brows furrowed, blood spattered across her face and dripping from her knives. He felt bile in the back of his throat, and before he could control it, he vomited, spilling the contents of his stomach over the cobbled courtyard.

When he was finished he spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, face burning with embarrassment. _Get it together… you’ve seen worse in movies…_

“Are you alright James?” Nassella asked, reaching a hand out to hold his shoulder. She had tried to clean the blood from her face, but had only managed to smear it across her features. James stared, mouth hanging open. _She killed someone… I saw her slit his throat…_

“James?” She was frowning, searching his face in worry. “Have you ever seen someone die before?”

James swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Not like this. Not in person. But I’ll be fine.” _And they would have killed us. They needed to die._

Nassella stared at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Alright. We need to keep moving, but you stay back if we meet anyone else.” She dropped her hand and jogged across the courtyard. James followed, avoiding meeting Cassandra’s gaze. _Way to impress your teacher…_ he thought angrily.

A ball of fire met them as they moved through the next door. Nassella warily approached the offending mage, a man dressed in the Orlesian fashion, ridiculous mask and all. James kept his hand on his sword as they spoke, determined to contribute if more violence was necessary. _This is why you’ve been training. It’s kill or be killed…_

But the mage was dispatched by a woman with a bow, blonde hair short and ragged, pointed ears marking her as an elf. She joked as she pulled the arrow from the man’s head, and James nearly gagged at the sound. She was talking with Nassella, but he had a hard time following what was said, her accent and the words she used largely unfamiliar. But then she mentioned reinforcements, and James was pulling his sword from its sheath, preparing himself for the attack.

_Just like you practiced…_

Except it wasn’t like practice at all. Nassella told him he could stay back, avoid the fighting, but he couldn’t keep the others from attacking him. He barely had enough time to process, _he’s not wearing any pants…_ before his shield and sword were up, stopping blow after blow that rattled his teeth and shook his core. He was on the defensive, afraid to land his own blows and potentially expose himself, realizing that the penalty for a missed strike would be greater than a bruised hand or sore arm.

And the sounds. The clash of steel mixed with the tearing of flesh and breaking of bones, the screams of the injured and groans of the dying, those could never be truly replicated in a training session, and James’ ears were overwhelmed, pulling his concentration constantly from his own battle for life.

Then the hairs on his neck stood up, and he felt the thrum of a barrier across his skin, remembered he was wearing armor, and was now protected by Solas’ magic. Emboldened, he became more aggressive, pushing the other man back with his sudden change in tactics. He saw an opening and sliced at the man’s exposed legs, a streak of red opening up along his calf, as if painted by his sword. The man nearly fell, and James saw his opening…

And faltered, unable to move his sword to finish…

Felt the magic fall, leaving his skin exposed…

And then his sword was no longer in his hand. James looked down, registered that his palm was now painted with his own streak of blood…

Looked up to see a flash of iron ready to strike…

And then a crossbow bolt tore through the man’s neck, spattering James with blood. The guard brought a hand to his ruined throat, the life running out through his fingers. James held his breath, watching as the guard dropped to his knees, as the panic in his eyes faded to nothing. Then he was on the ground, dead.

The fight was over, the guard at his feet the last to fall. James breathed heavily, trying to calm his racing heart and rattled nerves. But instead of calm, the fear was replaced with anger. _Way to completely blow that. You had one job…_

“You alright there James?” Varric asked, running over to him, Bianca over his shoulder.

“James!” Nassella said, running across the courtyard. “Are you hurt? Do you need…?”

“I’m fine!” James yelled, glaring at the elf. She stopped, staring at him with wide eyes. “Just… I’m fine,” he said more quietly. He picked up his dropped sword and stalked across the courtyard, angry with the elf, the dwarf, the world, and himself. But primarily, he was embarrassed at his failure.

When he reached the wall of the courtyard he stopped, looking over his shoulder, noting that Nassella was busy speaking with the blonde elf, her other three companions listening attentively. Feeling calmer, he looked at his hand to assess the damage, but, to his surprise, the wound was gone, the only evidence it ever existed the blood drying on his skin. _Solas must have cast a healing spell…_

He sulked against the wall of the courtyard until the blonde elf departed, Nassella avoiding his gaze as they left the courtyard. _I shouldn’t have yelled at her_ , James thought with a wave of regret. After a while, Varric slowed his pace until he was walking next to James, then halted, allowing the other members of their party to pull ahead. James stopped himself, turning to the dwarf.

“Hey James, I know your life’s gone to shit, and you’re stressed, but you can’t push people away like that. Nassella’s a good kid, and she’s trying to help you out here. She’s got enough of her own problems on her plate. She doesn’t need to add thinking you don’t like her to the list.” James burned red.

“I know,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to yell, and it’s not that I don’t like her, l… I know she just wanted to help.” Varric nodded.

“Alright. But it’s not me you need to tell that to.” He patted him on the arm, then walked away after the others. James followed a moment later, dreading the prospect of apologizing to Nassella. He could not get the image of the brunette woman covered in blood, stabbing and slicing through flesh and bone, out of his mind. _I’ve never seen anything like these people before…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game property of Bioware.


	18. Safe Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and forth about whether or not to include this. Potential triggers ahead, though nothing graphic. Mind the tags.

“And Master Dennett arrived this morning with his mounts,” Cullen said, finishing his report for Josephine and Leliana, the former sitting at her desk, the latter standing next to him. “He is getting settled in the stables, and has requested four or five additional stablehands. I told him he can recruit from among the refugees.”

“Very good,” Leliana said, “he will certainly be useful.”

“And the Herald will be pleased,” Josephine added.

“Is there word from Val Royeaux yet?” he asked. “It has been over a week since they left.”

“I received a raven this morning. I’ve sent for Naomi to translate.” Leliana said. Cullen was pleased, curious to know how Nassella and the others were fairing with the Chantry. Then Leliana sighed. “While I admit I am intrigued at the possibility of using James and Naomi for communication with the Herald, are we sure we can trust their reports? I do not like that I cannot read the content.” Cullen could understand why Leliana was nervous. As their Spymaster, she kept track of the Inquisition’s secrets, and it was her job to be the first to know of events. But in this case, he thought her fears were unfounded.

“The Herald seemed confident they could be trusted,” Josephine said, “and I am inclined to agree. They have no connections outside of the Inquisition, and James is a member of the army.” Leliana did not look convinced, but before she could argue, a soft knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Josephine called. The door cracked open and Naomi’s brunette head peaked around the wood.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, flicking her eyes briefly toward him before looking back to Josephine. The Antivan woman smiled.

“Yes, yes, come in. We have a letter from your brother we need you to translate,” she said. Naomi smiled as she came fully into the room.

“Of course,” she said, taking the letter from Leliana, breaking the Inquisition seal. “Do you just want me to read it out loud…?” she asked, glancing back to Josephine.

The ambassador readied her quill. “Yes. Try to translate as exactly as possible, and I will write a copy.” Naomi read the letter silently, frowning slightly as she did. She glanced toward Cullen, a quick, nervous look, and he felt a surge of adrenaline. _Did something happen to the Herald…?_ She cleared her throat and began to read, pausing occasionally to allow time for Josephine to transcribe.

The report started out uneventful, but then Naomi described the meeting of the Herald with the Templars and the Chantry clerics. Cullen heard little past that point. _How could the Templars be so callous, turn so fully and publicly away from the Chantry, and leave Val Royeaux defenseless? I don’t agree with many of the actions of the Templars, but I never imagined this would happen… Surely not all of the Templars will agree with the Lord Seeker…_

“…and then James wrote to me, ‘Also, you can stop worrying so much Naomi, I’m fine. And Val Royeaux is really cool.’ Signed by James and Nassel… the Herald,” Naomi finished her report, looking up from the parchment.

“What does he mean by ‘cool’?” Josephine asked, pausing her writing. “If anything, Val Royeaux should be warmer than Haven this time of year.”

Naomi pursed her lips. “Oh, well… where I’m from, we say it to mean… when something is good, or interesting… something that most people like. It’s a good thing.” Josephine nodded, and scribbled on her parchment.

“Are you sure you are translating correctly?” Cullen asked. He wanted to believe there was some mistake, that the Templars had not truly abandoned the Chantry and the capital…

Naomi read back through the letter, then looked at him and nodded her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure.”

“Could James have made a mistake?” Again, Naomi shook her head.

“I cannot know for sure, but I don’t think he would, not with this.”

“There is no mistake,” Leliana said, her voice soft.

Cullen raised an eyebrow, looking to the spymaster. “How would you know that?”

Leliana glanced toward him from beneath her hood. “I have agents all over Thedas Commander, including Val Royeaux. Their reports do not cease simply because the Herald sends her own correspondence. What I have heard from my agents in the city is consistent with this report.”

“Why did you agree to send James at all, if you would receive your own reports?” Cullen asked, upset she had agreed to send an inexperienced fighter on a potentially dangerous mission, without hoping to gain an adequate reward from the risk.

“I did not want to. I did not think James and Naomi would understand the gravity of our situation, and had no reason to stay loyal to our cause. But I knew I could verify what word we received from Val Royeaux, so I did not object,” Leliana replied. “And the possibility that their language could be used by us was worth the risk.”

“If you had so many concerns, why did you not bring them up before they left?” Cullen asked. But before she could respond, Naomi cleared her throat.

“Could I say something?” she asked quietly, glancing between Josephine, Leliana, and himself with quick glances, brows pulled together in a frown.

“Of course Naomi,” Josephine said, shooting Leliana a glance of her own. Leliana nodded almost imperceptibly. Naomi cleared her throat again before speaking.

“I… don’t know where I would be – where James would be – if we had not been found by the Inquisition… You have helped us… and I don’t know how we could begin to repay you, but I am thankful, and I know James is as well.” She had started out softly, pausing often to collect her thoughts, voice wavering. But as she continued, she became more confident, and her words more passionate. She looked often to Leliana, as she was the one to be convinced. “And it’s true, we cannot fully understand everything that is happening here, and I’ll admit that I was not eager to help a military force that I knew little about. But we’ve learned from Josephine, and I’ve heard enough from those in Haven to know that the Inquisition is helping people, and wants peace. That is something I can support. And you are the only ones actually hoping to discover who made the Breach, and brought us here… who killed my brother.” Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath before continuing. “I can understand your hesitations, you don’t know me... but when I do a job, I do it well, and would never lie about something like this… nor do I want to.” She finished, looking to Leliana hopefully, eyes shining brightly. Cullen was impressed when she maintained eye contact with Leliana, until the spymaster gave her a small nod. Naomi grinned hopefully, and turned to smile at Josephine, who gave her a larger nod of the head. Then she turned to Cullen.

And he couldn’t help but turn up his lips in a small grin back. He had not doubted James and Naomi, but it was good to hear his impressions confirmed, from her own mouth. And he was amazed at how easily she smiled now, despite everything that had happened. He realized he was still looking into her green-blue eyes, and then she flushed pink and they were gone, back to Josephine.

“That will be all for today Naomi, we will let you know if we need you again,” Josephine said, dismissing the woman.

“Thank you,” Naomi said, smiling one last time before slipping from the room. When she was gone, Cullen turned to Leliana.

“Do you still have objections?”

Leliana turned her eyes to him, her gaze soft, though Cullen knew she was likely hiding her true feelings. “Not at present.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi finished her work for the day, and cracked her knuckles before putting the needles, yarn, and other materials in their proper places for the next day’s work. She was the last one in the laundry building, having to catch up from the time she missed in the morning meeting with Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen. She smiled to herself when she thought about the Commander, stupidly pleased she had a reason to be in the same room as him. But she chastised herself inwardly. _Of all your ridiculous crushes…_

But the meeting had not gone as she had anticipated. She thought she would go, read James’ letter, then be done. She had not expected that Leliana would doubt her, or her intentions. Sending letters had originally been intended to legitimize James travelling with Nassella, but when Leliana questioned her integrity… Naomi had suddenly wanted the idea to work for its own sake, recognizing it as an opportunity to help beyond mending soldier’s clothing.

She gathered up the small bundle of clothing she had set aside in a corner, shaking out the new dress Erna had let her pick out from the discarded clothing. The dress was worn, covered in patches, but it would be cooler than her current clothes. She hadn’t had a chance to try it on, and decided to do so, now that she was alone.

She pulled herself out of the warm wool dress she was currently wearing, breathing a sigh of relief when she was free of the itchy, constricting fabric. The new dress was made from a much thinner fabric, and only reached to her mid-calves. The underdress was thin and flowy, the sleeves off the shoulder, the overdress a faded red slip held up by thin straps. She was instantly cooler once she had changed, and added her old dress to the pile for washing the next day.

After blowing out the few candles that were still lit, Naomi slipped out of the door into the street. The sun had already set, but the air was still warm from the day. She glanced up at the stars, searching in vain for a familiar pattern. They were just as foreign as every other time she looked, but at least they looked like stars. She was still disoriented every time she caught sight of both moons in the sky. If she had any lingering thoughts that she was still on Earth, they were shattered by that second lunar sphere.

_I wonder how having two moons affects the tides…_ _Are they unpredictable, cancel each other out…? I bet they have really big ones when they line up just right…_

“Hey, look what we have here…”

“That’s James’ sister. Naomi! Why don’t you come over here! Have a drink.”

Naomi jumped and pulled her gaze from the sky, searching for the source of the voices. Two Templars were leaning against the wall of the laundry building to her left. One of them was Alec, the red-haired man she often saw James with. They were sharing a bottle, and had clearly been drinking from it for some time. When they saw her looking at them, Alec pushed from the wall and walked toward her, swaying slightly with each step.

“Working late?” he said, stopping his advance at a slightly uncomfortable distance. Naomi took a step back.

“Um, yes… and I was just going to go…” She made to walk away, but Alec stepped in front of her. Her heart rate increased and she took another step back.

“I still owe you a drink…” he held up the bottle. “We can take this… find somewhere to relax…” he lurched forward slightly, eyes moving from her face to areas lower. Then he smirked. “I like your new dress.” _I need to get out of here,_ Naomi thought, her face heating and heart racing. She backed up another step, but felt her back bump into the building. _Shit…_

She slid along the wall, moving away from Alec. “No… I think I’ll just go to my tent…”

“Come on,” he said, “don’t be like that…,” and put out his hand, grabbing her shoulder. Naomi tensed and swept it away.

“Don’t touch me!” she said, glancing quickly to Alec’s companion, who was still leaning against the wall, smirking. _I need to go,_ she thought, moving even further along the wall.

“What’s your problem?” Alec asked. Naomi didn’t answer, instead turning to walk up the street. But she hadn’t gone two steps before her arms were pulled back and she was pinned to the wall. Her body flooded with adrenaline and panic, but before she could yell, her vision was fading to black, spots of light dancing in front of her eyes…

_And she was twelve, only beginning to experience the changes of her growing body…_

_Her family gathered at her grandparent’s house for Easter…_

_Playing alone with a slightly older cousin…_

_Then she was on her stomach, pressed to the floor by his weight…_

_His hands touching her new breasts in a way she had never considered..._

Naomi gasped, her vision returning slowly, head spinning as if she had stood too quickly. The memory was so vivid, so real, as if she were in that basement again, could feel his hands…

Alec was still holding her, and Naomi sobbed, struggling to break free. But his hands were firm against her shoulders, his mouth at her neck.

So Naomi kicked him in the shins, and he was drunk enough that when he stepped back, he nearly stumbled to the ground. She took the opportunity to run, hearing Alec spitting out curses she couldn’t understand, his companion laughing.

_I need… I need… I need…_

She ran through Haven’s gates, toward her tent, but stopped before she entered. She was not the only one who lived there, and it was rarely empty. Frantically she looked around, briefly considering the dock. _No, too exposed…_

She was shaking, her entire body tense with adrenaline and fear, her stomach roiling with panic. It was hard to breath and she couldn’t think straight. _I need to move… I need… control…_

“Miss Westerkamp, are you alright?”

Naomi jumped, feet literally leaving the ground, turning around so quickly she almost fell over. Cullen was standing a few steps away, brows furrowed with concern. He took a step forward and Naomi shrank away, feeling guilty the moment she did. _No, not Cullen. He wouldn’t do anything… I think…_

“I’m fine… I need… to…” she stammered, then turned and ran again, her heart wrenching. _Why? Why did he do this to me?_

She weaved through the tents, ignoring the stares of the few people she passed. She saw the stables ahead and moved toward them, feeling safer once under the roof of the building. She ducked into an empty stall, curled into a ball in the corner, buried her head in her arms, and finally let her tears out.

_Why, why, why…?_

 

\----- 

 

Naomi turned in a circle, trying to see through the dense fog that surrounded her. She shivered in the damp cold, wrapping her arms around herself for the meager warmth they provided. She strained to see through the mist, but saw nothing for what seemed like hours. So when the fog began to break, revealing glimpses of shadowy figures, she almost didn’t believe it. But soon, she recognized the memories that they were.

Her seven year old self playing with a boy from her class in the dirt during recess…

Her nine year old self pulling her crush into the seat next to her on the bus…

Her eleven year old self playing basketball and football at recess with the boys…

_You were always a quiet child, but never shy…_

Naomi jumped, turning around. The voice had been close, like a whisper in her ear, a woman’s rich alto. Her heart thumping, she looked for the source of the voice, but saw nothing. Then the fog broke, revealing the memory she dreaded most. She cried as she watched her cousin wrestle the younger version of herself to the ground. She closed her eyes, unable to continue.

_You were lucky. He could have done more._

Naomi shivered, opening her eyes in fear. But no one was there. Then the voice spoke again, as more memories flashed in front of her.

_How can you trust anyone, if you can’t trust your family…?_

She saw herself reading in a corner instead of joining in family games, her mother telling her to stand up straight, unaware that her daughter slumped to make her breasts look smaller, turning down an offer to slow dance in middle school, then again at prom, sitting silent while her friends talked about their crushes, afraid to admit her own, crying in bed when someone told her he liked her over a text message…

_You isolate yourself, put up walls to protect your body, your heart. You want intimacy, physical and emotional, but there are too many variables… the outcomes too uncertain. You are too weak… you cannot control the actions of others…_

Suddenly someone grabbed her from behind, and she could feel hands on her breasts. She screamed, struggling against her attacker. Then the hands were gone, and she turned, finding the looming figure of Alec behind her. She stumbled back, and Alec’s figure shifted, transformed into the slim figure of Leliana.

_You want her to trust you... Why?_

Then Leliana became Solas. Naomi started to tremble, feeling the progress she had made toward normalcy slipping away. The confidence she had gained in her own body, suddenly gone as her insecurities returned. It had taken her years to cultivate friendships, and now those were gone, ripped away by the Breach. Solas turned into Varric, then Cullen…

_You shouldn’t even trust them. You feel safe in Haven… but it’s when you feel safe you are hurt the most…_

Cullen became Nassella, and Naomi questioned everything…opening up to Nassella, sending her brother away with people she barely knew, believing that Solas had done everything to save David…

_They will hurt you. You cannot protect yourself… you need assistance…_

“No.”

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m dreaming.” She curled around her knees and continued to take deep, even breaths. Solas had told her about dreaming, and demons. “I’m dreaming… You’re lying…” Another deep breath. “I a _m_ safe. They will not hurt me…” She breathed, in and out, repeating to herself, “I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe….”


	19. Horses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters do not always occur on a single day. So the two events here take place over a week apart.

Naomi woke with a start. Her eyes were crusted from sleep, her body stiff and butt sore. She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, breathing in the earthy, animal scent of the stables. She wished she could stay in that stall, safe and warm, away from the mass of foreign people outside of its walls, for the rest of the day.

She was still rattled from the previous night, and her dream had done little to calm her. She had spent so much time trying to _forget_ what had happened, and to be reminded like this… She took a deep breath. Removed from the situation, safe in the stables, she could think more clearly, and it would not do to dwell in her fear.

First she considered Alec. The Templar had frightened her, that much was certain, but she realized she should have seen something like this coming. He had made comments, sent her glances that in hindsight were clear. But she was not used to such attention, had gotten very little in her life, and didn’t know how to gracefully deal with it in her own world, much less this one. And she could not understand why Alec had pursued her in the first place. She knew she wasn’t unattractive, but there was nothing special about her. Abigail had always been the beautiful one.

She had overreacted, she decided. He was drunk, in a public place… his friend there… Nothing would have happened. A stronger woman would have been more aggressive, pushed him away sooner. She needed to be stronger, less afraid. She would often be alone here, with Nassella travelling and James… well James. She needed to rely more on herself.

_I’ve gotten better. It was nearly fifteen years ago. I’m not a shy, withdrawn teenager anymore... at least, not_ as _shy and withdrawn. I know most people aren’t like that… I can’t let a single person ruin everything I’ve built…_

But then she thought of her encounter with Cullen and nearly cried. She was attracted to him, though she was not so naïve to think anything would have come of it. Any woman would be attracted to Cullen. But she had always hoped to find someone, someday. She wanted to have a family, someone to spend her life with, but she could not imagine how that would happen. An emotional connection had to come before a physical one, and she could not be completely open with anyone here. She could not talk about her childhood, her family, her entire life until a few months ago. Only four men knew her true origin. One was her brother, and the other three would have no interest in her. She would be alone.

_No, not alone._ The voice in her dream, whether a demon or an aspect of her own mind, had said she could not trust the others here. But she would not accept that. Solas, Cullen, Varric, Nassella… they all had plenty of opportunities to hurt her. But instead they had helped, and she had to believe they were genuine, or she would be completely lost. She had made friends before, though slowly, and she would continue to try. But she would be more cautious. She had already been too open with Nassella…

Something snorted and Naomi yelped, eyes flying open. “Fuck!” she cursed, when she found herself looking at the snout of a horse, the animal inching forward until it was sniffing at her hair. Placing a hand over her racing heart she laughed, putting out her other hand to rub the soft velvet of its nose. “Shit, you scared me,” she said through a smile. “I thought I was alone in here.” The horse snorted again, shaking its head. Naomi rubbed the nose more vigorously, bringing her other hand to the side of the animal’s face. “Well, so long as it’s just you, I don’t mind not being alone.” The horse huffed and backed away, allowing room for Naomi to stand, stretching out the fatigue in her legs as she did. She brushed the straw from her clothes, disappointed she had gotten them dirty so soon after acquiring them. _It doesn’t matter… you’re always dirty here… What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower…_

She looked around, noting the dim light that was starting to fill the stables. She would have to return to the laundry soon. But first, she decided, she would spend more time petting the horse. It approached once more, and Naomi spent some time rubbing her hands over its neck, back, and nose. The animal was spotted with large patches of white and light brown, its mane also white, and it was affectionate, rubbing its head along her arms.

“At least you’re gentler than the druffalo,” she told the animal. “I wouldn’t have needed to climb a tree if I met _you_ in the woods…”

“Who’s there?” a deep male voice asked. Naomi turned with a jump and saw a light approaching.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I was just petting the horse…” she said quickly, squinting as the man holding the lantern came close. She could see that he was older, with a white beard but bald head. He frowned slightly as he looked at her.

“You’re petting the horse?” he asked, looking at her in disbelief from the outside of the stall. At that moment the horse nudged her hand, as she had stopped her ministrations when the man approached. She returned to her stroking.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to be here… I just fell asleep in the stall last night…”

“You slept in the stall?” he asked, his surprise apparently growing.

Naomi blushed, though it couldn’t be seen in the dim light. “Yes. Again, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, dismissing her worries with a wave of his hand. “I’m just surprised the horse let you. Found the thing wandering the Hinterlands, and she hasn’t let anyone but me near her since. And she only tolerates me.” He brought a hand to stroke his beard. “What’s your name?”

“Naomi… Westerkamp,” she said.

“Are you from Haven?” he asked.

“No, I’m a refugee… originally from the Anderfels,” she explained, feeling more comfortable with her lie.

“I’m Dennet,” he said. “I just arrived here myself, to be Horsemaster for the Inquisition.” He stroked his beard some more. “What do you do, for the Inquisition?”

Naomi sighed. “I’ve been mending clothing.”

“Have you ever worked with horses before?” She shook her head.

“No. I’ve ridden them before… though it was always on an old, well-behaved horse… and a long time ago.”

“How would you like to work in the stables? I’m in need of stablehands.” Naomi raised her eyebrows in surprise. _He’s offering me a job?_

Her first instinct was to refuse, make a polite apology and return to the laundry. But as she stroked the horse she smiled. _This could be a chance to learn something useful…I became a biologist initially because I loved animals, and I’ve always loved horses…_ But then she frowned.

“I really don’t have any experience,” she said. “Why would you want me?”

Dennet shrugged. “Anyone can learn to work with horses, and if this one likes you… well, at the very least it would be nice to have someone around who could deal with her. I’ll admit it’ll take some time to get you in shape, but you’ll be fine.”

“Could I learn to ride?”

Dennet chuckled. “Of course.”

Naomi smiled again. Just thinking about the prospect of working with the animals was making her happy. The horse in the stall whickered, and she laughed softly.

“Yes, I’ll work here.” Then, “Thank you.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James dismounted from his horse, sighing with relief when his feet were back on the ground. He had no great love for the beast, and found riding him frustrating. He could not seem to get the hang of directing the animal, and mostly found himself allowing the beast to tail one of the other riders along the road.

They had stopped for a break, but hoped to reach Haven by the end of the day. James was looking forward to their return. The journey had been awkward, the other members of the party talking to him less than at the beginning. Well, at least some of them. Cassandra had not talked much to begin with, but after their encounter at Val Royeaux, she had been pushing him further in their sparring, reserving her words for lectures on not hesitating in battle, on being aggressive, on staying focused… it was maddening. James still wanted to learn, to help catch his brother’s killer and the person who brought him here. But the constant badgering was wearing him thin.

Solas had stopped asking him questions about his home, spending the majority of his time talking with Nassella. Varric still spoke with him, though his jokes became less frequent with each day James neglected to apologize to the brunette elf. And Nassella… she had not spoken to him unless necessary, and her words were few, her smiles infrequent and strained.

James was ready to get to Haven, find his friends, and spend the night in the tavern.

He led his horse to a stream nearby, drinking deeply from his own canteen as the animal slacked its thirst. He ran a hand through his hair, wincing at the texture. _I can’t believe how long it’s been since I got clean… I am so sick and tired of this…_

“Ready to keep moving?” James looked over to find Nassella standing by the water, holding her own horse by the reigns. She looked at him with a quick glance, then winced slightly and looked away, absentmindedly stroking her horse. James winced inwardly himself. The elf was clearly upset with what he had said, but he could not bring himself to apologize.

Then Nassella sighed. “James, before we get back to Haven… I want to say I’m sorry, for bringing you along… you weren’t ready… I realize that now.” James stared at the elf. _She’s apologizing to me? She’s been avoiding me because_ she _feels guilty?_ “You should not have had to experience fighting… not yet. I forget it was not very long ago I was vomiting myself behind bushes in the Hinterlands. I’ve killed all my life, but it was for food… never people. And Naomi talked so much about how you never saw fighting in your life. I should have anticipated how difficult it would be for you.”

James frowned. Yes, he had been caught off guard by the fight, but he had not expected his reaction. This world was different than his own, and he knew what he was training to do. He had to learn to kill, or he would be killed in return. It was how things were. He looked at his hand, though no evidence remained it had ever been injured. _I could have died so easily. If it weren’t for Varric…_

He looked back to Nassella. “You don’t need to apologize… I knew what I was getting myself into. I’m the one… I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” Nassella opened her mouth to speak, but James continued. “I’ll do better next time.”

Nassella considered him a moment, then nodded. “I’m still sorry. And I think you need to spend more time in Haven… train more. I forget sometimes you have only been here a couple of months. There will likely be plenty of time for fighting in the future, though I pray to the gods it will not come to that.” She patted her horse’s neck. “And there is no need to apologize to me, though I appreciate the thought.” She smiled at him, leading her horse away from the water. James watched her leave, realizing it was the longest conversation he had ever had with the elf.

Something had changed in the way he saw her, after watching her kill and stand before him covered in blood. He had once looked at her and only saw Makenzie, but now… now his perception had shifted, and he saw Nassella for her differences. Green eyes instead of brown, the sprinkle of freckles across her nose… the profile of her nose, her ears, her vallaslin… he wondered how he had ever seen her otherwise.

He still dreamed of Makenzie, but only of her, interacting with Nassella exclusively in the waking world. Though he also dreamed more often of his family and friends left behind. Those were painful, and he had not expected to long for them as he did. _Yes, I need a drink._

Back on the road, some hours later, James found his horse trailing slightly behind Nassella’s. But instead of trying in vain to awkwardly move his horse away, he urged it forward, surprised when it responded. “You said you were a hunter, right? What sorts of animals do you hunt?” Nassella glanced over at him in surprise, then smiled.

“Oh, well, nugs mostly. But rams, when we could find them.”

“The biggest thing you’ve ever hunted?” Nassella’s eyes misted over, and she smirked at the memory.

“Well, when I was old enough to become a full hunter, I had to go on a hunt by myself… to prove I could provide for the clan. Hunting with knives can be tricky… normally, hunters sneak up on their prey. But my mother taught me another way. So, that day, I found a well-travelled trail, climbed a tree, and waited, thinking a ram would come by. I sat there for hours, and had almost decided to try a different spot, when I heard something coming. I got ready, positioning myself to jump. But it wasn’t a ram. Instead, a bear was following the trail.” James listened avidly as she told the story. He noticed that Solas and Cassandra had stopped talking, and were drawing their horses closer to listen. Nassella glanced to Solas and smiled, then continued her story.

“I could have let the bear go, we are not expected to hunt such beasts, especially alone. But humans will pay a lot for their pelt and claws, and their meat isn’t half bad. I wanted to show I could be a good provider, so I prayed for Mythal to protect me, and for Andruil to guide my blades, and dropped from the tree onto the bear.” Then she sighed. “I tried to stab the bear’s eye, but missed, only grazing her cheek. She shook and threw me off. I was lucky. I was far enough away that when she charged me that I was able to climb back up a tree, out of her reach. Not unlike your sister, actually, and her druffalo,” she said, smirking at James. He frowned.

“What druffalo?” he asked. Nassella laughed.

“That’s Naomi’s story to tell.”

“Oh come on,” Varric said. “It’s a good one.”

“No, no,” Nassella insisted. “James can hear it from his own sister’s lips.”

“So what happened after that?” Solas asked. “How did you prove your worth as a hunter?”

“Well, the bear finally grew tired of me and left. I was rattled, realizing I had been foolish to try for her, thinking I would now return to my clan as a failure. But on the walk back, I came across a brace of nugs, and brought those instead. They really aren’t hard to catch, so it wasn’t exactly impressive,” she said with a shrug. “Some of the boys laughed at me, saying I could never be a good hunter, that I was too small. They had all brought back rams from their hunts.” Then she smiled brightly. “But I showed them, eventually. I became the best hunter in my clan, bringing back far more game than anyone. That’s partly why I was sent to the Conclave.”

James shook his head. That one moment of her life was more exciting than his entire existence.

“You know,” James said on impulse, “you look a lot like the person I was dating back home, but your life is so different.”

Nassella cleared her throat. “I actually…. already knew that,” she said quietly, apologetically.

“What?” he asked.

“Naomi told me,” she said. James’ mouth dropped open. “She was worried that you were uncomfortable seeing me, and thought I should know. I… brought you along partly so you could get to know me… see me as different.” James fumed. _Naomi… always getting in my business. It never ends! She can’t just think she can fix everything about me. I don’t need fixing…_

He heard his mother’s voice, telling him everything he did wrong, as she had always done. _Do your homework. Don’t lose your things, you’re so irresponsible. Get a job. Why can’t you be like your sister…?_

_Because Naomi was always so perfect. Good grades, good at everything she tried. She had her life together. But not me. No, never me._

He glared at his horse’s ears. _But I’m learning how to fight. I_ will _be good at that. Naomi won’t have that. She’s not good at anything here..._

Then he heard the sound of hoofs on the road ahead. He looked up to see two riders approaching on matching brown horses. They were pushing their horses to run down the road, and as they drew near, he recognized one of the riders.

_You’ve got to be kidding me…_

He watched as his sister pulled back her charging mount with ease, turning the horse to fall into step next to his. Her face was flushed red and she had hair coming out of her braid.

“James!” she said, smiling. “You’re back! Look! I’m learning how to ride horses!” James tried to smile back.

“Great.”


	20. Settled In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little over two months have passed since the last chapter. Nassella has gone back to the Hinterlands to get Blackwall and talk to the mages, to the Fallow Mire, and is currently at the Storm Coast.

“James, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes. We do. We need to figure out…”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now Naomi.”

“I know you don’t _want_ to, but when they close the Breach…”

“ _If_ they close the Breach.”

“ _When_ they close the Breach, and the refugees go home, what are we going to do? We have nowhere to go.”

“We both work for the Inquisition. We can stay here.”

“But the Inquisition isn’t meant to last forever. What will we do when the Breach is closed and it breaks up?”

“It won’t break up after the Breach is closed. There is still finding the person who made it in the first place, and the fighting between the mages and Templars to figure out. The Inquisition will be around for a while yet, which is why we don’t need to talk about this right now.”

Naomi glared at her plate, grabbing a chunk of bread to take a bite. She knew James was right, to an extent. They would likely be with the Inquisition for a long time, but it would end eventually… that was the point. Then they would have to move on and find a life elsewhere, and she was beginning to doubt whether James would want to stay with her. They only spent considerable amounts of time together when they met once a week in the tavern to eat, and she was the one who insisted on that. If it were up to James, they would likely only see each other in passing.

_But I’ve learned so much, I’ll be able to work in a stable… almost anywhere, having Dennet as a reference._ Naomi smiled. She had loved her work on Earth, studying biology and doing research, but there was something about working with the horses that left her happier and more satisfied than anything had in her life.

“Did anything interesting happen in the last week?” James asked. Naomi looked back up and smiled.

“I got to help with a birth for the first time!”

“Gross.”

Naomi snorted. “It’s the miracle of life, James, not… ok, it was a little gross, but it’s a good thing to learn.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it more than I did,” James said, taking a bite of cheese.

“What about you? Anything exciting to report?”

“Nope, just more of the same.” Then he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I just know I can do more. I’ve been training long enough…. I want to get out there, do something!”

“You’ll have your chance, don’t worry,” she said. What she didn’t say was how glad she was that he hadn’t been sent away, because while he was in Haven, she knew he was safe.

They ate in silence for a few moments. “Are you ever going to cut your hair?” she finally asked, glancing up at her brother’s unruly mess of dark hair, now long enough to be pulled back. James just shrugged.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I kind of like it long.” Naomi considered her brother.

“You do pull it off.” He grinned, then waved for someone across the room to approach. Naomi turned and saw that Alec and another soldier had entered the tavern. She felt her face flush, and turned back to James with wide eyes. “Um, I need to go… I have to… organize the saddles yet tonight…,” she managed to string together as she stood from the table, tripping slightly over the chair as she turned. Without making eye contact with the Templar she left the tavern, passing the elf Sera as she did. _I need to stop freaking out so much,_ she thought as she walked through Haven, _he hasn’t talked to me for months._

“Hey Freckles! How’s the book coming?” Varric asked as she passed his tent. She smiled at the dwarf and adjusted her course to approach him.

“You’re going to need a new nickname for me come the middle of winter,” she said.

Varric laughed. “I’ll believe those can disappear when I see it.”

“Trust me, they do,” she said as she took a seat next to Varric. “The book’s really interesting, though I’m not used to reading so slowly. Thank you again for teaching me.”

“It was selfish, really. What good is writing books if people can’t read them?” Varric said with a wink.

Naomi smirked. “Ah, of course, but I’m thankful nonetheless. I do have a question though. If Hawke killed the Arishok, wouldn’t that have started a war with the Qunari?”

“I was told later that the Qunari disavowed his actions. Apparently, the Arishok didn’t get permission before he attacked Kirkwall, and the Qun didn’t want another Exalted March. When they finally sent a ship to haul the wrecked dreadnought away, they just said, ‘We will never speak of this again.’ As far as I can tell, that’s the Qun’s version of an apology,” Varric explained.

“Hmm… that’s good I suppose,” Naomi replied. “It’s scary how one person can throw everything into chaos like that.”

Varric chuckled wryly. “That’s how things seem to work around here. I won’t spoil the book for you, but that wasn’t the last time something like that happened.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Wars were started where I came from because a few people decided to assassinate someone… or fly planes into buildings,” Naomi said sadly.

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Varric said.

“And a long one,” Naomi sighed. She glanced at Varric and saw him looking at her expectantly. “Alright, so here is the short history of the Earth… or at least what I can remember…”

Nearly two hours later, after answering Varric’s questions and exhausting her knowledge of history, when the sun was setting, Naomi bid the dwarf farewell and continued her journey back to the stables. On her way through Haven’s gates she met Cullen, who stopped her.

“Miss Westerkamp, how are you this evening?”

She smiled. “I am well, Commander. And you can call me Naomi.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “It wouldn’t… be appropriate.” Naomi just sighed, unused to such propriety. “I am planning to send a group of soldiers to the Hinterlands in a few days,” he continued, “and am considering including your brother. Do you think he would be agreeable?” Naomi felt her breath catch, and her gut reaction was to say _No! He wouldn’t want that. You can’t make him go…_ But it wasn’t her place to decide, and she knew he _would_ want to go.

“I am sure he is willing to go wherever you send him, Commander.”

Cullen nodded. “It will be a short assignment, primarily aimed to give new recruits experience in the field. There should be little danger,” he said in a tone different than the one used on the sparring field. He was almost… apologetic? Naomi was confused. James was in the army, and subjected to all of the risks that entailed. Cullen had no reason to apologize for sending him away.

“He is a soldier… I know he will be in danger at some point,” Naomi said hesitantly.

“Yes, but you have been through a lot recently. I do not wish to add to your troubles.” Then he gave her a final nod before continuing on his way. Naomi watched Cullen go, blushing furiously. Her initial attraction had not worn away, in fact, had actually grown as she had watched him over the last couple of months. He was the Commander, but he did not act as she expected. He was serious, but not arrogant, and spent time with his soldiers, not afraid to jump in and lead training on the grounds instead of holing away in his tent. Everyone respected him, and he cared for the lives of his soldiers. He was always professional, and she never felt uncomfortable around him, knowing he would never reciprocate her feelings. If anything, she felt safer when he as around.

Back in the stables, Naomi found her way to her favorite horse, the spotted Dalish all-bred she had met those months ago. As she approached the horse neighed, sticking her head outside the stall to be petted.

“Hello girl,” Naomi cooed, rubbing the horse’s nose. “Nice to see you. You were so good today, getting your new shoes.”

“Talking to the horses again? Keep that up and people will start to think you’re not right in the head.” Naomi smiled at the man who had entered the stables. He was shorter than herself, with a stocky build, and claimed that he could grow a full beard from the day he turned fourteen. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the horse.

“Don’t listen to Jaron. He just doesn’t understand our relationship.” The horse snorted and rolled her head in affirmation. Jaron approached with a hand outstretched, reaching for the horse, but the animal backed away as he drew near, retreating to the back of her stall.

“You’re going to have to work harder, if that horse is ever going to be ridden,” he said, leaning against the stall wall. Naomi sighed.

“I know… I don’t know what happened before Dennet found her, to make her like this.”

“If anyone can do it, it will be you,” he said. “Smart, beautiful, a good rider. The Maker was sure generous when he created you.” Naomi kicked some straw across the floor in embarrassment. Jaron’s compliments and flirtation had been awkward for her, at first, but she quickly learned she was not the only one to receive his attention. It was his way of communicating, and she knew he never actually expected anything in return.

She snorted, knowing she was only, arguably, one of those things. “Jaron, I’ve seen you pick up enough women to know when you’re exaggerating.”

“I _will_ say almost anything to get a girl into bed,” he said through a laugh. Then he sobered. “But I’m serious Naomi, you’re one of the best riders I’ve ever seen… and only after a couple of months! I know Dennet thinks so too.” Naomi blushed, but didn’t respond. “So,” Jaron continued, “how did dinner with the brother go?”

Naomi shrugged. “Alright, I suppose. I met Commander Cullen on the way back… I think he’s sending James away soon.” She felt a lump forming in her throat. Her family had never been drawn to the military, the closest relatives who had ever fought being great-uncles and a second-cousin. She was having a hard time accepting his new role.

The last of the light was fading from the stables and Jaron yawned. “I think I’ll turn in for the night,” he said. “Make sure you get to sleep soon yourself. We have an early day of shoeing tomorrow.”

“I know,” Naomi replied. “See you then.” When Jaron was gone the horse came back, and Naomi returned to rubbing her head. “You know, I should really come up with a name for you,” she said. “I can’t just call you ‘girl’ all the time.” The horse huffed.

_I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight,_ she thought when she returned to her bed. _I’m still exhausted from the last time…_

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

As Naomi left the tavern James greeted Alec and Emory, the Templars taking seats across the table from him. Alec grabbed the bread left on Naomi’s plate and took a bite. “Your sister busy again?” he asked between a bite.

“Yeah, organizing saddles or something.”

“Too bad,” he said, but dropped the subject. Over an hour later, after several drinks had been consumed, Alec started to rant about mages.

“I don’t know why they’re even considering using the mages to close the Breach. They fucking sold themselves to _Tevinter_. They should be wiped out for that, not brought to the Inquisition. I don’t know what they’re fucking thinking,” he said, taking another drink from his mug.

“Don’t they need magic to close the Breach?” James asked. Alec snorted.

“Templars suppress magic. Get enough of them together, and we can bring that Breach under control. We don’t need no fucking mages,” he spat. James turned his mug around between his hands. He had not heard many good things about mages around the camp, but Alec’s hatred was unlike anything else he had encountered. Alec believed all mages were monsters, but James had spent enough time with Solas to question that assertion. And Alec had not been in Val Royeaux. The Templars obviously wanted nothing to do with the Inquisition.

“It’s that fucking elf… the _Herald of Andraste_. So she can close the rifts? That doesn’t mean a knife-ear should be involved in making decisions. If you ask me, Commander Cullen should just say we’re going to the Templars, and that will be that.” Alec took another drink. “Fucking knife-ear. You know what? Someone _should_ fuck her, show her her place...”

James stood from the table, suddenly flooded with anger. It was one thing to insult the mages, but bringing Nassella into it…

“What’s your problem?” Alec asked.

“You are!” James yelled. “All you do is complain about the mages and pick up women. I’m sick of it! And now you’re… you can’t talk about Nassella like that! She’s… amazing… and you’re just an asshole.” Then he made his way toward the door, passing the blonde elf from Val Royeaux cackling by the door.

In the street he took a deep breath, realizing he had just alienated the people he spent most of his free time with. But he didn’t regret his outburst, he decided as he walked. _They really did spend all their time drinking, chasing women, complaining about something… I don’t need that…_

“Hey James, you alright there?” James looked up and saw Varric in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, then laughed wryly. “I probably don’t have any friends anymore, but I’m fine.”

“Ah, don’t say that,” Varric said. “You’ve got your sister, me, Nassella.” James shrugged. “Well, your sister just left, but now that you’re here, do you mind answering a few questions for me? Naomi mentioned you might be able to fill in a few gaps about your land’s history.”

“I’ve got some time,” James said. But he had barely jumped into his own telling of World War One when Cullen arrived. James quickly saluted, fist across his chest.

“Curly!” Varric said as a greeting. “What brings you by?”

“I am on my way to meet Lady Montilyet, but saw Recruit Westerkamp.” Then the Commander turned toward him. “I’m going to send you to the Hinterlands with the next patrol. It will be a short assignment. Do you feel you are ready?” James’ heart rate picked up. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but he was ready to try. _And I won’t have to see Alec for a while…_

“Yes ser.”

Cullen nodded. “Good. Corporal Vale is in charge of the troops there. You’ll leave in three days. See requisitions for armor and weapons.”

“Yes ser,” he repeated, smile spreading across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I know this chapter ended like a previous one, but hey, I’m new at this!
> 
> A small amount of dialogue from the game used.


	21. Liberty

Naomi rubbed the Dalish All-Bred’s sides affectionately, accustoming the animal to her touch. She leaned on her, putting weight on her back, and circled her arms around her belly, testing the horse’s tolerance. When the horse stood patiently through the exercise, Naomi carefully placed a saddle across the horses back, watching for a reaction. The horse twitched her ears back and stamped a foot, but didn’t shrug the leather device off, so Naomi buckled the saddle around her belly, tightening the straps until it was secure. The bridle already in place, Naomi led the horse from the stable to the yard.

“Today the day?” Jaron asked as she passed him shoveling manure near the door. Naomi stopped and patted the All-Bred’s side affectionately.

“I think so… she seems calm, and barely flinched when I put the saddle on. I’m willing to try at least.” Jaron put down his shovel and followed her outside. The yard was empty, only a few soldiers and refuges loitering around the perimeter. Naomi spent some time rubbing the horses face, talking softly to her.

“Alright girl… I’m going to try and ride you. You may not like it, but I promise you won’t get hurt. It’ll just be me back there…” A couple final pats, a smile flashed toward Jaron, and Naomi positioned herself next to the horse’s side. She adjusted the reins, took a deep breath, then quickly placed a foot in the stirrup and hauled herself onto the horses back.

She barely had enough time to place her other foot in the stirrup before the horse had laid her ears back flat and was standing on her hind legs with a panicked neigh. Naomi clamped her thighs together and leaned forward, grabbing at the reins to keep her balance. She thought for a moment the horse would continue moving backward until she fell over, but just when she felt herself slipping, the horse dropped back down to all fours.

Then she began to run, and no matter how hard Naomi pulled on the reins, the horse continued a mad dash around the yard. She briefly saw Jaron jumping out of the way as the horse circled the enclosure, then the mare turned and ran straight toward the fence. Naomi tried in vain to pull the All-Bred back, and prepared herself for the impact with the fence, when the horse bunched her muscles and _jumped_ over the barrier. Naomi’s stomach flopped, and her teeth clacked together as the horse impacted the ground, never breaking her stride as she sprinted toward the camp. Naomi briefly heard the shout of Jaron behind her before she was trying desperately to steer the horse around the soldiers and refugees scattered before her. By some miracle the animal made it through the camp without incidence, though the curses shouted behind her indicated there were numerous close calls. Then the horse was pounding down the road, Naomi carefully perched on her back, absorbing most of the frantic impacts with her legs.

Periodically she tried to pull the horse back, or direct her with the reins, but mostly she just let the mare run, enjoying the feel of the breeze on her face and the powerful movement of the horse beneath her, relishing her moment of freedom from worries, responsibilities, insecurities, and grief. The horse ran further and faster than she had anticipated, estimating that at least two miles passed before she sensed a change in her gait, indicating the horse was finally tiring. Naomi took over then, testing her control with the reins, pleased when the horse responded. But instead of turning back, Naomi kept going, curious to see more of the world than Haven, enjoying the different view of the mountains her ride had given her and the changing colors of autumn. She had not gone much further, however, before she saw a group of people on the road ahead.

And as she drew nearer, Naomi stared, her eyes growing wide. _Holy shit… is that…?_

Among the group was the largest person she had ever seen, shirtless and displaying his obvious strength, one eye covered with a patch. But what drew Naomi’s gaze was the set of horns on his head, spanning nearly the width of his broad shoulders, curving up at the ends. Josephine had told her about Qunari, and there was no mistaking he _was_ Qunari, but nothing could prepare her for the sight of one in person.

_Too bad James left… he would love to see this…_

“Naomi!” She tore her gaze from the giant man, realizing that Nassella was among the group, along with Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, and a number of others. Quickly, Naomi sat back on the saddle, pulling the reins back.

“Come on girl,” she said, “you can stop now… That’s it…” The All-Bred slowed to a stop, rising up slightly on her hind legs again, but quickly dropped back down, sides heaving. Naomi bent down and rubbed a hand along the horse’s neck. “There you go… that wasn’t so bad, was it?” She slid from the saddle, moving to the mare’s face, continuing to give encouragement. _Hopefully the next ride will be better…_

“Are you the welcome party?” Nassella asked with a laugh when she had dropped from her own Ferelden Forder. “I see you finally rode her, that’s exciting!” Naomi laughed.

“I may have rode her, but I wasn’t exactly in control for most of it,” she said. But before she could continue, she heard hoofs pounding up the road from Haven, and when she turned, she saw Commander Cullen pulling back his own mount, hair messy from the wind and face flushed from the exertion of his ride. Confused, Naomi watched him dismount, then sweep his hair back into place, before he walked toward her with a worried expression on his face.

“Are you alright?”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi looked at him as if he had asked her if she had brown hair or freckles, and Cullen immediately felt foolish. _Of course she is alright. I have seen nothing to suggest she could not handle herself on a horse… You’ve watched her in the training yard yourself on multiple occasions._ But when the mare, Naomi clinging to her back, had nearly run over the group of visiting nobles he had spent the morning accompanying to the site of the destroyed temple, he had felt a pang of worry. She had clearly had little control over the animal, and if she had been thrown from the mare’s back and injured, she would have had a hard time returning to the camp.

_And my own mount was already saddled,_ he reasoned, _it was not too much trouble to follow behind, just to make sure…_

Naomi was still looking at him, one moment stretching into two, bright blue-green eyes studying his own face intently. He felt his face flush, and he was glad it was likely masked by the effect of the heat. The season had turned to autumn, but a lingering warm spell meant physical exertion was still exhausting, and Cullen could see when he dropped his gaze that Naomi was also sweating, thin tunic clinging to her damp skin, elevated breathing causing her chest to rise and fall more than usual…

Cullen flushed again, quickly returning his gaze to her face, glad to see that she had looked away. She smiled at Nassella and laughed, then looked back to him. “I’m great, actually! Haven’t had that much fun in a long time.” Then she patted her All-Bred’s side affectionately. “I suppose it was good you followed me though. She almost threw me off back in the yard.” Cullen breathed easier, relieved he had not offended the woman. He felt a lingering urge to protect her, but she was proving herself capable of looking after herself, no longer the frightened, injured, and grieving woman he had first met when the Breach was new.

“That was my concern,” he said. Then he turned to Nassella. “Herald, it is good to see you returned. And not alone,” he said, noting the large Qunari watching them from a short distance away. Following his gaze, Nassella turned, beckoning the man over.

“Commander, this is The Iron Bull. I mentioned in my report I hired his mercenary company, The Chargers, for the Inquisition.”

The Iron Bull nodded. “Good to finally meet you, Commander.” Then he turned to Naomi. “And what’s your name?” he asked, voice rumbling in his chest. Cullen saw Naomi swallow, then smile.

“Naomi Westerkamp… nice to meet you.”

The Iron Bull raised an eyebrow. “Westerkamp…,” he said, testing the word, “never heard that name before… where are you from?” Cullen watched a flash of panic cross Naomi’s face, but she quickly adopted a more neutral expression, though her eyes remained large.

“The Anderfels,” she said calmly.

“Hmm… you don’t have an Ander accent.”

“Well, umm…” she tried to explain, but faltering. She shot Nassella a glance, but the Herald didn’t see, her face furrowed in thought. Cullen was surprised at the Qunari’s insistence. Naomi did speak differently than anyone he had ever met, speaking primarily like Solas, whose accent was unique in itself, with overtones of Ferelden and what he assumed was her own language. But he only noticed the differences because he knew her origin, and was unsure of how the Qunari was so quick to notice.

“Well?” The Iron Bull asked expectantly. Naomi licked her lips, crossing her arms over her stomach, eyes darting from the Qunari, to Cassandra, to him. Then Nassella sighed.

“I should have anticipated you would notice. Commander, I was going to tell all of you tonight, but Bull is Ben-Haasrath, a Qunari spy.” Cullen bristled, not liking the thought of an agent of the Qun so close the Herald. “In addition to his mercenary company, he is offering reports from his network, and he will report select information back, though he will run those by Leliana first.” Then she turned to the Qunari. “Bull, I’m going to tell you where Naomi is from, but this is something that you can’t report back… or tell anyone, really. Blackwall, you should listen as well…”

So Nassella told the Qunari spy and the Warden Naomi and James’ story, Naomi staying mostly silent, leaning against her horse, stroking her absentmindedly and wiping her eyes occasionally. Blackwall appeared stricken at the news, looking at Naomi with sympathy. The Iron Bull was angry, and looked to Naomi with concern.

“Shit,” he said shaking his head. “I knew the Breach was bad but… shit. And you’re holding up alright?” Naomi looked up at him, eyes slightly red.

“Yes, I’m alright,” she said, smiling a little at Nassella. The elf smiled back.

“Well,” Nassella said, “we should keep moving.” She turned to mount her horse, but Naomi spoke up.

“Do you mind walking? I don’t want to stress her out anymore today,” she said, patting the All-Bred’s side. Nassella nodded, dropping into step next to the human, Solas on her other side, leading the walk back to Haven.

“You haven’t named her yet?” Cullen heard Nassella ask. Naomi considered her horse.

“No… but I think I’ll call her Liberty, after today.” Cullen smirked. _Liberty… free, independent, unrestrained…._ It was an apt name for the animal who had refused every rider but the woman in front of him, and her just barely.

“I’ve got to tell you what we saw on the Storm Coast!” Nassella exclaimed brightly. “We were walking along the beach and there was a _dragon fighting a giant!_ You should have seen it…” Cullen wanted to listen more, but his attention was drawn away when the large Qunari matched his stride.

“You think she’s really alright?” The Iron Bull asked, voice dropped low. “Losing everything like that can’t be easy.”

“Yes, I believe so,” Cullen said, watching Naomi laughing and smiling with Nassella and Solas. “I really can’t say, however. She keeps mostly to herself when the Herald is not around.”

“Really?” the Qunari asked. “I usually go for redheads, but those eyes…” he chuckled. “No one would object to eyes like that in their bed. Surely she’s caught someone’s attention… or someone’s caught hers.” Cullen felt his face flush. Naomi was attractive, in her own way, her work with the horses giving her body a certain strength and grace. But she stood out because of her eyes. Once they were noticed it was hard to look away, and at the Qunari’s words he pictured her face flushed, those eyes hooded with desire…

Cullen cleared his throat, realizing with embarrassment his gaze had drifted to the subtle sway of Naomi’s hips beneath her long tunic. He chastised himself. _She has given no indication she wants that type of attention…_ He looked away, right into the face of the Qunari, who was grinning at him, eyebrow raised slightly above his one good eye. Cullen silently groaned.

Then he remembered the time he had seen her laughing and joking with one of the other stablehands… _Jaron,_ he remembered. _It seems someone_ has _caught her attention._ But it was not his place to speculate where she gave her affection. “I could not say,” he said instead to the Qunari, carefully keeping his voice neutral. He looked away from the man’s smug face, pointedly avoiding looking at the human woman ahead of him. He sought to change the subject.

“Her brother has eyes nearly as distinct as hers,” he said. The Iron Bull laughed loudly, causing those walking ahead of them to turn, eyebrows raised in question.

“My lucky day then!” the Qunari exclaimed, sending a wink toward Naomi. She frowned slightly, shaking her head before turning quickly back around. Confused, Cullen tried to clarify.

“I’m not sure I… He is currently in the Hinterlands...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty to admire in the meantime.” Then the Qunari looked at him thoughtfully. “The Boss didn’t mention you were a Templar,” he said.

“Former Templar,” Cullen said. The Iron Bull just laughed again, veering off to walk next to his men. Cullen frowned. He no longer wore the armor, and though he did not try to hide what he had been, he wondered what he had done to so quickly give himself away.


	22. Preparations

“I hope I made the right decision,” Nassella said as she placed a saddlebag on her mount. “Though walking into what is most certainly a trap doesn’t _feel_ right…”

“Well, I don’t know much, but I think you did,” Naomi replied, trying to reassure the elf, checking the horses hooves for signs of distress.

“It’s just… everyone was arguing, and then they wanted _me_ to decide what to do!” Nassella exclaimed, checking the straps on the saddle one last time.

“You are the one who has to actually close the Breach… I would be worried if they didn’t ask what you thought.”

“It’s still strange to be treated as… equal… by humans. I never expected them to be so accepting.” Naomi felt a tug at her heart at Nassella’s words. She caught the elf’s eye and gave her a small smile.

“Don’t be surprised by that Ness. It’s… stupid that humans think they are better than elves. Your advisors ask your opinion because you’re intelligent and good at making decisions.”

Nassella blushed slightly, the tips of her pointed ears turning red. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m the only one who can close the Breach?” she said skeptically, looking at her left hand sourly. Naomi sighed.

“I don’t know for sure… but I don’t think so, at least, not anymore. They respect you Nassella… everyone does. You should hear the way people talk about you around camp.” Nassella’s blush deepened, though she smiled slightly. But then she frowned, and sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall of the stable.

“I just… can’t believe I’m going to negotiate with a _Tevinter_ magister. Do you know how many elves he probably keeps as slaves? I can’t believe the mages… what were they thinking?!” the elf said angrily, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Naomi took a seat next to her friend, leaning her head against the wall.

“I think,” she said carefully, “that the mages were desperate, and Tevinter may have looked like the best option.” She flinched slightly when Nassella turned her anger toward her, green eyes narrowed.

“How can you say that!? There should be no excuse for supporting slavery!”

“I’m not saying that!” Naomi quickly said. “You’re right, there is no excuse for slavery. My own country... had slavery for many years. I can’t say what it’s like to be part of a group with a history of slavery… but I know the effects are still felt today. And even though it’s supposed to be illegal, it still happens everywhere! It’s horrible and awful and… one of the worst things I can think of,” she said, throat tightening with emotion. Nassella sighed and thumped her head back against the wall.

“I know you weren’t… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Naomi said. “You have nothing to apologize for.” They sat in silence for a few seconds, then Naomi continued. “What I meant was… People here grow up, hearing from the day they are born that mages are dangerous, lesser people. And children who turn out to be mages are then torn from their homes and families, taken to Circles where they are stripped of most of their freedoms, told what to do by the Chantry. Is it so strange to think mages would look to Tevinter, where mages are free and actually _rule_ , and hope that they could be part of that, or think that they would find sympathy there?”

“No… I suppose it isn’t,” Nassella said hesitantly.

“Mages are people, and want what everyone else wants: respect, and the ability to make their own choices. Being able to use magic is beyond their control, but because of some fluke of their birth, they are stripped of their… agency… and treated like children who need to be watched constantly. Yes, people can do terrible things with magic… but people can do horrible things with swords. People aren’t inherently bad, we are shaped by our experiences… and from what I’ve heard, Circles don’t seem to encourage good experiences.”

“All right, all right,” Nassella said with a smirk, “I get it… but I still don’t think it was a good idea for them to go to Tevinter.”

Naomi shrugged. “Understanding _why_ people do things doesn’t mean they are right… but if you consider what motivated people to do certain things… you may be able to make changes, or avoid the same mistakes in the future.”

Nassella glanced at her, raising her eyebrows. “For someone who hasn’t been here that long, you certainly seem to have thought a lot about this.” Naomi laughed, though it was slightly hallow.

“I’m playing catch-up here, trying to fit twenty-five… sorry, twenty-six year’s worth of culture, experiences, and education into a few months. All I do is think about these things!” she explained.

“You’re doing a good job… you’ve probably thought about this more than most people here,” Nassella said.

“I don’t want any reason for someone to question whether I belong.” Nassella nodded in understanding, then smiled at her.

“I think you’re fitting in just fine… and your brother too. At least… I think he is, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Naomi turned her mind to James. She had thought he had been doing well, but the conversation they had had before he left for the Hinterlands made her question that assumption.

_“Be careful James… sometimes you do things before you think.”_

_“Stop worrying about me so much… I’ll be fine.”_

_“I know… I know… it’s just... I love you… and I’ll miss you.”_

_James had said nothing as he finished packing his bag, and Naomi had sat on the ground next to him, burying her head in her arms._

_“This is my chance,” he had finally said. “I can show that I can do this… that I belong here...”_

_Naomi had looked to her brother, seeing his face pinched in thought. “James… you don’t have to prove anything…”_

_“I want to,” he had answered shortly, then finished his packing and stood, walking away. Naomi had watched him leave, water pooling in her eyes. But after a few steps her brother had stopped and turned._

_“I’ll miss you too.”_

Naomi looked at Nassella and sighed. “I thought he was but… I’m not so sure anymore. He’s always been so… confident. He went through a rough few years during school, trying to decide what he wanted to do, but he had it figured out! He was going to get married, move to a new city… he finally knew what he wanted to do, and now he has to start over. I think coming here was harder on him than I thought.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Naomi hugged her knees tight, trying to warm her body. The weather had turned the night before, a front from the south bringing colder temperatures and rain. It was not snowing yet in Haven, but Naomi knew it would be snowing in the mountains. And soon it would be winter. _I’m going to need some warmer clothes…_

“I’ll never understand you Southerners,” a cheerful voice exclaimed, and Naomi looked up to see the mage Dorian walking down the length of the stables. He gestured largely with a hand. “Two beautiful women, finding it acceptable to wallow on the stable floors. Unfathomable!” Nassella rolled her eyes, but smirked slightly, standing from the floor and dusting the straw from her leathers.

“Neither of us are from Ferelden, Dorian,” she said as Naomi stood next to her.

“Free Marches, Anderfels… all south of Tevinter,” Dorian dismissed with a wave of his hand. Naomi couldn’t help but stare at the man. He was handsome… very handsome. And he had a moustache, carefully groomed into curls at the ends, a moustache she never expected to see in reality. But it worked, in a way, with his unique hair and clothes, and his… slightly over-the-top disposition. There was something about him she liked, and she could see that Nassella was not immune to his charms, despite his Tevinter origins.

“Well if you are quite finished, I believe that warrior… what’s her name? Serious woman, gets a knot between her eyes when she looks at me…”

“Cassandra?”

“Yes! Cassandra! Seems very eager to get going, although I don’t understand why, us running into the arms of an evil Tevinter Magister and all.”

Nassella gasped. “Yes, yes… of course! Sorry Naomi, but I need to get going… All my bags are packed?”

Naomi double checked the saddle, patting the horse on the neck. “Yes, everything looks good.” She smiled at the elf. “You’ll do great… I know you will.” Nassella smiled back, then threw her arms around Naomi’s neck. She gasped, taking a step back, throwing a surprised look toward Dorian. The mage just smirked.

“Oh, please, don’t mind me.” Naomi brought her arms hesitantly around the elf’s shoulders, returning the hug, then dropped her arms the moment Nassella began to pull away. Nassella turned to Dorian.

“Alright, let’s go… I have a date with a Magister.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dorian said cheerfully as they walked from the stable. Naomi watched them leave, worry gnawing at her gut. But as she returned to her chores, she tried to quash the feeling. _You worry too much…_

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James looked back, rolling his eyes when he saw how far behind the others were. _As if wandering the Hinterlands in the rain wasn’t bad enough… do we have to go slowly?_ He stood under a tree, partially sheltered from the water falling from the sky, and waited for the others. He had thought his assignment in the Hinterlands would be more… exciting. And he supposed it had the potential to be… they were searching for rogue demons after all. But Nassella and her friends had done a remarkable job of making the Hinterlands safe, and their patrols were more a show for the occupants of the area than anything else.

“I don’t know how you do it, James,” one of his companions, Conrad, said when he caught up, leaning against the tree to catch his breath. “I grew up here and can’t run around these hills like you do.” James just smiled and handed the other man his canteen.

“I don’t know what to say,” James replied, taking the canteen back when Conrad was finished. And he couldn’t explain it, he realized, as the rest of the group caught up and they continued through the woods. He had always been in shape… but training here had made him stronger than he had ever been before, and more quickly. _It’s probably just the intensity of the training… every day, all day…_

But that didn’t explain why he seemed to tire more slowly than everyone else. On patrol, he was always out front, waiting for the others. And at night, his companions complained about blisters and sore muscles, but he never had to, because he never had those things. _Can’t say I’m sorry about that though..._

The hours and miles passed, and they found nothing, just like every day before. James was frustrated. He was learning nothing new, and helping no one, stuck running the same drills when at the Crossroads as he had in Haven, interspersed with days of hiking. _At least in Haven I knew people…_

Something snorted ahead of him and James stopped, realizing he had pulled ahead of the others again. The sound had come from the other side of a boulder, and though James could not see what made the sound, he thought he recognized it as a bear. They had seen many of the animals at a distance on their travels, but had managed to avoid them. James unsheathed his sword, pulling his shield from his back. _This is it, I can do this… if that thing comes around the boulder… I’ll kill it…_

He stood for a tense moment, body coiled and ready to strike, but nothing emerged. He heard the snorts occasionally, but whatever made them stayed frustratingly hidden. James stole a glance behind him, but his companions were nowhere to be seen. He turned back around and adjusted his grip, taking a hesitant step forward… then another, more confident one. Heart racing he peered around the rocks, straining his neck to see what he was facing…

And groaned, dropping his weapons to his side. It wasn’t a bear… but a ram, pawing at the ground and snorting. But when it saw James it turned and ran, kicking up rocks as it scrambled up a slick slope. _How the fuck did I think that was a bear…?_

James heard voices behind him and quickly put his shield and sword away, not wanting the others to question why he had them out. He had told Naomi this would be his chance… he could finally figure out what he was going to do here. But he was proving nothing on this trip, except that he apparently couldn’t tell a ram from a bear…

“James! There you are,” Conrad said, walking up and slapping his shoulder. “You had us worried for a moment.’

“No need,” James said. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing out here.”

“That may be, but you should stay with the group… just in case.” James just nodded, holding himself back until he was at the back of the group. They started up a particularly big hill and James wanted to groan as he took one slow step after another, trying to contain his frustration at the pace. When they finally reached the top James sighed in relief. Through the mist and rain he could see the Crossroads, nestled in the valley with small fires blinking in welcome. Returning to the Crossroads after their days in the field meant fresh food and fresh clothes, sleeping with a roof over his head, a chance to get warm and dry after days of cold and damp…

But first, they had to descend the slope, find Corporal Vale, give their report…

James wanted to groan again. He was beginning to realize, months after the fact, that joining an army meant entering the hierarchy, reporting to his superiors, following orders and losing many opportunities to make his own decisions. The structure was maddening.

_But I’m doing this for David… and for Naomi, and for me. We didn’t deserve this…_

When his unit found Corporal Vale they gave their report… which was essentially nothing to report. “You won’t be going back out for a few days,” Corporal Vale told them when the unit leader was finished. “The Herald came through today, heading for Redcliffe. She’s approaching the mages for aid with the Breach, but it may go bad. We need to be ready to move on the castle at a moment’s notice.” James walked away feeling slightly sick to his stomach. It was one thing to prepare for small skirmishes, but the prospect of a full out war, he realized, terrified him.

_Just remember why you’re doing this…_


	23. In Hushed Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been updating pretty quickly recently... don't get used to it!

Nassella sputtered and spit out the water that had found its way into her mouth. She grimaced and looked around the dim room, trying to determine what had happened. She had been meeting with Alexius when he had pulled out an amulet and opened a rift. Then there was a flash of green, and now she found herself on all fours, nearly swimming in murky water, giant crystals of red lyrium shedding ghastly light throughout the chamber. She heard splashes to her left and turned to see Dorian next to her, clearly unamused with their situation.

“Blood of the Elder One!” she heard someone say, and looked forward, finding two men in armor standing by the door.

“Where’d they come from?” the other asked before both rushed toward them. Nassella stood and grabbed her daggers, stepping deftly aside at her attacker’s first blow, circling behind the man before burying a blade in his neck. He dropped to his knees and when she looked up, the other had fallen stunned to the floor by a shock from Dorian’s staff. Nassella quickly finished him off before he could come to, then turned to Dorian.

“What happened?!” she asked. The mage walked around the room, hand to his chin.

“Interesting. It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to what? The closest compliments of arcane energy…?” he muttered as he knelt in the water.

“The last thing I remember we were in the castle hall,” Nassella said as she looked over his shoulder, trying to see what he had found. But the mage stood, turning to her, brow furrowed in thought.

“Let’s see… if we’re still in the castle, it isn’t… Ah! Of course, it’s not simply where, it’s when. Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!” Nassella felt her mouth drop open. _Is that even possible…?_

But they _were_ still in the castle, and there had been no red lyrium before. Dorian was right. If they were in the same location, then their place in time must have changed.

But that led to more questions. “Did we go forward in time, or back, and how far?”

Dorian raised his staff. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” He walked over to one of the guards, rifling through his clothing, producing a set of keys. “Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we’ll figure out how to get back… if we can.” Nassella looked through the other guards clothing, but found nothing of interest.

“What was Alexius trying to do?” Nassella asked as Dorian unlocked the door to the room they were in.

Dorian turned back to her. “I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely, so you could not be at the Temple of Sacred Ashes to mangle the Elder One’s plan. But your surprise at the castle made him reckless, and he tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild, and now, here we are. Make sense?”

Nassella’s head was spinning. _Is this what Naomi and James felt like?_ “No… but, believe it or not, it’s not the craziest thing I’ve seen done with rifts.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Crazier than time travel? Well, I simply _must_ hear that story.”

Nassella walked past him into the hall. She was still wary of Dorian, and even though he had been willing to help with Alexius, she wasn’t ready to reveal to him that the creation of the Breach had pulled people from another world. “If we make it out of this, I might… you do have a plan to get us back, I hope.”

“I have some thoughts on that,” Dorian said as he followed her up a flight of stairs. “They’re like lovely little jewels…” Nassella couldn’t help but smirk. _Thrown gods know where in time, and still making jokes…_

It quickly became evident they were in the castle’s dungeons, the walls of the rooms they investigated lined with cells, bodies strewn across the floors and red lyrium growing everywhere. Nassella felt sick at the sight. Most of the cells were empty, and the first live prisoner they found chanting endlessly, unable or unwilling to respond to her questions.

But then they found Fiona, and Nassella’s nausea increased. The elf was alive… but her body was disfigured, red lyrium appearing to grow directly from her flesh. But she could speak, and revealed that the lyrium was being mined from the corpses of those who had succumbed to its growth. _No wonder Varric wants it destroyed…_

Nassella had renewed vigor in her steps as they left the elf, Fiona telling them they had been thrown a year into the future, the Elder One apparently more powerful than the Maker. _We need to get back… we need to stop this!_

“Dorian, do you really think you can fix this, if we find the amulet?”

“As I said before… maybe.”

Nassella sighed. “Well, we don’t have any other options. But we need to find Leliana first…” They were more methodical as they continued their search through the cells, not wanting to miss the Spymaster and their chance for assistance. As she approached the final door in one of the halls, Nassella heard a muffled voice through the wood. She pulled a blade from its sheath, pushing the door open cautiously. But there were no guards, and Nassella recognized the voice once she entered, though it echoed hollowly with each syllable. Nassella turned to her right and saw Cassandra sitting on the floor of a cell, reciting the Chant of Light.

The warrior was thin and pale, her eyes turned to glowing red, face surrounded by a red haze. _Red lyrium…_ Nassella felt tears at the sight, and her reaction surprised her. She had not realized how fond she had grown of the stern warrior, but seeing her broken and battered like this made it obvious that she cared more than she thought.

“Alexius sent us forward in time,” Dorian told Cassandra as the warrior stood. “If we find him, we may be able to return to the present.”

“Go back in time… Then… can you make it so that none of this ever took place?” Cassandra asked, her voice full of desperate hope. Nassella looked at the warrior’s eyes, sick with lyrium, and felt her body course with anger.

“And I’ll make sure Alexius suffers for this… I promise.” Nassella turned away, unable to look at Cassandra any longer, her hands shaking with rage. _This is why Tevinter cannot be trusted…_

A sound from further in the room caught Nassella’s attention. She moved to check the other cells, and when she found the source of the noise she nearly lost control, and had to take a few deep breaths to keep herself from bursting into tears.

Solas was in the cell, and though his back was turned, Nassella knew he would be just as hollow and frail as Cassandra. Nassella hesitated, unsure if she could look at him in this state, unsure if she could look at the man she was falling in love with, who not only tolerated, but patiently answered all of her questions, who fought by her side against demons and bandits, mages and Templars alike, who frustrated her and challenged her to think about things differently, in this way. He was unlike anyone she had ever met, and she couldn’t bear to see him so close to death.

_But I can’t bear to leave him behind..._

Nassella went to open his cell, and Solas turned, looking at her with a mixture of awe and hope that left her unable to speak.  

“You’re alive,” he said, as if unable to believe his own words. “We saw you die.” And when Dorian explained how they came to be there, the elven mage immediately understood the implications of their travelling through time, directing them toward the throne room where Alexius had barricaded himself.

But they still had to find Leliana, and so their search continued. The dungeons were large, but Nassella sensed they were reaching their end when they found the guard’s dining room. Worried they had missed her, Nassella stuck her head into the next hallway, trying to see if the cells continued. But then she heard a voice echoing down the hallway, from a closed door at its end, and as she got closer a second voice joined the first, and Nassella recognized the unmistakable sounds of Leliana being tortured and questioned. Quickly, Nassella burst through the door, pausing to assess the situation. Leliana was hanging from the ceiling, the man interrogating her turning when Nassella entered, but before she could pull out her blades, Leliana had her legs wrapped around her torturer’s neck, snapping it with ease. Quickly, Nassella went to release her, rifling through the guard’s pockets for the keys.

“You’re alive,” Leliana whispered as she dropped to the floor.

“Yes,” Nassella said, looking into Leliana’s eyes, the woman’s face appearing to have aged decades in the year that had passed. “We were sent into the future… this was never meant to be. If we get back to the present and stop Alexius, then you’ll never have to go through this.” Someone coughed behind her, and when Nassella turned she felt her heart wrench. _I don’t know if I can take any more of this…_

James was chained against the back wall, thin and dirty, though he appeared free of red lyrium infection. Nassella ran to his side, using the keys from the guard to unshackle his arms from the wall.

“James, are you alright? Why do they have you here?”

James looked at her, eyes entirely bright green and hard beneath is strong brow. “They found out where we’re from… The Elder One wants to use us to get to our world. They’ve been questioning us…”

Nassella stared at him with wide eyes. _No… this must never happen… anywhere._

“What does he mean, his world?” Dorian asked. Nassella jumped, unaware that the mage had been so close. She and James stood, and Nassella turned to Dorian, unsure of what to say. _Should I tell him...? This is what we feared, the knowledge of travelling to other worlds in the wrong hands. But Dorian is trying to help… I’m trusting him to get us back, I have to trust him with this._

“Exactly that. James and his sister are from another world. They were pulled here when the Breach was created.”

Dorian’s eyes flew wide in surprise. “Is that what you meant by your cryptic comment from earlier? That other worlds exist?” Nassella just nodded, thinking the mage sounded a little too excited, considering the circumstances. _I hope I wasn’t mistaken in telling him…_

“And mages wonder why people fear them,” Leliana said to Dorian. “No one should have this power.”

“It’s dangerous and unpredictable, yes, but before the Breach, nothing we did…”

“Enough!” Leliana spat. “This is all pretend to you. You were not torn from your home, you did not suffer this future. But I suffered, James suffered, the whole world suffered. It was real. And now, the Elder One wants to make other worlds suffer.” Dorian said nothing. In the silence, something nagged at the back of Nassella’s mind, and then she finally registered what James had said.

“We?” she asked, already fearful of the answer. James turned and walked to the lone cell in the room, indicating for Nassella to open it. Once inside, James crossed to the back corner, bent down and gently touched the arm of a woman leaning against the wall. Nassella followed slowly, knowing in her heart that it was Naomi. _I really can’t take any more of this…_

The woman was incredibly thin, her skin pale, any trace of her freckles gone. She wore nothing but a thin shift, and Nassella could see she was covered in bruises. At James touch she had lifted her head slightly and opened her eyes, which were just as bright green as her brother’s.

“James?” she asked, a whisper so soft Nassella had a hard time hearing. James brushed her hair behind an ear and tried to smile, though it came across as more of a grimace.

“Yes… everything’s going to be alright. Nassella’s here.” Naomi closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

“How did they find out?” Nassella asked. James didn’t look from his sister’s face.

“No one probably would have… if we could be killed more easily,” he said bitterly. Nassella frowned, trying to process what he had said.

“What do you mean…?” she began to ask, but James stood and grabbed her dagger from her hand, and before she could stop him he had sliced open his arm, muscle exposed to the bone, blood dripping to the floor. Nassella cried out, but before she could question why James would hurt himself so, she saw the wound glow slightly green, and before her eyes it closed, skin and muscles stitched back together, leaving nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. Dumbfounded, Nassella watched as James turned next to Naomi, grabbing her arm and repeating the motion, the woman never flinching. But instead of creating a cut and healing, Naomi’s skin did not break, the blade running across her arm as if it were dull as a stick, a faint glow of green marking the trail where a wound should have been.

“What I mean,” James said, turning to look at her, his bright green eyes burning with anger, “is that something happened when we went through the Breach, and because of that, we didn’t die with everyone else.”

Nassella stared at his healed arm, momentarily unable to speak, trying to grasp the implications. Finally, she found her voice.

“Are you saying you can’t die?” she asked, disbelieving.

James handed her back the dagger, grimacing slightly. “No… I’m sure we can. But I heal quickly… almost instantly, though I get tired when it happens a lot.” He turned to Naomi. “She’s different. She doesn’t heal like I do… She gets hurt, but only beneath the skin. We _will_ die. It will just… take more.”

Nassella took the offered blade, unsure of which one of her many questions to ask next. But Cassandra’s tongue was not so tied, and when she spoke, Nassella turned to see everyone peering into the cell. “Are you mages?” the warrior asked, voice accusatory.

“No,” Solas said, edging his way toward James, taking his arm to inspect it. “They are no mages.” He shot a glimmer of magic across James’s skin. Nassella almost smiled. Almost. _Even in this horrible future, he’s still the curious, scholarly apostate…_

Solas dropped James’s arm and looked at his face. “And your eyes are now entirely green… It seems you were not as unaffected by your physical journey through the Fade as I had thought. I knew Naomi’s mind had a strange interaction with the Fade, but it seems the very natures of your bodies have been changed...” Solas shook his head. “Fascinating.”

“They’ve been touched by the Fade!” Dorian said excitedly. “I’ve read of other things…”

“We have no time to discuss these details,” Leliana interrupted harshly. “We must find Alexius before the Elder One arrives.” The Spymaster turned to walk away, followed by the rest of the group. Nassella knew Leliana was right, but crouched down by Naomi again, taking one of her hands. The woman didn’t seem to register the touch.

“Can she come with us?” she whispered to James. He shook his head, jaw tense, and crouched next to his sister.

“She’s too weak… she has been sick for weeks.” Nassella looked more closely at Naomi and realized it was true. Her eyes were glazed with fever, her brow wet with sweat. She may not have fallen to the cut of a blade, but it was clear she was not immune to illness.

“You said you were discovered because you did not die…”

“When you died, or when we thought you died, Cullen sent everything he could against the Venatori in the castle. In actual combat I realized very quickly that my injuries would heal… but we were outnumbered, and I was eventually captured. My wounds healing right in front of them led to questions. One of the others I was caught with told them I had a sister... I don’t know how they found her though… but she came in with Leliana.” James looked at Naomi and sighed, bending down to take her other hand. “They tried to discover why we could do these things… then one day, someone overheard us talking in our language, and knew we weren’t from Thedas. We were questioned, to find out where we were from. Neither of us said anything…” He trailed off, looking at Naomi with a tenderness Nassella had never seen from the man.

“But…?”

James took a deep breath. “But then they tortured me in front of her and… she told them everything.” Nassella saw him rub his thumb slowly across his sister’s hand, and realized he was not angry with her.  He shook his head bitterly. “If we would have just _died_ like normal people, the Elder One would never know about our world… and wouldn’t be trying to get there.” Nassella put a hand on his arm.

“I’m going to fix this James, no one will know… this future will never happen.” James set his jaw and nodded.

“Then we need to go.” He looked back at Naomi and turned her head toward him. She fluttered her eyes open and gave him a small smile. “I’ll be back Naomi… we’re going to go fix this.” Then he bent down and kissed her forehead before standing and walking away. Nassella was slightly shocked. The two had always seemed distant, and though she knew Naomi loved her brother, such affection from James was unexpected. _If only I could see that relationship in our time…_

Nassella was about to stand when Naomi’s grip on her hand suddenly tightened. Surprised at the strength still left in the woman, Nassella looked at Naomi, the woman’s eyes suddenly clear. “Ness,” she said, green eyes pleading. “Don’t blame the mages…. they didn’t know,” she whispered, dropping her hand. Nassella stayed for a moment watching Naomi’s face. She _had_ to blame someone for this, and the mages had welcomed the magister…

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever,” Naomi whispered, almost as a prayer, though Nassella was not sure whether the woman knew she was still there. She stood and turned, her heart sinking lower with every step she walked away. _The best way to help her, to help everyone, is to fix this_ , she reminded herself.

The others were all ready to continue, Leliana digging out a bow and quiver from a chest, James strapping a large sword to his back. “The Magister’s probably in his chambers,” Leliana said as she led the way from the room. Before Nassella could follow, James had grabbed her arm, looking intensely into her eyes.

“When you get back… talk to Naomi. Try to convince her to learn to defend herself.” Nassella frowned.

“She doesn’t want to fight.” James shook his head, letting her go.

“I know, but… she won’t listen to me. She needs to learn, so this never happens to her.” Nassella glanced back toward the cell, unable to deny that she agreed with James.

“I can try…” she said slowly, “but I can’t make her.” James started walking.

“Just try,” he said gruffly. Nassella shook her head and followed.

They were finally out of the dungeon, moving up, through the castle, the mark on Nassella’s hand pulsing uncomfortably with each step she took forward. And soon she discovered why.

They had encountered a rift soon after exiting the dungeons, but leaving the confines of the castle for the courtyard revealed that closing these small rifts would be, ultimately, useless in this future. The Breach was massive, dominating every corner of the sky, the line between the world and the Fade destroyed. Solas had once described what a world without the Veil could be like, but Nassella doubted this was what he had in mind.

And, as they ran through the royal wings, searching for a way to enter the main hall where Alexius had barricaded himself, Nassella felt she finally realized how crucial closing the Breach was. She had known it was important, but never in her worst nightmares had she considered the future could look like _this_ if it was not _._ She also realized, with a touch of sadness, that returning to her home, to her clan, once the Breach was closed was not an option. This Elder One, whoever he was, had to be stopped, and clearly had more plans for the future than just the tear in the Veil. Her work would not be done once the Breach was sealed.

Dorian picked up a final red lyrium shard from a dead mage. “I think we have enough to open the door…” Nassellla carefully took the piece of glowing crystal, putting it in a pouch with the others.

“Then let’s go. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

When they were back in front of the door to the main hall Nassella paused, collecting her thoughts. She was unsure of what she would find beyond the door, but she had to trust, looking at those gathered behind her, that they could face it.

But it would not be easy. They were broken, using their last remnants of energy to get her and Dorian to Alexius. Cassandra had always been fierce in battle, but Nassella had never seen her fight with such fervor. Solas yielded his magic with ease, and she loved to watch him, but here, his focus was frightening. And though she had never seen Leliana fight, she was impressed with how the Spymaster moved gracefully across the battlefield, just as she moved through Haven. Dorian was somewhat less… controlled than Vivienne or Solas, but he was a talented mage and certainly got the job done. And that left James, who was proving to be a formidable warrior, now that she actually saw him fight.

Nassella glanced at the human man, wincing slightly at the sight of him. He had no armor, as the others did, and she knew his unique ability was the only thing keeping him going, despite his talent at dodging most attacks. But she noticed, now that she had a moment to pause and actually _look_ at him, that there were limitations to what he could do. He had said that he got tired when he healed a lot… and he had been weak when they started. His wounds, she realized, were no longer healing completely, scabbed lines crossing his exposed arms. He was running out of energy… they all were.

Nassella steeled herself, shoving the lyrium shards into the door, and entered the chamber.

 

\----- 

 

“You move, and we all die!”

Nassella looked back to Dorian, as he worked to reopen the rift and hesitated. _They’re dying… I can’t let them…_

A screech from the front of the chamber drew her attention back, and she felt tears in her eyes at the sight of Cassandra’s still body by the door, no sign of Solas anywhere. Venatori and demons were streaming into the room, and the only thing standing between her and the horde was Leliana with her arrows and James with his sword.

Nassella took another step forward but felt a hand on her arm, yanking her back. She resisted, but the hand remained firm. She watched Leliana loose arrow after arrow, and when her quiver was empty, attack with nothing but her bow. James swung his sword with more strength than she expected him still to possess, no longer guarding his body, wounds barely healing enough to stop the flow of blood. She watched, helpless, as he confronted a terror demon, landing two good blows before a clawed hand ripped across his chest. The wounds flickered green, then stopped, and James fell to his knees. Nassella caught a cry in her throat, but Dorian tugged her back, and as green filled her vision, she saw Leliana overwhelmed, demon ripping across her body with its claws…

Nassella blinked, heart pounding in her ears. She looked around, at the hall in Redcliffe Castle, Cassandra and Solas, alive, standing at the foot of the stairs, Dorian by her side. And in front of her Alexius, falling to his knees.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian said. Nassella felt her hands shaking, but the mark was quiet, and she knew the Breach was still stable.

“Is that… the best you’ve got?” she asked, taking a deep breath. _It’s over… we’re back._ She looked to Solas and felt her breath catch. _They’re all safe…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revelation 21:4
> 
> I’m pretty sure I’m officially wandering off into non-canon territory here, but this was one of the first ideas I had, so I’m sticking to it. 
> 
> Ok... so this is where I'm coming from with all of this. It's non-canon, but I already jumped off that boat by using characters from the modern world...  
> I was inspired by all of the fade-touched crafting materials from the game. Basically, I see it as these things are exposed to the Fade, and their basic nature is changed because of that, and some aspect of what they already do is enhanced. This includes things like animal hides, which means the living animal was fade-touched (in my mind). So, James and Naomi were in the Fade, exposed to the energy of the Breach, and some of the abilities of what bodies do (like skin acting as a barrier and healing) were enhanced because of that.  
> And I changed a line in the previous chapter, because I never meant to imply that they couldn't die. There are a lot of other ways to die, and they can still get injured, as you saw above.  
> I think I've covered all my bases here, and if something still doesn't make sense, there's a good chance I'll cover it in a future chapter. Like I said, this was one of my first ideas, so I've thought about it a lot...
> 
> Also, quite a bit of dialogue from the game used here, all property of Bioware.


	24. Fade-Touched

Naomi sighed, pulling her blanket up closer to her chin. She breathed deeply, pulling in the scent of the hay from the stables, and considered that she should get up, start her day. But she was so w _arm_. The moment she got up, she would be shivering all day, exposed to the chill autumn temperatures. It was not an appealing prospect, so she snuggled even further under her blanket.

As she shifted, she became aware of the body behind her, the source of the warmth. And at the same time, she realized that instead of his back pressed against hers, Jaron had turned during the night, an arm thrown across her body, pulling them close together. She tensed, suddenly wide awake, but resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

She’d done just that, the first time this had happened. Jaron had convinced her that sleeping next to each other, sharing blankets, was the best way to stay warm, now that the season had turned. But he kept turning during the night, and Naomi woke up far more than she had anticipated with him spooning her. He had apologized profusely that first morning, assuring her it wouldn’t happen again, but she’d slept alone for a couple of nights after that. However, as night temperatures continued to drop, she had relented, and they were back to sharing body heat during the night. They always started out back to back, but more and more frequently it seemed, they didn’t end that way in the morning. She didn’t think it was intentional on his part. Jaron never seemed to be still, and that extended to his sleeping habits. But she knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

And she had to admit that she was starting to like it. Not only was he warm, but knowing Jaron was there was… comforting, more comforting than she ever could have imagined. She’d felt alone for months, thought she would never be able to make friends. But not anymore, not after meeting him.

She felt him shift, and squirmed away, not yet willing to let him realize how comfortable she was with their arrangement. He pulled away fully, groaning while he stretched behind her. Naomi sat up.

“You did it again,” she said, shivering in the morning air.

“Sorry,” Jaron mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Thanks for not hitting me,” he added. Naomi smirked, pulling her shoes over to put them on.

“I wanted to,” she admitted.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Jaron asked.

“Exercise day!” Naomi said excitedly. It was her favorite task, making sure the horses stayed in shape and got a chance to run. It essentially meant she got a chance to play.

Several hours later, Naomi, face scoured by the wind and thighs and butt sore from riding, pushed her mount toward Haven at a run, Jaron at her side. Laughing, she urged her horse faster, pulling ahead of Jaron, weaving around a cart blocking the road. She reached the edge of the tents and slowed to a stop, allowing Jaron to catch up.

“I wasn’t aware this was a race!” he shouted as he approached. Naomi grinned.

“It wouldn’t really be a competition if it was,” she joked. Jaron scoffed.

“I could take you, anytime!” Naomi directed her horse toward the camp, Jaron falling into step beside her.

“Next round, we’ll race for real,” she promised.

As they passed the training grounds, Naomi took the opportunity to look for Cullen, finding him leading drills as he did nearly every day. He was walking along the line, hand on his sword, watching the troops with a look of concentration on his face. His brows were pulled together in a slight frown, but he nodded in approval at what he saw. He turned his head slightly in her direction, and Naomi quickly looked away.

Her eyes fell to the next closest figure. It was Alec, and she flushed when she realized he was looking back, arms crossed over his chest. She turned back toward Jaron, unsettled by the Templar’s intense gaze.

The Iron Bull was lounging at the stable entrance when they returned. Naomi slipped from her horse’s back, walking the animal toward the stable.

“You look good out there,” Bull said when she got close. “It’s hard to believe you just started riding a few months ago.” Naomi stopped and smiled at the giant Qunari, patting the horse’s neck affectionately. Jaron continued into the building.

“Thanks. I never realized how fun riding horses would be, and wish I’d learned back home.” The Bull cocked his head to the side.

“Why didn’t you?” Naomi shrugged.

“I didn’t need to. Horses weren’t used for transportation where I lived anymore.” She thought back to her world. “I did have an uncle who herded cattle with a horse, but he was the minority. Most people who rode horses just did it for fun.” She smiled at the horse, then at the Bull. “Honestly, I still like riding for fun mostly.” The Qunari chuckled, and raised the eyebrow above his good eye.

“Do you ever think about riding anything else?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble and a smirk tugging at his lips. Naomi’s mind when momentarily blank, something in his tone flustering her unexpectedly. She shook her head, turning to stare at the horse’s neck.

“Um… well… Nassella mentioned getting a hart… That would probably be cool to ride…” She finally replied. The Bull let out a full-bodied laugh, pushing off of the stable to place a large hand on the horse’s side.

“I’m sure it would!” he said enthusiastically, good eye twinkling down at her while he smiled. She laughed back. “We should eat together tonight. I’d like to hear more about your world,” he said. Naomi raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Only if you want,” he added quickly. Naomi grinned. With Nassella and James gone, it would be nice to have someone to talk to about her home. And Bull seemed… genuinely interested.

“I’d like that,” she told the giant man.

 

\----- 

 

Naomi was eating an apple when Nassella returned. Offering the rest of the half-eaten fruit to Liberty, she ran from the stables to help unpack the party’s mounts, relief washing over her to know that the elf was back safely. Word had been sent ahead, so all of Haven knew she was returning with a full alliance with the mages, but Naomi had still been uneasy. But now, seeing Nassella in person…

She stopped when she saw the elf, immediately worried. Nassella had dark circles under her eyes, and walked with hunched shoulders. _Something’s wrong…_

She went to take the reins of Nassella’s horse, but Nassella grabbed her arm. “No,” she said as she steered her toward Haven. “Someone else can do that. We have to talk to you.”

Confused, Naomi followed. “We can talk while I get your horse settled…” Nassella shook her head.

“In private,” she said shortly. Something was clearly bothering her, so Naomi followed silently. A glance behind her revealed that Solas and Dorian were following, and she was surprised when they entered Nassella’s cabin as well.

Naomi turned to the elf, watching as Nassella wearily removed some of the larger pieces of her armor, then sat cross-legged on the floor. “I never thought I would call Haven home… but I am really glad to be back,” she said, head bowed in her hands to the floor. Naomi glanced worriedly at Solas, but he offered no answers, looking as worried as the other elf. Naomi sat in front of Nassella.

“Are you alright,” she asked. “Is there something…”

“No,” Nassella said, looking up. “I’ll be fine… I’m just tired.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I, well, we need to talk to you about something,” she said, gesturing to the two mages.

“I know you both enjoy the floor, but could we stand for this exercise? These clothes were not made for sitting,” Dorian said, voice light. Nassella gave him a weary smirk, but rose from the floor. Naomi followed. Nassella grabbed her arm and looked into her eyes.

“Do you trust me?” she asked earnestly. Naomi hesitated a moment, but then nodded.

“Of course.” Nassella smiled wearily, and took a knife from her belt. Naomi tensed.

“Trust me,” Nassalla said quietly, bringing the knife to her skin. Naomi pulled her arm away.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes wide. Nassella sighed.

“Sorry… it’s just really hard to explain without showing you first. I promise you won’t get hurt.” Naomi studied the elf for a second, finding no malice in her gaze. Letting out a breath Naomi offered her arm once more, bracing herself for the cut.

But it never came, though she felt the blade across her skin. She stared at her unmarred arm. “How…?”

“Would you like to start?” Nassella asked Dorian. The Tevinter mage clapped his hands together.

“Of course! It is a most fascinating subject, after all…”

Naomi silently listened as Dorian excitedly talked of the Fade, and its effects it could have on the physical world, that objects sometimes, after prolonged exposure to it, could acquire enhanced abilities. Solas jumped in at that point, telling her that travelling physically through the Fade _had_ affected her, and James, and that they were now ‘Fade-touched’, in a sense, their bodies altered by the raw power they had encountered when pulled through the Breach. And then Nassella briefly described how she had come to discover Naomi and her brother could do this, saying she had encountered them in some sort of dark future. Naomi stared at her arm, tracing the line where Nassella had tried to cut.

“That’s why James got strong so quickly,” she whispered.

“Why is that?” Nassella asked. Naomi shook her head, looking up.

“Muscles… they tear when they are used, but heal back stronger… if James heals quickly, he builds muscle faster.” She looked back at her arm, trying to think of the other implications… and limitations.

“Our eyes!” she said suddenly, looking back at Nassella. “James has green in his eyes, and he said I do too. It’s like the Breach…”

“Your eyes weren’t always that color?” Nassella asked. Naomi shook her head.

“Another side effect of the Fade, I suspect” Solas said. Nassella nodded.

“Yes… it must be. I remember now. In the future I saw, when the Breach was everywhere, James’ eyes, and yours, were entirely bright green.”

“Could it be dangerous?” Naomi asked Solas. “Could we be hurt by this?” Solas shook his head.

“I don’t believe so. I imagine any negative side effects would have presented themselves by now, if they existed.” Naomi nodded, relief washing over her.

“Does James know?” Naomi asked. Nassella shook her head.

“We did not encounter him on our return,” Solas said. “But it is possible he has discovered this on his own.” Naomi nodded, feeling immense relief knowing James had this extra protection. It was her greatest fear, knowing he was in danger and might not come back.

“We will have to wait to tell him, though,” Nassella said. “We don’t have time to travel back to the Hinterlands to find him. Once the mages arrive, Solas will work with them until they are ready, and then we will seal the Breach. Things will go quickly…” Naomi felt a wave of surprise, then sadness. _If they close the Breach… will Nassella leave?_

Naomi stared at her arm. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell anyone about this?” she asked Nassella and the mages. Dorian nodded.

“Indeed. Likely anyone who discovers what you can do will assume you are a mage, but I doubt you want to deal with that, in addition to everything else.”

“And it is possible someone would recognize you are not a mage, and ask further questions, which should be avoided, at all costs,” Solas added.

“We’ll tell Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen, of course,” Nassella said, “but that can wait until James returns, when we can tell and show them all at once. It will be easier that way, and this will affect James the most.” Naomi nodded, back to examining the skin of her arms. _It really won’t cut…?_

“I see you have much to think about,” Dorian said, turning toward the door. “And I am in need of a bath.”

 “I have my own preparations I must begin as well,” Solas said. He looked at Nassella, his gaze lingering a beat longer than Naomi expected, before leaving the cabin. Nassella immediately dropped back to the floor.

“I have to go see Leliana, Josephine, Cullen… there is so much to tell them… but I really don’t want to be yelled at right now.” Naomi sat down next to her.

“Why would they yell at you?” she asked. Nassella blew air from her nose.

“Because I gave the mages an alliance instead of conscripting them… they have their freedom...”

“Oh,” Naomi said, then, “I’m sorry,” when she could think of nothing more to say.

“You should be!” Nassella said, though her tone was light and she was smiling. “I don’t fear mages like the humans do, I’ve lived with them my whole life… but after everything that happened… I was so angry! What was the first thing they did when they got out of the Circles? Run to Tevinter and enable a crazy magister who tried to _remove me from time_ , but instead sent me to the future and helped something called the Elder One take over the world!” she almost yelled. Naomi tried to keep up, but it was evident that much more had happened at Redcliffe than what she had described so far.

“And what did I think of when I had to make a choice?” Nassella continued. “You, telling me not to blame the mages, and talking about _understanding_ why people do things, so we can avoid the same mistakes. So I did the opposite of what a Templar would do…” Then she sighed. “No, that’s not fair. It was _my_ decision… and I wouldn’t change it. But you helped keep my anger from taking over,” she said, smiling. Naomi smiled back, then shook her head.

“I’m glad everything worked out… but you’re going to have to explain a lot of what you just said.” Nassella sighed, dropping her head to her hands.

“I’d… rather not talk about it too much. Just know it cannot happen!” she said fervently. Then she looked up at Naomi thoughtfully. “There is one thing…” Naomi grinned in encouragement when she paused. “James, in the future, wanted me to tell you to learn to fight, to defend yourself.” Naomi frowned.

“What?”

“Naomi… this future, it was bad. You were injured, and so sick. And James… I think he thought if you could fight, that you wouldn’t have ended up there.” Nassella was leaning forward, brows furrowed earnestly. Naomi had to look away, to think. She knew James wanted her to fight, he had already told her so. And if she really was captured in this future, she could understand why he would continue to insist on it. Still, it wasn’t like there was much she could do about such a future, even if she learned, and she now had built in protection.

“No, I… I can’t Nassella,” she said finally. The elf sighed, sitting back.

“Of course, I understand. It’s just… I promised him I would talk to you,” she said, clearly disappointed. Naomi chewed her lip, picking at a fingernail. She knew James and Nassella just wanted what was best for her, and she knew this world was more dangerous than her home. Maybe it would be better to learn self-defense, but that decision could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... so this is where I'm coming from with all of this. It's non-canon, but I already jumped off that boat by using characters from the modern world...
> 
> I was inspired by all of the fade-touched crafting materials from the game. Basically, I see it as these things are exposed to the Fade, and their basic nature is changed because of that, and some aspect of what they already do is enhanced. This includes things like animal hides, which means the living animal was fade-touched (in my mind). So, James and Naomi were in the Fade, exposed to the energy of the Breach, and some of the abilities of what bodies do (like skin acting as a barrier and healing) were enhanced because of that.
> 
> And I changed a line in the previous chapter, because I never meant to imply that they couldn't die. There are a lot of other ways to die, and they can still get injured, as you saw above.
> 
> I think I've covered all my bases here, and if something still doesn't make sense, there's a good chance I'll cover it in a future chapter. Like I said, this was one of my first ideas, so I've thought about it a lot...
> 
> \---
> 
> Dialogue from game property of Bioware
> 
> verse quoted by Naomi is Revelation 21:4


	25. Your Heart Shall Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things are different from the game… to make it a little more ‘realistic’ in my mind. For example, I feel like Haven’s gates wouldn’t be closed initially, because there would be people outside the walls trying to get in… which means Cole can’t knock on them…
> 
> This is also a long chapter! I wanted to cover everyone’s perspective.

Naomi felt when the Breach closed the moment it happened. She was in the stables, grooming one of the horses, when a shiver crossed her skin and the hairs on her body stood on edge. She almost dismissed the sensation as a chill, but a heartbeat later she heard cheers from outside, and put down her work to investigate. Stepping out of the stables she looked to the sky to find the Breach gone, a few wisps of green the only evidence it had ever existed. It was disorienting. In the six months she had been in Thedas, not a day had passed when she did not see the swirling green wound in the sky.

_She did it._

Naomi felt a hand on her shoulder. “What a sight!” Jaron said, grin plastered on his face. Naomi smiled back, then laughed.

“It will take some getting used to... but it is!” Jaron thrust a bottle into her hand. She looked at it, then to him. “What’s this?” Jaron raised an eyebrow.

“Alcohol, of course. To celebrate.” Naomi looked at the bottle, a million reasons running through her head why she shouldn’t, but then she looked back to the empty sky and shrugged, bringing the bottle to her lips. _Everyone will be drinking tonight…_ The liquid burned as it ran down her throat, and she choked slightly, to Jaron’s amusement, but she took a second drink after the first. Handing the liquor back she grimaced.

“That’s terrible.”

“Give it a few minutes, you’ll think differently.”

An hour later Nassella returned from the Temple, and the celebration really began. The temperature hung around freezing, but the night was clear and Naomi suspected everyone in Haven was outside, dancing and drinking around campfires, basking in the glow of the moon and not the Breach.

An hour after that Naomi found herself sitting at a campfire, surrounded by strangers, her lips tingling slightly from the drink. The bottle had run out some time before, though Jaron had consumed most of it, and had left in search of more. But he had yet to return and Naomi suspected he had gotten distracted by a pretty face along the way. Giving him up as a lost cause, she stood and returned to the stable, weaving through the soldiers and civilians celebrating, ending up in front of Liberty’s stall.

“Hey girl,” she said when the horse had stuck her head out of the stall, and she rubbed behind her ears. She stood in silence for a few moments, smiling to herself. She still missed her home, but finally felt that she was settling into this life.

Liberty tossed her head, perking her ears toward the stable’s entrance, and Naomi looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Dennet or one of the other stablehands. But the figure was far too tall to be any of those people, and when he passed a lantern hanging from the ceiling, light glinting from bright red hair, she froze. _Shit…_

Alec strode closer, and Naomi turned back to Liberty, stroking the horse’s face, trying not to draw attention to herself, hoping the Templar would keep walking, that he was drawn to the stables on some errand. She listened tensely as his steps drew closer, then held her breath when they stopped. Settling her nerves, she slowly turned around.

Alec had leaned against the other wall, though in the close quarters of the stable he was still far too close for her comfort. He smirked at her a moment. “What’s your horse’s name there?”

“Liberty,” Naomi said shortly, coldly. “And she’s not my horse.” Alec pushed away from the wall.

“Well, I’ve seen you riding her around… it’s a pretty sight.” A step forward. Naomi crossed her arms across her chest and lifted her chin, anger starting to rush through her.

“Do you need something?” His smirk grew.

“I need a lot of things… and I think you could help me _satisfy_ some of them.” Naomi flushed. _I hoped he had gotten the hint…_ she quickly moved away from the wall, away from the man and into the walkway between stalls.

“That will _never_ happen and… you need to leave.” The change in his demeanor was sudden and unexpected. Taking steps toward her, he scowled.

“You think you’re better than me?” he asked as she backed away. “You should be honored that a Templar even looks at you…”

“She said you need to leave,” a voice Naomi recognized as Jaron’s said from the other side of Alec. The Templar turned and sneered.

“And what are you going to…?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jaron interrupted, all trace of his usual joking or sarcasm gone. They stood for a tense moment, but then Alec shrugged.

“You can have her…” he spat. And then he was gone. Naomi took a deep breath, though her body did not relax, and immediately felt her face flush with embarrassment. _Why did Jaron have to see that?_

And then Jaron was in front of her, looking at her with concern. She burned even more. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Naomi shook her head.

“No… no, I’m fine…” but she felt her eyes start to water and then she was huddled on the floor crying. _What is wrong with me? Why does this keep happening…?_

“I’ll go tell someone about this, he’ll be…” Jaron hissed.

“No!” she said. “I mean… he didn’t do anything…”

Jaron sighed and dropped down to her level, putting a hand gently on her shoulder. “But he would have…”

He was interrupted by the tolling of bells. They both froze, tears stalled on Naomi’s face. “What’s that?” she asked. But Jaron didn’t answer, standing quickly and grabbing her arm to pull her with him. They ran to the stable entrance, and once outside, Naomi stopped, staring with wide eyes at the mountains.

Figures were streaming down the pass, torches showing the numbers to be large. But she didn’t know it was a military force until she noticed the way everyone around Haven was moving, soldiers strapping on their armor and weapons, everyone else running to Haven’s gates, Cullen yelling in the distance “To arms! To arms!”

Haven was under attack.

And they were outside the walls. They needed to get inside…

Naomi gasped. “The horses!” she yelled, panicked, at Jaron. “We need to get the horses inside!” Jaron nodded grimly, and then they were both moving, throwing open stalls to grab the animals, leading them at a run to Haven’s gates, squeezing them through the narrow opening, made more narrow by the stream of people into and out of the walls. Then up to the clearings by the Chantry, sprinting back to the stables to repeat the process. The other stablehands soon joined, and Naomi noticed Dennet loading a wagon with saddles and tack. And each time Naomi turned from the Chantry to run back she saw the lights getting closer, and ran faster. There were over a hundred horses to move, and they had started at the front of the stable. Liberty’s stall was toward the back, and she knew she couldn’t skip ahead to get her. _I’m the only one who rides her…_

Naomi wanted to cry when she started to hear the unmistakable sounds of fighting. They were running out of time, and there was still a quarter of the stables to go…

But she ran, opening two more stalls to lead the animals to safety. Outside was chaos, their attackers finally visible. Naomi mounted one of the horses bareback, and urged him toward the gate, weaving around the fighting as she did. She let the horses go just inside the wall and turned to get more, but someone grabbed her shoulder.

“It’s too dangerous,” Cullen said. “No more civilians outside of the wall.” Naomi felt her heart clench.

“No… I have to go back… there are more…”

And then an avalanche buried one of the passes where the attackers approached. Cullen let go of her shoulder, looking to the mountains, and a cheer rang from the soldiers. Naomi ran outside.

_I can still do this…_

And then fire rained down from the sky, a shadow passing over Haven. Naomi looked up and stopped her dash in shock. _Dragon._

It wheeled and came back, blowing more fire over the town, and Naomi watched with dread as the stables caught on fire. She sprinted to the building, and once inside, ran down the length, opening any stall that still contained a horse, urging them to run outside. Finally, she opened Liberty’s stall grabbing the horse’s reins and turned to go.

But stopped, dropping the reins to run to the stall at the very back of the building where she slept, grabbing the bag that contained her things, slinging it over her shoulder. She didn’t care about the clothes, but the book buried inside…

She returned to Liberty, grabbed the reins, looked up…

And watched in frozen horror as a man, a Templar, stabbed his sword through Jaron’s back, the point emerging through his stomach.

_No…_

Red blossomed across Jaron’s shirt, and he fell to the floor. Naomi stared, the blood draining from her face, unable to move as the man removed his weapon and stepped toward her.

“Bloody bastard! Over here!” Naomi shook her head, clutching Liberty’s reins tightly as a second figure ran the length of the stables, sweeping the Templar’s weapon away and cutting through the man’s throat. Blackwall.

“Let’s go!” he yelled, turning back the way he had come. Naomi couldn’t move, staring at Jaron’s lifeless body.

_Why did he follow…?_

A burning beam fell behind her, and she ran trying not to look at the bodies on the floor, though she had to when stepping over them, emerging outside where she would finally have room to climb on Liberty’s back…

But then pain erupted across her stomach and she fell back to the ground, tried to sit up, briefly registering that a sword was hovering over her, before it crashed into her shoulder. More pain, and everything went black.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James watched in horror as a Templar turned from Blackwall and struck his sister across the stomach, then again, a crushing blow from above.

“No!” he yelled as she collapsed, running the final few yards to the stables, where Blackwall was fighting off four Templars.

James had been on the road, a few miles from Haven, when the Breach was closed. His unit had pushed through, walking by moonlight, to return and join the celebration. But they had barely had time to put down their gear when the alarms sounded, and terrified, James had followed orders to defend a trebuchet.

He had defended, but barely had time to block a few blows before Nassella had shown up, with mages, who quickly dispatched the Templars. She had left, leaving James and the other soldiers to fire the trebuchet, and when they did, he had cheered with the others as the force was buried in snow.

But the dragon had changed everything, destroying the trebuchet and forcing them to retreat, toward Haven.

And that was what he was doing when he saw Naomi die.

Adrenaline pounding in his ears, yelling at the top of his lungs, James crashed into the man who had struck his sister, throwing him to the ground. He struggled to stand, moving to bring up his shield. But he was too slow. James swung his sword with all of his strength, mimicking the same blow the man had struck his sister with, cutting through the man’s neck and shoulder with a single blow, spraying himself with blood. The Templar dropped and James spun, just in time to block the weapon of another Templar. But he quickly returned with his own blows, and when he saw an opening he took it, stabbing through a break in the man’s armor. There was more resistance than he expected, but the man dropped his arms, and James removed his sword to slice the man’s throat.

Blackwall had taken care of the other Templars, and with the immediate danger passed, James dropped his shoulders and threw everything he held to the ground. He closed his eyes, even as they filled with tears, and slowly turned. _I can’t… why was she out here? I should have protected her…_

A rough hand grabbed his shoulder. “James,” Blackwall said gruffly, “Help me with her, we need to get to the gates.”

“What’s the point?” James replied, voice cracking. _She’s gone…_  The hand shook him.

“Open your eyes, we need to get her inside.” James took a breath and cracked open his eyes, then opened them wide when he actually _looked_ at his sister. She was on her back, but instead of blood pouring from her stomach, pooling beneath her body, he saw nothing but snow and mud, and she appeared completely uninjured.

_How…?_

The dragon swooped back overhead, roars filling James’s ears. He grabbed his weapons, securing them in place, then bent to help Blackwall pick up Naomi. Thin as she was, she was tall, and not light, and when James saw Liberty skittishly pawing the ground a few paces away, he indicated with his head to move toward the horse. She shied away slightly, but Blackwall grabbed her reins, and the animal seemed to sense that the woman being laid across her back was her rider, and calmed.

“What happened?” Nassella asked, slightly out of breath as she ran from up the road. The dragon made another pass. “Never mind,” she said, moving toward the gate, “we need to go…” They ran, passing through the gates, which were immediately closed behind them, Commander Cullen approaching Nassella.

“We need everyone back to the Chantry!” he said to the elf, frown deeper than James had ever seen it. James looked to Naomi, still marveling at how she was alive. _Was the Templar’s sword dull…?_

“At this point, just make them work for it,” he heard Cullen say. _We’re still going to die,_ he realized with terror.Nassella’s nostrils flared, and she looked back at the people around her. Then she nodded and turned back to the Commander.

“We’ll check the town… and meet you in the Chantry.” She turned to him. “James, come with us, we could use you.” James was about to protest, but Cullen had taken the reins from his hands.

“I’ll take her,” he said, face grim. James looked at Naomi one last time, but nodded, and turned to follow Nassella and her companions through Haven’s streets, anger still boiling through his body.

The dragon had punched a hole through the wall, and Templars were streaming over it, attacking a group of soldiers and civilians. Solas and the second mage, who James did not recognize, starting throwing lightning and fire toward them, stunning several, but also drawing their attention. James adjusted his grip and threw himself into the fray. Now that he had killed… he found doing it again easier. The first Templar he fought was easy, especially considering that a blast of lightening stunned him momentarily. But then James found himself face-to-face with a creature covered in red crystals.

The creature swung its arm, and though James caught the blow on his shield, he was thrown to the ground by the incredible force. The wind knocked out of him he tried to stand, but the creature was on him, swinging its arms. James brought his shield up to protect his body, and most of the blows landed there, but then he felt pain erupt along one of his legs, and knew he had been hit.

_Shit…_

Then the blows stopped, and James looked over his shield to see Nassella had stabbed the creature in the back, and it had turned toward her. But she was already removing her daggers and slipping around it, landing a couple more stabs. James scrambled to his feet, favoring the leg that had been hit…

And realized there was no pain. But before he could process that, the creature had swung back around. Bracing himself, James pushed back with his shield, swinging his sword, hacking at the creature’s arms when he could. Then Nassella reappeared and finished the creature, and James breathed a sigh of relief.

Their path was clear and they ran to the burning tavern, Nassella running inside to help Flissa. James took a moment to inspect his leg. The leather was torn, but underneath his skin was unmarred.

_I swear I got hit…_

“We need to keep moving!” Nassella yelled as she ran from the building, Flissa stumbling after her. James looked back up and followed, the thought gone.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen led Liberty through Haven at a jog, fear for the woman on the mare’s back gripping his heart.

_I told her not to go back out…_

He was frustrated and angry, and not just with her. Haven was not prepared for this type of attack, and it was his responsibility. He was the Commander, it was his job to ensure the safety of the Inquisition’s base. And he had failed.

_But I had no reason to suspect the entirety of Thedas’s remaining Templars would move on us like this…_

_That doesn’t matter, I should be prepared for anything._

_But I could not have anticipated the dragon._

On top of the hill he stopped, and gingerly pulled Naomi down, knowing she was alive when she moaned slightly at the movement. As he brought her inside, he remembered the last time he had carried her like this. She had run away from him then as well, but that time had been in fear, away from the new world she found herself in, and in grief, from her dead brother. But this time she had run into danger, to save the horse she loved. It was foolish, and he felt inexplicably angry that she had thrown her life into such peril, after he had _told_ her to stay inside the walls. But he could understand why she did it. She was with the horse more than any person, and she never looked as happy as when she was riding the mare, and Cullen realized he would have missed watching her work with the animal.

 _But that doesn’t matter anymore,_ he thought bitterly as he carefully laid Naomi on the Chantry floor. _None of us will survive the night…_

“Can I help you, Commander?” a regal voice asked from behind him and he turned to see Vivienne studying him, though her usual cool exterior was slightly frayed, noted the blood on her usually impeccable robes, and knew she had been tending the wounded.

“Yes,” he said, turning back to Naomi. “I’m not sure what happened to her…” Vivienne swept past him, kneeling at Naomi’s side, magic streaming from her fingertips. Naomi moaned, thrashing her head, and Cullen knelt down as well. Her eyes suddenly flew open, and she looked around in panic, though her eyes were slightly glazed.

“Liberty?” she mumbled.

“What’s that my dear?” Vivienne asked.

“It’s a horse,” Cullen said, “and she’s alright.” Naomi closed her eyes and winced.

“Hurt…,” she said. Cullen looked over her body, but could see nothing wrong. Vivienne traced her fingers along a tear in her tunic, then deftly untied the garment, opening it along the front to expose her shoulder.

Cullen sucked in his breath. Her shoulder was bruised nearly black and her collar bone misshapen, unmistakable swelling indicating broken bones. Vivienne tsked. “How did this happen?” But Naomi didn’t answer, and didn’t wake when Vivienne gently tapped her cheek. The mage inspected the rest of the woman, finding another tear further down her tunic, and opened the garment the rest of the way. But Cullen only had eyes for the injuries revealed further down her stomach. Her skin was unmarred, but the flesh and bone underneath was clearly not, a dark, sharp line of bruising crossing across her lower ribs, the surrounding skin bruised purple. Gingerly, Vivienne brought her fingers to the bones.

“Broken,” she said, “and moving her likely shifted the ribs, and may have damaged the organs.” She worked over Naomi’s body with small pulses of magic, assessing the full extent of the damage. “I am not sure what caused such injuries without breaking her skin…”

Cullen felt a nag of confusion. The pattern of bruising suggested Naomi had been struck with a sword, and the more he looked at it, the more sure he became. He felt a stab of panic, realizing how close she had come to death…

 _No. By all rights she_ should _be dead…_

_She still could die._

“The Herald’s coming!” someone yelled. Cullen hesitated, then turned to Vivienne.

“Fix her,” he said, before running to the large wooden doors, bracing himself against one as the last few stragglers entered the Chantry, followed by the Herald’s companions, and lastly, the Herald. The elf slammed her small frame against the other door, and together they sealed everyone into the Chantry.

“Where’s Naomi?!” James demanded. Cullen indicated the direction where the woman lay, still tended by Vivienne, then turned to the Herald.

“Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Nassella had been relieved when she sealed the Breach, the scar disappearing in the sky with a wisp of green.

She had been happy back in Haven afterward, watching the Inquisition celebrate, livelier than they had ever been, and she had allowed herself to relax.

When the forces first appeared over the mountains, she had been confused, unsure of what force could possibly sneak up on them.

Then Cole had appeared, and she had been angry, seeing the Elder One for the first time, this Corypheus who was bent on destroying the future of Thedas, who had made it so she watched people she loved die in front of her.

When the avalanche buried the Templars in the mountains, she had felt a sense of satisfaction that frightened her. She never expected to be satisfied to see so many people die.

And then the dragon had arrived, and she had been afraid. She didn’t fear many things, but the dragon, wheeling and screaming above Haven was unlike everything she had ever seen, and then Cullen had basically said they were lost…

She had felt the gnawing claws of despair then, realizing as she saved Haven’s citizens from the burning buildings and Templars streaming over the walls, that she was likely only giving them a few extra hours, _minutes_ , of life. And the claws sank in when Cullen suggested another avalanche to bury the force, to bury Haven, giving them the dignity of choosing their own death…

And now, Chancellor Roderick suggested a way out of Haven, a path leading from Haven into the mountains, she allowed herself to feel a spark of hope. But not for herself.

“Will it work?” she asked Cullen. _Will they be safe? Will these people live?_

“Possibly,” he said, “ _if_ he shows us the path.” A pause. “But what of your escape?” Nassella held her breath, knowing already what she had to do. If these people were to escape, if the strange group of friends and acquaintances she had gathered, and grown to care for, and even _love_ , were to survive, she wouldn’t. She looked around the room and sighed. They didn’t need her anymore… the Breach was sealed, and Corypheus wanted her. She saw Leliana across the Chantry, James kneeling by Naomi, Cassandra and Solas behind her… they had given their lives so she could give the world a better future… and she would give hers to do the same. _But I’ll take that bastard with me if I can…_

“Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way,” Cullen said softly. Nassella nodded, and turned to those who had been fighting by her side all night, and gave them a small smile, eyes lingering a moment longer on Solas, soaking in his features. As Cullen called the Inquisition to move and sent a group of soldiers ahead to load the trebuchet, she faced the door, feeling a cold determination settling over her. And calm, which was strange, she thought as they left the Chantry, considering she was going to her death.


	26. No Power in the Sky Above

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter... I just can't stop myself!

Everything was cold. Naomi shivered, curled in a ball on the floor, eyes shut tight. She could hear sounds of fighting around her, shouts and yells, screams of the dying. She hugged herself closer, tried to shut out the noise….

Then pain erupted across her sides and she screamed, opened her eyes in panic…

_Felt strong arms holding her, something soft brushing her cheek. But the pain…_

The stables were burning, but she couldn’t get up, couldn’t move. The pain was unbearable and she struggled to breath, the heat rising around her, flames growing closer, smoke filling her lungs, heard Liberty screaming in fear. She closed her eyes, panicked, preparing for the flames to consume her…

_The heat was gone, though the pain remained. She opened her eyes, dim figures moving over her._ Liberty _… Muffled voices, a woman, then a man._ Is she hurt... _more darkness._

Naomi shivered, curled on the floor, unable to move, pain shooting through her core with every breath. Minutes, hours, passed, but eventually the pain subsided. It was replaced with cold. Bone-chilling cold. She stood carefully, and turned, taking in the stables through the fog of her breath, whole and intact, though empty…

“Help!”

She spun around, and Jaron was at the end of the hall, a Templar with glowing red eyes holding him from behind. Naomi ran toward him, not sure what she was going to do…

A sword blossomed through his stomach, red blood flowing from the wound to the floor. The Templar dropped the body and disappeared. Naomi finally reached Jaron and turned his body over, sobbing.

He looked at her with wide eyes, blood dripping from his lips. “Why did you go back?”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know you would follow… I didn’t want this…”

“You should have listened…” Naomi felt him go limp in her arms, his eyes glaze over.

“Jaron? Jaron! I’m sorry! I…”

“Naomi?” She looked up, squinting in the suddenly dim light. No one was there, and when she looked down Jaron was gone. Wiping her eyes she stood, frantically looking around.

“Naomi.” She jumped, the voice right behind her. She turned and started to cry again, pulling the thin figure of David into an embrace.

“David,” she breathed, holding him as tight as she could, crying into his shoulder. “You’re here… I’ve missed you. Why didn’t you come back?”

“You didn’t try hard enough.”

“What?” she asked, pulling away. She looked at her brother and caught her breath. His eyes were bright green, and then he collapsed, body shaking violently. Naomi dropped to his side.

“David!” she cried. “No! Not again! Stop… come back! Please! I tried! I tired, I tried, I tried…” But he had stopped moving and Naomi sobbed, rocking back and forth while she held one of his hands. “I tried,” she whispered, choking on a sob.

“They are dead because of you,” a deep female voice said. Naomi blinked through tears to see a woman standing above her, tall and thin, dark hair falling long and straight around her regal face, pale eyes stern.

“No… I didn’t…”

“You were not strong enough to save your brother.”

“But I couldn’t…”

“The other followed, because he feared for your safety.”

“I didn’t ask…”

“Everyone you love will die…”

Naomi looked down. “No!” she cried, scrambling to her feet. David had been replaced with James, face blank with death. “No… he can’t…” She backed away and felt something hit her foot. She turned and saw Nassella on the floor, bruised and blue with cold. Beyond her was Cullen, Varric, Solas, Cassandra… all dead.

Naomi felt her throat start to close, her breathing become labored. She turned from the sight, hands shaking violently. And then she stopped. “No,” she breathed.

Her family, the family left behind, were in front of her. All dead.

Naomi couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move…

Suddenly, the pain returned, and Naomi looked down to see blood pouring from a gash in her stomach. “And you will die as well.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James had never been so cold in his life. He liked the snow, played in it growing up, tolerated, even embraced, the winter months as any Midwesterner would. But he had always had the choice to _get out_ of the cold whenever he wanted. Not here, not now. Hiking through the blizzard, next to the wagon holding his injured and unconscious sister, pushing when it got bogged down, leaving behind Haven, buried in snow, was one of the worst experiences of his life. And he knew it wasn’t really because of the snow.

They were walking away from Haven, from everything he had started to know as familiar. He had never been homeless before… never known a day when he didn’t know where he would lay his head. Even when they first came to Thedas, they had been given shelter. But now, even that security was gone.

And Nassella had stayed behind. She had set off the trebuchet, blocked the advance of the remaining Templars, given them a means to escape. But had died in the process.

His heart was heavy, and it made each step difficult. He had already thought his sister dead once tonight, and now the elf. He didn’t realize how much he had started to care for Nassella… until she was gone.

Hours passed, and finally word came down the line that they would stop soon. Scouts had found a valley, shelter from the blizzard winds, ahead. Even with the promise of relief and shelter, it took longer than he expected to climb the final feet to the camp, and tents were already being erected when he finally arrived. He carefully removed Naomi from the wagon and carried her to a healer’s tent, covering her with blankets.

Then, reluctantly, he went to help, to set up more tents, make fires, unload the animals…

And then, because he was one of the few people still up and walking with any energy, Cullen asked him to join the patrol to sweep for stragglers. James groaned inwardly, but prepared himself for another walk in the cold. _At least it stopped snowing… and the sun is rising…_

He followed the Commander and the Seeker, with the rest of the patrol, preparing himself for the long trek, expecting they would walk nearly all the way to Haven in search of those who had gotten lost…

But before they could climb out of the depression where they were camped, a figure appeared on the top of the slope.

“There…” James said, straining his eyes in the dim morning light. “Someone…” The figure fell to its knees, and James saw a flash of green.

“It’s her!” Cullen yelled, starting to run.

“Thank the Maker,” Cassandra said, following the Commander up the hill. James couldn’t move.

_She’s alive… how could she have survived…?_

Relief washed over him, and he suddenly felt lighter.

_It doesn’t matter how._

Suddenly, a man with pale skin and eyes, a ridiculously large hat on his head, appeared in front of him.

“Shit! Where’d you come...?

“Cold, too cold, more than she’s ever felt.”

James looked to where Cullen was returning down the slope, carrying the thin figure of Nassella. He looked back at the pale man. “Yes, I’m sure she’s cold… we all are.”

“It hurts… she failed, she couldn’t save them…” James frowned.

“No... She saved us… we got away because of her.”

“They died, but it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have done anything,” the man said, sorrow dripping from his voice. James shook his head.

“I don’t…”

“The pain cuts deep. Old and new wounds, buried hurts, now on the surface. They’re gone, everyone, from here and the place beyond…” James had started to turn away, to follow the group as they prepared to continue their patrol, searching for any others left in the snow, but stopped at the man’s words. He turned to him quickly, grabbing his arm. The man tensed.

“Who are you talking about?” he asked, almost yelled. The man looked at him with wide eyes.

“She’s different, like you. Louder, brighter, but sad…”

“Is it my sister? Is it Naomi?” James looked over the man’s shoulders as Cullen and Cassandra reached the pair, stopping a few feet away.

The man nodded solemnly. “Yes.” Then he stiffened, eyes shifting to look into the distance. “It opened again, the hurt buried inside. No one can see… they don’t know.” Then the pale eyes refocused on his own. “Can’t breathe, cold and blood... she thinks it’s real…” James stared at the man for a heartbeat.

_How could he know…?_

But then he turned and ran. It didn’t matter how the other man knew his sister was injured, if there was any chance….

He ducked into the healer’s tent, making his way to where he had put down his sister. She was lying where he had placed her, but when he knelt at her side she was hardly breathing, and her face was colder than he expected, even with the weather. James started to panic.

“She needs to know what’s real,” the pale man said, suddenly across from James. “Or she’ll let her through.” James didn’t know what the man meant, but he knew he had to wake his sister.

“Naomi,” he begged, stroking one of her cheeks and shaking her uninjured shoulder. “Naomi, wake up. You’re ok. You’ll get better, you were healed. Naomi. Wake up… please…”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She brought her hands to her wounded stomach, trying unsuccessfully to staunch the flow of blood. She felt light-headed and sank to her knees. The woman towered over her.

“You cannot save yourself.” Naomi looked up at the woman. She couldn’t think straight, didn’t understand what was happening… “I will help you,” the woman said, almost a whisper. “You will never feel such pain again, will never again lose one you love…”

_Yes… that would be good. I don’t want them to die…_

“ _Naomi…”_ She shook her head. The voice had been familiar, but far away, as if speaking through a padded wall…

“You’re dying,” the woman said, voice smooth and inviting. “Let me help you…”

“ _Wake up_.” The voice again, closer this time, but still muffled. It wanted her to wake… but she wasawake…

Was she? Naomi looked down at her stomach. The blood was still flowing, though slower. But that wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be bleeding… she couldn’t…

“Please… ” _The wound was gone and Naomi stood. She looked around at the stables. But they had been burning. She was dreaming… this wasn’t real._

_“You need me,” the woman said, angry now. “You cannot protect yourself…” Naomi took a step back._

_“No… I don’t need you…” The woman’s face distorted in anger and she began to advance. Naomi closed her eyes, listening to the voice._

“Naomi, you’re ok, you’re going to be fine… please wake up…”

_She followed it, finally recognizing her brother, nearly yelling at her, felt when the voice grabbed her, and she no longer had to follow, instead pulled closer, nearer…_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

James let out a sigh of relief when Naomi’s eyes flickered open. She blinked a few times, then looked at him, immediately starting to cry. “You’re alive,” she said, “I thought you were dead…” And then she broke into sobs, covering her face with the hand on her good arm. James just watched her, unsure of what to do. His own emotions had been all over the place during the night, and as Naomi cried, they finally caught up with him.

He felt hot tears sliding down his cheeks. He covered his face with a hand, trying to hide his breakdown. But he couldn’t stem the tears. After a few minutes, he felt a hand on his knee. He rubbed the hand across his eyes, clearing his vision. Naomi was looking at him worriedly, eyes shot red from her crying. “James?” she sniffled. “What’s wrong?” Then she tried to sit up and cried out in pain.

“What’s wrong?! I thought _you_ were dead Naomi! I saw someone hit you with a sword! You should have… you should be d _ead_! How are you alive?” he asked desperately. Naomi looked at him with wide eyes, bringing her good hand gingerly to her stomach.

“That’s how… You saw that?”

He let out a frustrated breath of air. “Yes I saw! What were you thinking?! Why were you out there with the fighting?!” Naomi scrunched her brows together, and her tears started again.

“I had to save the horses…” And then she was sobbing. James stood and walked across the tent, trying to clear his head. He knew he would never get an answer from his sister while she was so emotional, and he had to calm his own anger as well. The camp was bathed with the morning light, and he stood at the entrance to the tent, watching as people moved around the make-shift camp, building more fires, tending to the wounded. Everyone looked exhausted and worried… and James knew his own appearance likely mirrored theirs.

After a few minutes he returned to Naomi and found her staring at the ceiling. “Jaron’s gone,” she said softly as he sat down, wiping a hand across her nose.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, knowing Naomi had become friends with the man. And he felt guilty for yelling at her.

“What happened?” she asked, looking to him, “after… Where are we? Did we… win?” James dropped his shoulders and sighed.

“Not… exactly. We’re in the mountains.” Naomi’s jaw dropped, her unspoken _why_ hanging in the air. “When the dragon came… we had to leave. Nassella set off a trebuchet and caused an avalanche, burying Haven.” He watched as Naomi’s thoughts played out across her face. She cycled through stages of surprise, confusion, fear… settling on wide-eyed dread.

“Nassella…?” she whispered. James quickly shook his head.

“She survived… somehow.” Naomi let out a deep breath of air and closed her eyes. “But,” he continued, “we have nowhere to go… I don’t know what will happen…”

They sat in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, James could hold back no longer. “Will you _please_ tell me how in the hell you didn’t get hurt more?” Naomi brought a hand to her shoulder and winced.

“Of course… we wanted to tell you sooner, but you were away. A lot happened since Nassella went to get the mages. I’ll tell you the basics, but Solas and Dorian understand more than I do…”

 

\----- 

 

James walked across the camp in a daze, likely caused primarily by his exhaustion, but processing what Naomi had told him no small contributor to his state of mind. Things suddenly made sense. His healed injury in Val Royeaux, the way his leg had healed in Haven… even his strength was likely linked to this ability. Naomi had rolled her eyes when he mentioned the hand in Val Royeaux. _We could have found this out months ago,_ she had said, _if you weren’t so dense sometimes…_

He couldn’t deny that he was pleased.

“James.” He stopped and looked up, Blackwall in front of him. He nodded in greeting. “How is your sister?” the warrior asked.

“She’ll be alright,” James said. “Vivienne helped her in Haven.”

“Good,” Blackwall said, “I was worried… she got hit very hard back there.”

“I know.”

“Mind me asking how she survived?” James frowned, not sure if he should tell the warrior. They got their abilities from the Breach… but Blackwall already knew where they were from.

“It’s… magic, I guess. Naomi and I got… touched by the Fade, when we came here. It changed us. Her skin won’t be cut, and I heal quickly.” Blackwall raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll never understand magic… but I’ll admit it can have its uses. She was lucky… and it seems you are as well.” The warrior studied James. “I was impressed back in Haven, the way you jumped in when your sister got hurt. You acted quickly, decisively. And with your ability… You need more experience, but I think you could be a good warrior someday.” James didn’t know what to say, but Blackwall had already patted him on the shoulder and was walking away. James continued to the edge of camp, finding boulder where he could empty his bladder with some privacy.

On the walk back he thought about what Blackwall had said. He respected the man… and knew he was a formidable warrior. If Blackwall said he could be good someday… he believed him. James smiled. He had been nervous about the first time he would kill… but that was now behind him, and he regretted nothing. The men had attacked Haven, tried to kill his sister…

_But I may never get another chance… if we don’t get out of this…_

Back in the healer’s tent Naomi was awake and crying. “James!” she said when he approached, “I woke up and you were gone! I was afraid…”

“It’s ok… I just had to go to the bathroom…” Naomi wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry… I’m having bad dreams…” He knelt down next to her.

“I’m right here… don’t worry.” She laid down and closed her eyes.

“I’m so tired… but I’m afraid to sleep…”

“I won’t leave again.” She nodded, and after a few minutes her breathing indicated she had fallen back asleep. James settled himself on the floor next to her, and soon was sleeping as well.

When he woke it was dark, the tent lit dimly by the fires burning outside. He sat up, wincing slightly as he stretched his cold muscles. Looking at Naomi he saw she was awake, reading his Bible.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, surprised to see the book again. She glanced at him, then went back to reading.

“Cullen gave it to me… he saw you throw it away and picked it up.” He frowned. He had thrown the book away in anger… and after the events of the last couple of days… he was still angry.

“How can you read that? After all that’s happened. How can you still think…?”

Naomi put the book down. “It’s _because_ of everything that’s happening that I want to read it.” She looked at him. “I would expect you would want to do the same… you were the religion major.” James frowned.

“Well you’re the scientist,” he retorted. She frowned.

“It’s not like that,” she said.

“Well just because I studied religion doesn’t mean I can’t…” Lose his faith? Is that what he had done? He shook his head. “If God was out there… and cared, how could he let this happen? We’re good people Naomi… this shouldn’t have happened. David shouldn’t have died.”

“James… Christianity isn’t about God not letting bad things happen to good people. It’s about knowing God is there… through everything, good and bad. And that, in the end, everything will be alright.” James rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t feel like he’s here…” Naomi sighed.

“I know what you mean. Usually I don’t feel… anything.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “But… I _have_ to believe James. If I don’t, that means David… and Jaron…” She was crying again, but James knew what she was going to say. If there was no God, or Maker, or whatever, then David was gone… and he didn’t want to believe that either. Suddenly the book was in front of his face.

“Read this,” Naomi said, pointing to a verse. He took the book, scanning the verse.

_And I am convinced that neither death not life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, no power in the sky above or in the earth below – indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God._

He looked back to his sister, at the hope in her eyes. “We’re in a different world, there are demons, and crazy people sending dragons from the sky… but I _have_ to believe James. I’m not saying you have to… but you should believe in _something_.” James looked at his sister, amazed at her optimism. She had always been like that… seeing the good in people, believing the world’s problems could be solved through talking, not fighting, never wallowing long in sadness or fear…

And despite himself, he was hopeful. And he suddenly felt guilt, for the last few months. He and Naomi had talked, and spent time together… but he had not been as present as he could have been, he had distanced himself from her, been jealous… And today he had almost lost her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Naomi furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve ignored you, since we’ve been here.”

“No you haven’t…”

“Yes… I have. And I’m sorry.” Naomi smiled at him.

“James… we never spent that much time together… I’m used to it. Don’t apologize.” James shook his head. _She never could hold a grudge…_

“Well, I want to change that.” Naomi beamed.

Suddenly, a voice began singing from beyond the tent. James turned to see Mother Giselle, eyes raised to the sky in song, Nassella by her side. Soon, the entire camp had joined in, and by the second time the chorus came around, he could hear Naomi softly singing along behind him.

_The night is long,_  
and the path is dark.  
Look to the sky,  
for one day soon,  
the dawn will come.

The song ended, and James felt the hairs on his arms and neck standing on edge.

“Everything will be ok,” Naomi whispered from behind him, more to herself than anything else. James tried to share her optimism… but they were still homeless, and the dragon, with whatever controlled it, likely still out there. They were safe at the moment, but they were far from ok.

But as James watched Nassella walk across the camp, Solas at her side, he allowed himself to believe, for a moment, that things would get better. The woman had survived an avalanche, and walked up a mountain, injured and alone. If anyone could find a way out of this, it would be her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the notes from the first chapter reveals the inspiration for the title of the fic, which is the verse quoted here, Romans 3:38-39. 
> 
> More specifically, the title is the same as a choral piece called Neither Angels, Nor Demons, Nor Powers by Timothy Takach. It was originally commissioned by a choir in Kansas for a student who had died in a car crash. It's one of my favorite choir pieces, and I think can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of what you believe.


	27. New Home

James wove his way through the crowd gathered in in the main courtyard, carrying a piece of bread and an apple for Naomi. He admired the towering walls and impressive architecture of the stronghold, excited for the opportunity to live in an actual castle, despite its current state of disrepair.

_Unless they put me down by the lake…_

He grimaced at the thought.

_I should have realized joining an army wouldn’t_ actually _be that fun…_

Dodging a group of playing children, he remembered the days spent walking through the mountains, following the path laid by Nassella and Solas. No one had been told where they were going, and it was a hard journey through the peaks, everyone weighed down by Haven’s destruction. But they had followed Nassella, and Solas, trusting the elves would lead them to safety. But they hadn’t just been led to safety… they had been led to Skyhold.

_If only we could have had a place like this all along._

He returned to Naomi in the corner of the castle set up as a sick bay. She was sitting outside one of the tents, left arm in a sling, and he worried at her paleness when he approached.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Do you need a healer…?”

“No!” she said, then grimaced at his confusion. “Sorry… I’ve seen enough of the healers today. That surgeon over there just reset my collar bone, but she had to re-break it first…” James couldn’t help but wince. He had broken many bones before, and knew much of the pain associated with them. But resetting a bone without the help of anesthesia was not something he had experienced, though he could imagine the discomfort. _But I won’t have to suffer through something like that ever again…_

“That sucks,” he sympathized, handing the food to his sister.

Naomi took the food but set it aside. “Thanks, but I still feel sick… I was lucky the rest of the bones in my shoulder weren’t more messed up.” She sent a glare toward the surgeon. “And if I hear that woman mention ‘balancing humors’ one more time, I’m going to scream. You know, she hardly ever washes her hands between patients?”

“Why don’t you say something?”

Naomi sent him an exasperated look. “And how should I do that? I’m supposed to be the daughter of a poor farmer from the Anderfels!” she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “How am I supposed to explain germ theory, when there are no microscopes to prove anything, and the concept is probably completely unheard of?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” She sighed. “It’s frustrating… I feel like we could make this world better with simple things like that… but I don’t know how to say something without exposing where we’re from… or being laughed at.”

Suddenly, the crowd began cheering, and James looked over his shoulder to see everyone raising their hands, Cullen out front waving his sword through the air, though he couldn’t hear what he was saying above the noise.

“Look!” Naomi said, and James followed her pointed finger to the ledge of the stairs leading to the main keep. He watched as Nassella lifted a sword above her head, appearing strong and confident, despite the fact that the blade looked almost comically unwieldy in her tiny hands.

“I think… they just made her the leader,” Naomi said, eyes wide with surprise. James grinned, caught up in the energy of the courtyard.

“I feel like we’re in a movie,” he said as the crowd calmed down and began to disperse. Nassella disappeared from the ledge with Cassandra and Leliana, and he watched Cullen and Josephine climb the steps toward the keep.

Naomi shifted a little on the ground. “Yeah… but let’s hope it’s more like… Lord of the Rings, and not Game of Thrones.” She sighed. “I’ll never know what happened to…”

“Don’t tell me!” James said. “I’m not as far along as you.” Naomi rolled her eyes and pushed his shoulder.

“And you never will be, dufous,” she said with a small laugh, but then she groaned, grabbing her stomach and grimaced. “Ugh… what I wouldn’t give for some Ibuprofen right now… I feel like all of my organs are bruised.”

“They probably are,” James said, standing. “I’ll go see if the surgeon has any elfroot…”

“No, it’s fine,” Naomi said. “The stores are low and she’s using most of it for people who are more injured.” James shook his head.

“I’m going to ask anyway.” He walked over to the woman tending to another patient. “Do you have any elfroot or healing potions? My sister’s in a lot of pain…” The woman gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Yes, I know, but I really don’t have any to spare. Her injuries will be fine without...”

“You can’t even give her a sip? There must be…”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted, smile gone. “She will have to endure, like everyone else.” Then she turned back to her patient. James frowned, but returned to Naomi’s side.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His sister smiled at him.

“Thanks, but I’ll be alright.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the crowd. “Naomi…” he began slowly, knowing she would be unhappy with what he had to say, “I think you should learn to use a weapon.” She frowned, nostrils flaring slightly.

“I don’t want to learn to fight James…”

“It wouldn’t be to fight,” he interrupted. “Just so you can defend yourself.” He could see her narrow her eyes, preparing an argument, so he continued. “I know your skin won’t cut, but you could still die. What if that Templar had hit your neck instead of your shoulder? Or your head?!” He was starting to get scared again, thinking of all the ways Naomi could still die, and he could see in her eyes that she was worried as well.

“I don’t know…” Suddenly, a third body plopped down next to them, and he looked up to see Nassella, green eyes bright in the sunshine, a small smile on her lips.

“Hello!” she said. “I can’t stay long, but I saw you and wanted to see how you were doing. Are you feeling better Naomi?” His sister smiled.

“I’ll live… What _was_ that up there?” Nassella let out a deep breath.

“I’m the Inquisitor now… the leader! Can you believe it?”

“Yes!” James said, a little too quickly. Nassella looked at him with surprise. His face heated slightly, but be continued. “It’s obvious. You can close the rifts, they sent you to talk to the Chantry, you got the mages, closed the Breach. Then you single-handedly faced Corypheus and his dragon… and lived! And you brought us here! I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” Nassella blushed, pink spreading across her cheeks, and James swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I had a lot of help with all of that,” she said.

“Yes, but you were the constant… the one who was there for everything. I agree with James… and definitely believe it,” Naomi said, smile earnest. “I think you’ll be great.” Nassella finally smirked.

“I appreciate the optimism.” Then she adopted a more serious expression. “I actually came here for another reason... I’ve been thinking, and I want to revisit using your language as a code. Now that we know what we’re facing… I want to make sure things remain secret to the Inquisition, even if messages are intercepted. Would you be willing to help?” James looked to Naomi and nodded. She raised her eyebrows and nodded back.

“Yes… of course,” his sister said. “What would we have to do?”

Nassella nodded. “Good! I’ll have to talk to my advisors to know exactly what they want, but I imagine you’ll use the alphabet, or words from your language for the code, and teach it to Leliana’s agents. And James,” she looked to him, eyes earnest, “I’ll need you to come to the field when I leave, to send detailed reports.” James almost got lost in her eyes, her open face, giving him the option to refuse, clearly remembering the first time he had travelled with her. But he had no intention of saying no. Not only had he just found his confidence with the blade, but his newfound ability ensured he was less likely to get himself killed. And if he got the chance to do something other than run drills, and travel with the elf…

“I can do that,” he said excitedly. Naomi had frowned again, but she lifted her lips up in an encouraging grin when she noticed him looking at her.

“Alright,” Nassella said with a nod. “Thank you, both of you. This will be really helpful.” She glanced toward the stairs, where Cullen was speaking with Josephine and Leliena. “We need to tell my advisors what your skin can do,” she said, turning back toward them. “I’ll send for you when we find a place to hold council, for a short demonstration,” she said with a small smile. James nodded. He had expected as much.

As the elf walked away, James wondered if his role in the army would change, considering his newfound abilities.Then he flushed, realizing he was still staring at Nassella as she talked to her advisors at the foot of the stairs. He looked back to Naomi, slightly annoyed at the way her eyebrows were raised, a small smirk on her lips.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” she said, dropping the smirk. “Does she still remind you of Makenzie?” James frowned. There were times when the elf looked at him a certain way, or scrunched her nose in a laugh, when he was flooded with reminders of Makenzie. But usually… he wasn’t. And he couldn’t remember the last time he dreamed about his girlfriend… It was confusing, and not something he wanted to discuss with his sister.

“It’s only been six months,” he said as an explanation. Naomi nodded.

“I know… but eventually… you can move on. Makenzie will, and she would want you to as well.” James clenched a fist. _No… I don’t want to think about that…_ He knew he was lucky to have gotten her in the first place, and to think of her with someone else…

“Just drop it,” he said, shooting a glare at his sister. She looked at him with pity, and he was angry at her for it. But she eventually nodded and looked away, past him, and frowned. James glanced over his shoulder, but just saw a group of Templars, including Alec and Emory.

_They’re probably glad now that they joined the Inquisition… though probably not happy Nassella’s the Inquisitor…_

He shook his head and looked away, realizing he had never been so glad to leave a group of friends. Naomi was laid out on the ground, eating the apple he had brought her while she stared at the sky.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi opened her eyes with a start, cold sweat making her shiver in the cold night air. She stared up at the tent ceiling, trying to calm her racing heart. She had had nightmares since leaving Haven. All during their trek through the Frostbacks, she was plagued with vivid memories of the Templar attack, Jaron dying, David, her family…

It kept her up late, the fear of those dreams. But when she finally dropped into unconsciousness, she endured the images, reminding herself constantly _neither angels, nor demons, nor powers…_

And the woman, _demon,_ Naomi knew, had not returned. That fact was the only thing that let her sleep at all.

But now… the dream had changed. Naomi shivered again, sitting up carefully. This time there had been no death, no reminders of everyone she had lost. This time… there had been Alec.

And another voice in her ear.

Naomi started to cry. She could deal with the other dreams, sleep through them, because they couldn’t be real, or showed events that had already happened. But she couldn’t let this new dream play out… and that meant she couldn’t go back to sleep.

She stood, trying not to aggravate her wounds, stepping over the others in the tent, emerging into the courtyard of Skyhold. She noted with frustration the position of the moon, realizing she had likely only gotten an hour or two of sleep. It had taken her so long to fall asleep… and now dawn was likely only a few hours away.

Shivering, Naomi walked, knowing it was foolish, considering the dream she had just had, but, she reasoned, Skyhold was overflowing with people, and if anyone tried anything… she was prepared to scream.

The sky was clear, and suddenly feeling restricted by the towering walls of the stronghold, she climbed the stairs to the walls. She looked over the edge, admiring how the light of the moon illuminated the surrounding snow-covered mountains, and the way the fires from the camp below shone like stars. And then she admired the actual stars, searching, once more, for a familiar pattern.

But there were none. Naomi slid to the floor of the battlements, leaning her back against the wall, and stared at the unfamiliar lights, imagining that one of them was her Sun, with her Earth circling it, holding her parents, sister, friends… She thought of her home, where she didn’t have to worry about demons in her dreams, or dragons or red Templars or darkspawn Magisters. Winter would be ending there, and Naomi smiled at the thought of the changing season… The melting snow, buds appearing on trees, the return of bird songs from the south, the spring flowers that bloomed white, yellow, and purple on the forest floor…

She felt tears fall down her cheeks, and tried to wipe them away. She had not felt this homesick in months, longing for the safety of her small hometown or a hug from her mom or dad…

_I should have told them I loved them more often…_ she thought as a shooting star crossed the sky. Even though James was here, she felt alone. He wasn’t enough.

_No, I’m not alone,_ she thought. _The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie by still waters… Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow death, I shall fear no evil…Your rod and staff they comfort me…_ She shook her head, her memory of the verse fuzzy, and decided to commit the psalm to memory. _Perhaps it will help with the dreams…_ She sighed. She needed to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go on like this, needed to sleep…

A door creaked, and her heart jumped. She tore her gaze from the sky to see a tall figure emerging from the tower, a figure she recognized as Commander Cullen. She blushed, and her heart raced, but not because she was afraid. If Cullen was around, she knew she would be safe.

_But I really need to stop running into him when I’m crying…_

“Miss Westerkamp?” he asked when he drew near. “Is everything alright?”

_Yes… I definitely need to stop doing that._

“Yes,” she said, wiping the last tears off of her face. “Yes… I’m fine… just enjoying the stars.” She uncurled from her position, struggling to get up despite her cold and stiff muscles.

“Here,” Cullen said. Naomi looked up to see his hand extended. She thought to refuse, but instead took the gloved hand and allowed herself to be pulled to standing.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, pulling her hand away. Cullen cleared his throat.

“Are you sure you are alright? It’s very late.” Naomi nodded, straightening her clothes.

“I will be… it was just some bad dreams, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. Naomi looked at him, noting his own tired expression and slightly hunched shoulders, and felt slightly guilty. _He has seen more death than I ever will… I’m not the only one with nightmares._

“Is that why you’re up so late?” she asked. Cullen looked at her with surprise, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

“I… ah, yes, in part.” Naomi blushed, realizing what a personal question that was.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright,” Cullen said. “After what happened in Haven, you would be hard pressed to find a person who _didn’t_ have nightmares.”

_He’s right…_

_But not everyone has demons whispering in their ears…_

_Except for mages… Solas! I can ask Solas for help!_

“You appear to have realized something,” Cullen said, head cocked slightly to the side.

“Yes… just a way to help with the dreams… maybe.” Cullen nodded.

“Well I hope it is effective… I can walk you back to your tent…”

“No!” Naomi said, then smiled as Cullen furrowed his brow. “It can wait until morning. For now, I’d just like to stay here, and look at the stars.” Cullen’s frown deepened.

“It’s freezing!” he protested. Naomi shrugged and sat back down, settling herself snugly against the wall.

“It’s not so bad out of the wind… Thank you for asking Commander, but I will be fine, really. And look at the stars! They’re always the most beautiful in winter anyway.” She looked up at Cullen, waiting for him to continue on his way. Instead, he glanced up at the sky.

“They certainly are,” he murmured. Then he looked at her with a small smile that made her heart jump.

“Would you object if I joined you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psalm 23


	28. Constellations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, longer than I expected, again, but once I got in the groove I couldn't stop.

“Would you object if I joined you?”

The words were out of his mouth before he really thought about them, and when Naomi didn’t immediately answer, he started to regret them. _She may prefer to be alone…_ But he didn’t _want_ to leave her alone. Not again, in the freezing cold late at night…

But then, Naomi shook her head, and gestured to the wall next to her. “No… of course not.” He let out a breath and lowered himself to the ground, a few feet from Naomi, wincing slightly at the ache in his joints. But once he was on the ground he could relax, and felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. And it was indeed slightly warmer out of the wind.

He glanced toward Naomi. She had curled her legs toward her chest, held up by her uninjured arm, head leaned back against the wall, looking to the sky, a small smile on her lips. He took a moment to admire the curve of her lips, the straight profile of her nose before he glanced up himself. The stars _were_ beautiful…

Neither of them said anything, and the silence lasted a moment… then two. He tried to remember the last time he had spoken with her… and realized it had been in Haven, when he tried to keep her from running outside of the walls.

And then she had been injured, and during the chaos of the evacuation he had had no time to follow up… He had found out she survived, but he hadn’t asked her, or anyone else, _how._ But that question had been answered earlier that day. _Fade-touched…_ He had been skeptical at first, but it was hard to deny their abilities were real when James healed right in front of him.

“Your abilities certainly are extraordinary,” he said to break the silence. Naomi sighed.

“Yes, I suppose they are,” she said softly, then she looked to him. “James is very excited about it… he broke a lot of bones growing up, and won’t have to worry about that again.” Cullen chuckled.

“I’ll admit that having a soldier who can heal quickly, or could resist a blade, is certainly an intriguing prospect.” He watched as her brows furrowed, the slightest hint of a frown. “Are you not pleased?” he asked. “It is likely what…,” he paused, unable to say the words, _kept you from dying._ Even now, in Skyhold, he worried for her safety. “…saved you, in Haven.” She sighed and looked back to the stars.

“I know,” she whispered. He watched her frown deepen, and he wondered what he had said wrong. Or was it her injuries? Her arm was still in a sling, and the mage healers and resources were stretched thin as it was, allocated for those with more life-threatening injuries. But if she was in pain…

“I do not want to be a soldier,” she said finally. Cullen let out a breath. _Is that what she is worried about?_

“Is that what you think I want?” She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Isn’t it?” she asked in a whisper, and he could not ignore the fear in her voice. It hurt, more than it should have, to think that she thought he was only interested in her for her abilities.

“I may have chosen this life, but I know it is not for everyone. I would never make someone pick up a blade who did not wish to,” he answered truthfully. Naomi studied him for a heartbeat, and he sensed more than saw that her eyes were narrowed as she did. But then she nodded and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. They lapsed back into silence and Cullen studied her as she tried to keep her face neutral. But her eyebrows kept pulling together, and he wondered if she believed him…

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen. That I ran back out,” she said, voice thick with emotion. Cullen frowned. _Is she worried I am angry she ran outside the walls?_ He _had_ been, at first, but more from worry and frustration than anything else, and it had been overshadowed by his relief that she had survived.

“There is no need to apologize. I… suppose I understand why you went back out. Our soldiers sweeping the area around Haven are still finding the horses you saved. ” _And it was not completely foolish… she was not without protection, after all…_ Though knowing that fact did not make him feel much better.

“At least something good came from it,” she said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. He thought to ask what she meant, but considered that if whatever happened in the stables contributed to her nightmares, she would not want to elaborate. He had himself come to the battlements to escape his dreams…

She let out a deep breath. “So,” she said, turning to him, small smile on her lips. “Could you name some of the… star patterns you have here? I’d like to learn them.” Slightly startled by the change in subject, he scanned the sky, trying to pick out the constellations he had learned as a child.

“I can try…,” he hedged. “I can’t remember the last time I really stopped to look.”

“Really? I have a hard time looking away.” Cullen glanced toward her, noting the way her lips were still slightly upturned as she stared at the sky. “Where I’m from, there are so many lights, and they are on all the time, that it’s hard to see the stars in some places. Even where I lived, away from the really big cities, they were never this amazing…” Cullen looked back to the sky. The moon had disappeared behind the mountains, leaving the night sky as dark as it could get. He tried to imagine how lights from the ground could drown out the stars…

“It seems it would be foolish to use so many candles… or fires…” Naomi chuckled softly.

“Sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know... We don’t use candles for light anymore… at least not in most places. We use electricity. We have these ‘lightbulbs’… they’re like glass containers that have metal or gasses inside that glow when the energy of the electricity is absorbed.”

“And that is safe?” Naomi smiled.

“Safer than candles.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, searching her face for any sign she was lying. But she just kept looking at the sky. He shook his head and looked back at the stars himself. _Of all the strange things… although, metal does glow in the forges when it is heated…_

“So…” she said, “the stars…”

“Oh, of course,” he said, scanning the sky, finding a familiar pattern, and pointed with his fingers.

“They’re called constellations. Do you see that bright star there, just to the left of the tower?”

“The one that looks a little red?”

“Yes. That’s the bottom of the Sword of Mercy. There are six stars in the constellation… if you look directly above the lowest star, there are four bright stars, almost in a line. Do you see?”

“Yes… I think so.”

“Those depict the hilt. The last star is directly above those.”

“I see it! The Sword of Mercy… Alright, what’s the next one?”

He cycled through the constellations, transported to a time before he was Templar, when he laid in the grass of South Reach next to his older sister, on occasion his younger brother, and watched the stars wheel above. He smiled at the memory, and felt a twinge of guilt, remembering he had not responded to the last letter his sister Mia had sent him…

And then he thought of the year or two before he joined the Templars, when he would gaze at the stars late at night with the other village boys. There had been little discussion of the constellations, however, with conversations veering toward less neutral topics, such as which village girl’s body had been the next to transform from the straight lines of a child to the curves of a woman…

He flushed, feeling his heart rate increase, and actively _avoided_ considering Naomi’s curves.

Eventually, he ran out of stars to name, and grew silent. He looked at Naomi, who he could see was finding the constellations again, a finger pointing at each pattern and her mouth moving as she whispered the names to herself. When she finished her review, she looked at him and smiled, though her face was obscured in shadows. He suddenly wished it was daylight.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “I like to… know the names of things.”

“Why is that?” he asked. She shrugged.

“I don’t know… I’ve always been like that. I guess… knowing what things are is comforting. Even when I travelled back home, I could look at the stars and see a familiar constellation, or see a bird or plant I would see by my house, and feel better. The more I know about the things around me… the more like home a place feels.” She sighed. “That was one of the hardest things about being here at first. Not knowing the names of things, beyond ‘tree’ or ‘bird’, and the stars were different… I couldn’t even look at the moon and know it was the same.” Then she laughed. “And it was kind of my job to know the names of things…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Sorry… you probably didn’t want _that_ long of an explanation.” Cullen chuckled.

“I did ask.” She smiled, looking back at the sky. “You had mentioned once before what you did for a living,” he continued, “but I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand what it entailed.” She laughed.

“I can try to explain, but you’ll get an even longer answer. Once I start talking about science, I don’t tend to stop.”

“You have until dawn,” he said. That laugh again.

“Hopefully it won’t take that long, but if you’re sure…”

She had not been exaggerating when she said she might not stop. But, as she described her work in her world, it became clear that she had been highly educated, was quite intelligent, and any hint of hesitation in her voice disappeared when she talked about things she clearly cared about.

It was not a single job she described, but many, varying from teaching to naming plants to writing. “I did science,” she explained. “People do it all the time… I just did it more formally. It’s all based on making observations and asking questions, then finding answers to those questions with controlled experiments. For example, I observed here that trees grow in Skyhold, much higher than any other trees, so then you ask _why_ that is, and generate possible explanations. Maybe heat from the center of the world is near the surface, or the walls are enough shelter from the wind to allow the trees to grow. Or here, I might say that magic is responsible.” She laughed. “I never thought I would say something like that... So _then_ you have to design an experiment… some way to test your predictions…”

It eased his mind, to see her like this. They had agreed in their war council meeting to have Naomi create a code for the Inquisition’s use, largely on the Inquisitor’s recommendation, but there was still much they didn’t know about the woman. But the more she talked, the surer he became she would do well with the job.

“Why would you spend time studying plants and animals? It seems studying the properties of metals for weapons and armor would be more useful…” She had taken a deep breath at that, and looked at him with eyebrows raised and a grin.

“I really will be talking until dawn at this rate Commander…”

And he thought she had been passionate before.

Eventually, she moved away from the wall, sitting cross-legged and turned in his direction, leaning toward him as she patiently and thoughtfully answered his questions about ‘diversity’ and ‘ecosystem functioning’. It was… interesting, to say the least.

But he enjoyed listening to her, and was glad for the distraction from Inquisition matters. She laughed so easily, talking like this, and he wished, once again, that it wasn’t so dark, so he could watch her expressions play more easily across her face, see the dimple that he remembered appeared on her right cheek when she smiled.

Eventually, his questions were exhausted and she quieted, though he sensed she could say much more. She settled herself back against the wall, eyes returned to the stars. They had changed their position, and he thought he detected a slight lightening in the sky, a sign of the approaching dawn. Cullen was no longer tired… but he had grown cold, and when he glanced at Naomi, noting the way she had curled more tightly into a ball, he knew she was as well.

He stood, extending a hand down to her. She looked at him with surprise. “Come,” he said. “We should walk, if we insist on staying outside in this cold.” She sighed, but nodded and took his hand to be pulled up. He removed his cloak and draped it around her shoulders, feeling her tense.

“Um… I don’t need...”

“I insist,” he said, fastening the garment at her throat. She turned her head away, but made no further protestations. He had not been this close to her while she was awake, and he thanked the Maker it was dark when he felt his face heat and a small twitch beneath his breeches.

“Thank you,” she mumbled when he was finished and stepped away. She started walking, and he followed a step behind.

They had barely taken a few steps before she cleared her throat. “So… you know a lot about what I do… or did, but I was wondering if you could talk about being a Templar… if you want. I’ve heard a lot about them, but I’ve never actually talked to a Templar about what it was like...” He cleared his own throat. There were few memories of his time as a Templar that he looked on with fondness, especially his last few years at Kirkwall. But there had been a time, before the Blight, when serving as a Templar was all he wanted to do.

“What would you like to know?” he asked.

“Well… why did you decide to become a Templar?” He let out a breath he had not known he was holding.

“I could think of no better calling than protecting those in need…”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi walked next to Cullen, wrapped in his cloak, and tried to focus on his words as he spoke of his youth, interested in the Templar Order from a young age, attracted to the prospect of helping those in need. She asked for more information about life as a Templar, the duties they had, and Cullen jumped into explanations of combat training and history lessons, admitting he loved the schooling, even if it was tedious at times. She could understand those frustrations, remembering the countless hours spent reading background information and writing a thesis…

But always in the back of her mind was the thought, _I can’t believe he’s still here._

She could not fathom what kept him from leaving. Surely he would want to sleep… or grow tired of her company. But as one hour stretched into two, she accepted that he was _not_ going to leave, and decided to enjoy the chance to talk with someone about her home, and learn more herself in the process.

Not that she _wanted_ him to leave. Cullen’s company had proved to be… nice. _Really_ nice, in fact. She was often uncomfortable talking to men, but once she had starting talking about her interests, and he had responded not with boredom or derision, but thoughtful questions, she found it easier. Until he gave her his cloak.

She was still distracted by that garment, the weight of it on her shoulders, the warmth it provided. It smelled pleasant, a mixture of oil, smoke, and leather that was comforting, all familiar scents after her months in Thedas, but distinct in their proportion on his cloak. And Cullen himself was distracting enough as it was. She found her heart rate often increasing, an embarrassing heat growing between her legs, and she had never been so thankful for the dark, for the ability it gave her to look at him without being overwhelmed.

But she did her best to pay attention, and when Cullen reached a lull, she asked her next question.

“I know some Templars think all mages are threats… what about you?” He paused a moment before he answered, and when he did his voice was measured and careful.

“I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict. I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it, at times without cause. That was unworthy of me, and I try not to do so here. Mages need protection from possession, for their own sake, as well as the sake of others, but I have been pleased with the way the mages have conducted themselves here thus far, despite our low numbers of Templars.” Naomi remembered he had been in Kirkwall, and though she had never seen a possessed mage, or what they could do, she knew the destruction had been terrible, and she admired that his perceptions had not been so colored by the experience to foster hatred toward those who could utilize magic, as some Templars obviously had.

She wondered what he thought of reinstating the Circles.

_Not today. I’m not even sure I know how I feel about that exactly. All I know is things clearly need to change._

They had walked as far as they could along the still damaged walls and stopped. She could see the sky was glowing brighter in the East, and looked forward to the sunrise. It also meant that Cullen would return to his duties, and she would have to seek out the help of Solas. As nice as it had been to distract herself from her nightmares, she couldn’t count on Cullen, or anyone else, to stay awake with her every night. She had to find a solution.

They turned and walked the way they had come. “So, if Templars are part of the Chantry, do you have to take vows when you become one?”

“Not officially, but as Templars, we are expected not to seek wealth or acknowledgement.”

“Are you like the Chantry Mothers, giving up… um, well…” Naomi stumbled, realizing what she was about to ask. _This is what happens when I get too comfortable and talk before I think ahead…_

“Yes?” he prompted, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She blushed, but forced herself to finish the question.

“Well, Chantry Mothers don’t marry… or anything… right? So do Templars… give those things up?” Cullen stopped walking, but quickly regained his step, continuing at a slightly increased pace. He cleared his throat.

“Templars can marry, although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission. Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, um, not required.”

“Hmm,” was all she said, still blushing furiously. _Why would I ask that? I didn’t need to know that…_ They continued the rest of the way in silence, and when they reached the wall where they had first met, Naomi unclasped Cullen’s cloak with her good arm and shrugged from its embrace.

“Thank you,” she said as he took the garment from her hands. “For everything. I… enjoyed having the company. I probably would have fallen asleep without it.” He nodded.

“I did consider that, and did not like the thought of bringing you to the sick bay, once again, with hypothermia.”

“Again…?” she asked. He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

“I found you by the lake, with James, after your brother died… and carried you back…” Naomi sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

“ _You_ brought me back?! I thought surely James…” She felt her face grow warm. _I can’t believe he did that… He must think I’m helpless…_

“Ah, no…” He said. Naomi covered her eyes with her hand, suddenly wanting to flee. She looked back up and forced a smile.

“Um… well, thank you, for that, I suppose, but I really should go… find Solas now…” She took a few steps, but turned again, noticing Cullen’s confused expression, finally able to see his features in the morning light. “Good bye,” she said quickly, then fled down the stairs. Once safely in the courtyard, she paused and took a deep breath, her exhaustion catching up to her.

_Alright… so that was not ideal… exactly…_

Another deep breath and she continued, crossing the courtyard and climbing the stairs toward the Keep, intent on finding Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game property of Bioware.


	29. Nightmares

The rotunda Solas had already claimed as his own was empty when Naomi arrived, but that was to be expected, with the sun barely above the horizon. The Inquisition had been in Skyhold less than a week, crews barely beginning the work of clearing out the rubble from most of the rooms, but this corner of the castle, at the base of one of the towers, was relatively clear, and Solas had somehow acquired a table, already covered in books, and a couch. And, Naomi noted, he had found time to set up a scaffolding, a few experimental swatches of color already on the walls.

She pondered what he could be planning to paint as she took a seat on the couch, leaning on her good arm while she waited. She rolled her injured left shoulder experimentally, wincing at the way the constant ache became sharper and more intense with the motion.

She felt her eyes drooping as she waited, and struggled to keep them open. She had no wish to fall asleep before she could talk to Solas, but the gentle caws of the ravens from the top of the tower did little to help her stay awake. Her mind began to drift and she considered what she was going to say to the elf once he arrived. Should she just come right out and say that a demon was haunting her dreams? What would he say to that? She was certain he would believe her, but would he laugh, saying she should be able to handle the matter on her own? Would he even be willing to help? They had spoken on occasion over the last few months, but their interactions had been limited, short affairs, and generally in the presence of others. She had not spoken to him alone since… since the first time he talked with her about her dreams. He had been helpful then… and she had no reason to believe he wouldn’t help her now.

But… would he ask what her dreams were about? Would he want to know what haunted her sleep? She balked at the thought, heart rate increasing with anxiety. She couldn’t tell the elf about her fears… her guilt. What was she thinking, coming here? These were her own problems, things to handle herself. She couldn’t burden the elf with fixing her…

Naomi snapped her eyes open, ready to flee the rotunda for anywhere else in the castle. But instead of the dusty floor, her vision was filled with two bare feet, and legs wrapped in green leggings. She flushed, slowly looking up, and looked into the gray-blue eyes of Solas, a slight frown on his face.

“Can I help you?” he asked, and Naomi could not ignore the hint of annoyance in his tone. Her blush deepened, and she quickly rose to her feet, but immediately swayed as the blood rushed from her head. Spots of black flashed before her eyes, and she extended her un-slung arm for balance.

“No,” she said, waiting for her vision to clear so she could leave. “No… I’m sorry, I don’t need anything…” She yawned, then felt a hand on her elbow.

“Sit,” Solas said, and she gladly obliged, suddenly feeling her legs weaken.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, embarrassed at her behavior, and buried her head in her hand.

“You are exhausted,” Solas said, voice floating above her.

“Yes…” she said. She heard Solas sigh, then the rustle of clothing as he sat next to her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, feeling tears prickle her eyes. “Please,” she said, abandoning all arguments of handling this alone, “I need… I need help. The nightmares… a demon…” Her throat clenched, and she strangled a sob. Solas’ expression softened, any annoyance she had detected melting away.

“I should have anticipated this,” he said. “The last few weeks have been traumatic for everyone, but with your mind unprotected in the Fade…” He shook his head. “I apologize. It was my oversight.” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

“You’ll help?” she asked, relief washing over her.

“Of course,” he said, standing from the couch. “Go to sleep…”

“What!?” Naomi cried. “No! I can’t…”

“You must,” Solas said, leaving no room for argument. “The danger lies in the Fade, and that is where we must confront it.” Naomi knew he was right, but she couldn’t stop the racing of her heart, the fear of what awaited her. Solas seemed to sense her apprehension, and sat on the couch next to her once again.

“I will meet you there,” he said. “You will have nothing to fear. Do you understand?” Naomi nodded, a tear falling from an eye. _I have to try,_ she thought.

So when he stood, Naomi stretched out on the couch, settling herself into a comfortable position. She closed her eyes, not waiting to see where Solas went, and worked to calm her heightened nerves enough to fall asleep. She listened to the soft sounds of the birds, allowing the weight on her eyes to grow…

 

\----- 

 

Naomi blinked, finding herself in dim light. She shook her head, trying to place herself. She had been in Skyhold, on the couch in Solas’ room… Then she remembered. She had gone to sleep… she was in the Fade, to meet Solas and confront her dreams…

She stiffened. This was a dream, and that meant…

She turned slowly, squinting her eyes so she could close them quickly when she saw…

There, a few feet away, a thin figure shrouded in mist. It walked closer, revealed itself as her brother, and promptly fell to the ground.

Naomi knew it would happen… it had been the same since they left Haven. But she could never prepare herself enough to keep the tears away when she watched her brother die, night after night.

Moisture fell from her eyes, and she felt the brush of something across her mind, the slightest pressure indicating the demon’s presence. But she ignored it, and turned with an aching heart away from her brother.

And across from her was Jaron, alive and well, laughing at some joke he had made, at her expense no doubt. She began to run. Every night, she ran toward him, thinking _I can save him. This time, I’ll keep him from dying…_

But it was no use. Blood bloomed across his body and he too collapsed. She stopped, breath ragged, and clenched her fists as the pressure returned, with more force.

_This is your fault… You are helpless to help others…_

Every night she thought that, and now a second voice said it.

And then the change.

_You are helpless to help yourself…_

Naomi’s body shook. She kept her eyes shut, knowing what was coming but afraid to face it. _Solas is coming… he said he would help…_

Her senses were heightened, every nerve and muscle bunched, ready to flee. But she still jumped when she heard the footstep behind her, the faintest brush of a breeze on her neck.

Her eyes flew open and she turned, backing up as Alec approached her, body somehow even larger and more menacing in the Fade. She turned to run, but was pulled into his embrace instead, body crushed to his, arms tight around her…

She struggled and yelled, but she was alone. The pressure in her head increased, and she felt thoughts brush her consciousness as Alec’s hands roamed over body, breath hot on her neck…

_You’re helpless… he will find you… force you… take you…_

She had woken the night before at this point… and she could feel herself slipping, reaching for the waking world. But she held on, steeled her mind. _Solas said he was coming…_

Alec’s hands were under her shirt, rough on her bare flesh. Naomi shook, skin crawling. The pressure in her head was unbearable, crossing into painful, forcing its way in…

_You are helpless on your own…_

Naomi pushed back, just as she pushed against Alec. She could not give in, _would not_ give in. Her mind and body were hers, not for others to know, touch, exploit…

Then a hand wandered lower, pushing its way into her breeches…

Her resolve wavered as panic took over, and her head split open in pain.

And then it was gone. Everything. Her pain, the pressure, Alec…

She dropped to the floor and began to sob.

“Naomi,” a voice said gently. “Tel’numin… Ar lasa mala’eth.” She wiped her eyes quickly and looked up to find Solas, kneeling next to her, though he was not so close as to cause her discomfort. Her skin still burned where the hands had roamed. He spoke in a new language, but she understood his meaning instantly, and the words calmed her fear…

“Where were you!” she yelled, angry at his tardiness. “I almost… he almost…” She covered her face once more.

_Why can’t I get over this?_

Eventually, her tears lessened enough for her to wipe her eyes and glare at Solas.

“Ir abelas,” he said sincerely. “I did not wish for you to experience such pain, but I had to see what you were facing.” Naomi sniffed and rubbed a hand beneath her running nose.

“I could have just told you,” she muttered, pouting slightly. But she knew bringing herself to tell him these things would have been even more difficult, even as she was appalled at the thought he had witnessed everything…

“Perhaps,” Solas said, standing. Noami followed. “But I will be able to help you more effectively, seeing your nightmares in person.” Naomi looked away. She didn’t know how to feel. She wanted to trust Solas, and recognized him as her only hope, but knowing he had seen…

“It is interesting that this demon has focused on you, with mages aplenty in Skyhold,” he said thoughtfully. “It is possible it is attracted to your memories… a unique beacon in a sea of similarity…” He trailed off, eyes searching the distance. Naomi let out a huff of air.

“I wouldn’t say _interesting_ exactly…,” she said under her breath. Solas looked back to her.

“Of course not. Not in that sense at least. But we must consider what draws these spirits to you, if we hope to discourage them in the future.”

“Will that one leave me alone?” she asked, voice hopeful. Solas nodded.

“I believe so, now that is associates my own presence with yours.” Naomi raised her eyebrows. _Someone things highly of himself… though he is a powerful mage… and experienced in the Fade…_

“And others?” she asked. Solas shook his head.

“You are still at risk. The barrier around your mind is all but gone, and you have no magic to protect yourself, as mages do…” Solas began pacing, hand on his chin. Naomi watched, waiting for him to decide what to do next. Eventually he stopped, turning once more to her.

“Resisting demons is primarily a force of will… and I believe yours will resist most temptations, given proper focus.” Naomi raised her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Solas said. “You held your own quite well, all things considered, allowing no purchase for the spirit to take hold.” Naomi blushed. “But,” Solas continued, “your resolve weakened, in the end. That is when I interfered.” Naomi’s blush deepened, and she looked away from the elf.

“Demons use desires, wants, and fears against us. The fewer we have, the less those fears control us in the physical world, and the less influence spirits can exert.” Naomi sighed. She had suspected as much, as her dreams depicted those things she worried about while awake…

“Do you feel guilty, for your brother’s death?” Solas asked, voice soft. Naomi looked away.

“Yes,” she mumbled miserably.

“And the other?” She nodded. “You must know this guilt is unwarranted.”

“But David…”

“He returned from the Fade, and though he did not survive, it was by no fault of yours. You must accept that.” Naomi stared at the ground, frowning, and shrugged.

“And the other…”

“Jaron.”

“…died in Haven?” Another nod.

“Then the blame lies with Corypheus and the Templars, no one else… This pain is raw, the memory of Haven still fresh. But I suspect it will wane, with time.” At that, Naomi felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. _But it’s still kind of my fault…_ Solas paused then, and when Naomi glanced at him she could see he was once again staring into the distance, brow slightly furrowed as he considered how to ask his next question.

“He hasn’t actually done anything,” she offered, miserable. Solas glanced at her, sorrow in his expression.

“But you fear he will?”

“A… little,” she whispered, hugging her arms to herself.

“You must say something,” he stated. Naomi blanched. It was bad enough admitting her fears to Solas, but to be dragged into the ordeal of accusing a Templar of harassing her… and if she was wrong…

“No,” she said, voice hollow. “I don’t actually think… I think he will leave me alone.”

“But the fear plagues you…”

“No!” she said, more forcefully. Solas paused.

“As you wish,” he said finally. “But you cannot deny you are afraid, and this fear is food for demons. It seems your fear lies in the belief that you cannot defend yourself, that others can control you, decide your fate. While a person’s will keeps demons away, in your case, learning to defend yourself in the physical world will give demons less fodder for temptation.”

Naomi paled, an unease settling in her stomach. “As in…?”

“In lieu of magical ability, I would suggest learning to use a weapon, to escape an attacker. Anything to convince yourself you are not helpless.” Naomi frowned, but nodded slowly. It made sense, in a way… and she couldn’t deny that gaining experience in self-defense was an attractive thought. Especially in this world, where she had experienced more violence, or threats of violence, in the last six months than the previous years of her life combined.

And maybe, if she had been able to defend herself in Haven, Jaron wouldn’t have felt the need to follow her to the stables… Or she could have defended him.

But there were other considerations… _If I learn to fight, will they expect me to?_ Cullen had certainly seemed interested in the idea the night before… were they already discussing how they could use her and her fade-touched skin?

Then she remembered Alec and the prospect of dreaming like this every night, and shuddered.

“I… yes, I guess you might be right…,” she said. “But… I don’t want to join the army…”

“That will not be necessary,” Solas said. “I can speak with the Inquisitor, arrange training…”

“No,” Naomi said. Solas looked at her in surprise. “I’ll talk to her,” she said. Then she remembered. “Except… I’m still injured. I don’t know when I’ll be well enough to start learning. And it will take time… I don’t think I’ll be very good at this sort of thing…”

Solas nodded. “In the meantime, I believe you will benefit from learning more of the Fade, as some of your fear likely stems from misunderstandings. I can teach you, help you learn to interact with the Fade, and spirits, safely.” Naomi considered his proposition. She was certainly fearful of the Fade, but she had once been terrified of insects and spiders. Learning more about them, their abilities, limitations, and broader ecological importance, made those fears disappear. She considered the Fade might be no different.

“Yes… that would be good.”

“We will begin tonight, but for now, I will leave you to your rest. No one will disturb you in the rotunda.”

“You’re leaving?!”

“You forget, it is morning, and I should wake. You will be safe in the meantime.” Naomi frowned, looking around the dim and bleak world around her. “If you wish,” Solas continued, “you can change your surroundings to something more comfortable. Where do you feel safest?” Naomi wracked her mind, but didn’t think there was anywhere in Thedas, Haven or Skyhold, where she felt completely safe…

“Anywhere?” she asked suddenly, eyes lighting up. Solas nodded. Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing one of the last places she had felt safe…

She felt a shiver run up her arms, and when she opened her eyes, she was home.

Her apartment bedroom was just as she remembered it, and she almost cried at the sight.

Solas looked around the room, nodding in approval. Then he waved a hand through the air. “I have warded the room. Until you wake, you will be safe from all outside influences.” Naomi breathed a sigh of relief, turning in the room to take in the sight of her stacks of books and field guides, skulls and shells and dried plants, knick-knacks and stuffed animals, posters on the walls, her bed… It was strange… more strange than she could have thought, to be back among the trappings and devices that defined modern life, and questioned the wisdom of coming here. It would not help her move on... but she could feel nothing but relief at the moment, knowing her physical body was getting much needed rest, and she could have a place to relax her mind.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “I don’t know how to repay you for this. And it’s nice to be back here…” Then she caught a glimpse of something in the corner of her eyes and gasped.

She moved more fully in front of the mirror, drinking in the sight of her own reflection. “Is something wrong?” Solas asked. Naomi shook her head.

“No… I just haven’t seen myself in months…” Solas chuckled.

“Sleep well, Naomi.” She turned away to thank him once more, but the room was empty. She glanced around the room nervously, searching for any signs that the walls might disappear and leave her exposed. But everything appeared solid, so she returned her gaze to the mirror, stepping closer to get a better look.

It was strange, to see herself, hair falling a few inches below her shoulders, her face, rounded and freckled, cheekbones nearly absent, nose a little too big and slightly unsymmetrical. It was almost unfamiliar.

But her eyes were wrong, she knew. They were blue here, as she remembered them, but James said they now contained green. She tried to imagine what that might look like, picturing James’ own color on her face, but it proved to be difficult.

And her body wasn’t right either, she thought as she took a step back. She had always had a healthy weight, if at the higher end of that range, but knew she had slimmed from her time here. Her reflection showed herself as she had been on Earth, and even though she knew her waist dipped in further, her stomach was flatter, and her arms were more toned, she couldn’t picture those changes in this mirror.

 _It doesn’t really matter…_ she told herself as she walked across the carpeted floor to her bed and snuggled under the comforter, pulling the thick blanket under her chin. _I was… mostly fine with how I looked back home. Losing some weight couldn’t have hurt that I guess…_

James had certainly benefitted from his work here. She’d always thought he was attractive, but he’d gained enough muscle over the last few months to transform his body into something that would likely have turned most heads back home... and here for that matter. She had no allusions that had happened to her, but liked how much more comfortable she had grown in her own skin as she worked with the horses. And not looking in a mirror for over six months had been liberating.

But Alec’s advance in the stables just made that all the more confusing. She was stuck between wanting to feel attractive and good about herself, and not wanting attention. Stuck between wanting to be considered attractive, and not wanting men to actually act on that attraction. Nothing good had ever come out of it when they did.

Though that also wasn’t entirely true, Naomi thought as she remembered her conversation with Cullen that night. _I don’t think I’d mind if Cullen thought I was attractive…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the best I could with the elven, but I’m sure it’s not good at all. Roughly, this is what I tried to jumble together.  
> Tel’numin = Do not cry  
> Ar lasa mala’eth = You are safe
> 
> \------  
> I also have a request. This is the first time I've tried to write original characters, and I'd like to get a take on how it's going. You've probably noticed, but most of what I have written has focused on Naomi. It's easier for me to write her, since, well, she's based largely on me and how I would react to things, but James and Nassella are proving more difficult, so I avoid them a little bit. I have ideas of what they are like, what I want them to be like, but I'm not sure if those ideas are coming across.
> 
> So, if you have any comments on these characters: what you think motivates them, personality traits, flaws, inconsistencies, anything, I would really appreciate it! I'd like to get a sense for what has come across in the story, so I can clear things up, expand aspects of their characters that I think are important, or will become important... stuff like that.
> 
> Feedback on the game characters also welcome. :) Thanks for reading!


	30. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I had a little trouble getting this chapter started, and then my family was here last week... not conducive for writing. 
> 
> Anyway, another long chapter.

James shifted impatiently on his feet, waiting for the man he was working with to finish talking to the woman who had brought them water and bread. It was bad enough he had been assigned to clear out rubble from the tower, but now he had to wait for his companion to stop flirting before they could continue moving the large wooden beams that had fallen to the floor. The woman, dark hair pulled into a long braid down her back, laughed, placing a hand on the other man’s arm. James rolled his eyes. At the rate they were going, they wouldn’t be finished until dinner.

Finally the woman walked over to him, offering him the canteen. He took it roughly, quickly taking a long drink.

“No need to rush,” the woman said, giggling. James just finished his drink, handing her back the water, taking the bread she offered.

“Thanks,” he said, voice clipped, stuffing the food in his mouth, using his hand to beckon the other man over. He bent down, picking up one half of a beam and putting it on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” the woman said, disappointment evident in her voice. She shot the other man a grin, then left the tower.

“You don’t need to be rude,” the other man said as he picked up the opposite side of the beam.

“I wasn’t,” James said as they left the tower. “I want to get this finished before it gets dark.” The beam was solid, so they brought it to the growing pile of salvageable wood in the main courtyard.

Then back to the tower for another load.

They finished more quickly than James had anticipated, considering the number of times his partner got distracted. But when they were done the floor was essentially clear, the only rubble remaining a few large stones too large for the two of them to move alone. James was picking up the last few shards of wood and stone when one of the doors slammed open.

“And this will be your office Commander?” a deep voice asked. James straightened and turned, fumbling with his things so he could salute. Commander Cullen had entered the room, surveying the walls, a dwarf standing next to him with a parchment.

“Yes, this will do,” Cullen said, nodding to James. “Good work Westerkamp. I hadn’t expected this room to be clear until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“There are a few stones left, Commander, but we did our best.” The words felt strange on his tongue, their formality jarring. James remembered there was a reason he had never considered a military career in his old life. He turned back to his work, listening to the rest of the Commander and dwarf’s conversation.

“And where would you like your quarters?” the dwarf asked.

“Above the office will be fine,” Cullen replied.

“Alright, we’ll replace the second floor, fix that hole in the roof…”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“The floor or the roof?”

“The roof. It’s not that bad, and the resources can be used elsewhere.”

“As you say…,” the dwarf grumbled, and James glanced over to see him scribbling on his parchment. He picked up a final piece of wood and turned to leave.

“Westerkamp, wait a moment.” James stopped. Unable to salute without dropping everything he held, he simply nodded.

“Yes?” The dwarf wandered off, continuing to make notes.

“The Inquisitor has expressed her interest in having you travel to the field when she leaves on Inquisition business. We would like to use your language for reports, but want to ensure you will not be a liability.”

James bristled. “I can take care of myself.” Cullen gave him a stern look.

“It is not about that. You may heal quickly, but that will not make you a better warrior. You have had very little experience with actual combat. We need to know you can follow direction, work with the Inquisitor’s companions when needed. A soldier who is only concerned with taking care of himself can be more of a danger than a civilian who can do nothing.”

James struggled to keep his face neutral, but could not stop the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. _I know that,_ he thought to himself. _I just know I can do better than the first time…_

“The Inquisitor believes you will benefit by working with the Iron Bull. You’ll find him at the training grounds.” He left no room for argument.

“Yes ser,” James said, unable to keep it completely respectful. He left the tower quickly, not waiting to see if Cullen noticed his slip. He dropped off his load in the waste pile, then headed for the training grounds by the tavern, heart thumping. It was one thing to spar with other soldiers, or even get beat up by Cassandra, but the Iron Bull… James winced at the thought.

The large Qunari was sitting outside the tavern, near the training grounds, and greeted James as he approached. “I wondered when you would stop by. I was beginning to think you’d gotten scared off.”

“I’ve been clearing out a tower,” James said as explanation. Iron Bull nodded and stood, towering over James. It was disconcerting, to be so dwarfed, but he resisted the urge to take a step back.

The Qunari crossed his arms. “You want to do this tomorrow?”

James was tired, but there was no way he was going to let the other man know that. “Nope,” he said, crossing his own arms. “I’m ready now.” Iron Bull smirked.

“Good.” Then he sat. “Go run the walls.”

“What?”

The other man gestured toward the battlements. “Run the walls.” James dropped his arms and sighed.

“I know I’m in shape.”

“Trust me, you’re not. Run the walls.” James ground his teeth, but swallowed back his further complaints and jogged toward the stairs.

When he returned, Iron Bull handed him a shield and practice sword. Then the Qunari picked up the largest sword James had ever seen. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and prepared himself for the inevitable pain. _At least I won’t have bruises in the morning..._

“Show me what you’ve got.”

Compared to the Iron Bull, it wasn’t much.

He found himself using his shield more than he would have liked, discovering that blocking the Qunari’s blows with his own sword was extremely difficult with only one hand. The third time James lost his sword, he dropped his shield in frustration, opting to pick up the weapon with both hands. The Iron Bull said nothing, just rolled his shoulders and lunged once more.

Without the bulk of the shield, James found it much more effective to dodge attacks instead of block them, using his slightly superior agility to his advantage against the hulking warrior, allowing blows to graze off of his arms as he turned away. Not that the Iron Bull was slow, and he lost spectacularly. But at least he didn’t lose his weapon again.

Finally, the other warrior lowered his giant sword. “That’s enough for today.” James nodded, taking deep gulps of air. His arms were stinging, but he could feel as the pain disappeared, now recognizing it for the quick healing that it was. He bent down to pick up his discarded shield. “Come on,” the Bull said, “I’ll buy you a drink.” Surprised, James followed him into the tavern, taking a seat at the corner table Bull pointed out. James looked around the dim interior of the building, noting the group of mages by the door, the soldiers in the opposite corner sitting far too close to be just friends. A woman was singing by the stairs, and James could hear loud laughing from the floor above. It was still early evening, the sun just starting to set, but James suspected the tavern would soon fill with people as they left their tasks for the day.

Bull returned, setting a large tankard of ale in front of him. James took a drink, swallowing a large mouthful of the bitter liquid, wiping the foam from the scruff around his mouth, considering he was probably due for a shave.

“So I take it you never used a sword before you came here?” the Bull asked, eyeing James critically.

“No… I’d been working in something like a tavern,” he replied. The Qunari nodded.

“What made you decide to start?” James swirled the liquid in his cup a couple of times, then took a long drink.

“I want to help stop that Corypheus guy… he’s the reason I’m even here.”

“And?”

James gave a small laugh. “What do you mean ‘and’? It isn’t enough to want to kill the person who ruined my life?”

“He ruined a lot of lives,” the Bull said. “But not everyone took up a sword. And from what I can tell, your life may be different, but it isn’t ruined.” _Except he took me from Makenzie,_ James thought bitterly.

“He killed my brother.”

Iron Bull grunted. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He took a drink. “Revenge can be a good motivator, but it can burn out.” _He’s right,_ James thought as he sipped his drink, _I’m angry, but not like I was… that isn’t why I’m doing this anymore._

“In my world,” he said slowly, “I could get away without knowing how to fight. But here... there’s a fucking war going on, and even without that, just walking around could be dangerous. It’d be stupid to not know how to defend myself. I need to be able to do _something_ , everything I learned back home is pretty useless now. And I can actually be useful and help people if I can fight.”

The Bull nodded. “See I can work with that, it’s practical. But if that’s what you really want, you’ve got to commit. You don’t just become a soldier lightly... do it right and it becomes your life. You’ve got to be ready for that.” James twirled his cup between his palms, staring at the table. He had never really known what he wanted to do with this life, assuming he would have time to figure it out eventually. But graduating college had been a shock, and it bothered him to think his parents had been right to nag him all those years about grades. But none of that mattered now, and, here, it was pretty clear what he had to do.

“Oh, I’m ready.” Bull chuckled.

“Glad to hear it. Tomorrow, we’ll really start working.” James wanted to groan, but instead he grinned.

“Looking forward to it.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi woke gradually, to the soft murmur of voices. She still felt tired, and refused to open her eyes, hoping she would drop back into sleep. But, she realized with a hint of annoyance that was unlikely to happen, as it became clear she had shifted in her sleep causing her shoulder to throb. Before she could move to a more comfortable position, she picked up words from the conversation happening a few feet away.

“…I didn’t think we’d be doing it in the Fade. Or, for that matter, doing _it_ in the Fade.” Naomi froze, frowning slightly. _Was that Nassella…?_ Then she heard Solas laugh.

“I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it.” _Oh…_

“You say that, but you’re the one who started with tongue,” Nassella said with a small laugh. Naomi blushed. _I shouldn’t be listening to this_ …

“I did no such thing!” Solas said indignantly. Nassella laughed.

“Oh, does it not count if it’s only Fade-tongue?” Naomi stifled a snort. _Well, I can’t say I’m completely surprised…_

Eventually, their conversation steered away from their relationship to Solas’ journeys in the Fade. Naomi stayed on the couch, trying to fall back asleep. But it was useless, so after several minutes, she took a deep breath, shifting slightly, letting the two elves know she was waking up. She sat up carefully, and blinked open her eyes, surprised to see Nassella crouched down in front of her, smile on her face. She hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Good afternoon!” she said cheerfully. “We wondered when you would wake up.”

“It’s the afternoon?” Naomi asked.

“Well, maybe it’s more like early evening.” Nassella sat on the couch. “I tried to find you earlier, to talk about the code, but we can do that tomorrow.” Naomi nodded.

“Sorry I was sleeping all day.”

“Don’t be,” Nassella said. “Solas mentioned you were having nightmares.” Naomi frowned.

“Oh,” she said, shooting a glance toward Solas. _What did he tell her?_

“I revealed nothing about their nature,” the older elf said. Naomi let out a relieved breath.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to tell me,” Nassella said. “Everyone has bad dreams.” _Yes… everyone has bad dreams… and most people deal with them just fine._

She remembered her decision, and before she could change her mind, blurted out, “I want to learn to fight.” Nassella turned to her with wide eyes, then pinched her face in a small frown.

“Are you sure? In Haven you said…”

“I know, I know... but I want to be able defend myself,” Naomi said quickly. “So I can keep from getting hurt again.” Nassella nodded slowly, and Naomi continued. “I don’t want to be a soldier or anything… could I learn without doing that?” Nassella gave her a small grin.

“Of course… I’ll show you some things myself.”

“Really? That would be… great. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She stood, reaching for Naomi’s hand to pull her up. “Let’s get something to eat.”

They walked through Skyhold toward the tavern, people greeting Nassella as ‘Your Worship’ or ‘Inquisitor’ all along the way. Naomi suddenly felt strange walking so casually next to the elf. But Nassella just nodded politely, though Naomi could see the elf’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. They were almost to the tavern when Nassella turned to her with a small grin.

“So, when did you actually wake up back there?” Naomi blushed and cleared her throat.

“What… um, I don’t know, when you were…” she gave up, realizing she was fumbling. She smirked at the elf and raised her eyebrows. “Fade-tongue?” Nassella laughed.

“I knew it!” She pulled up short of the tavern, suddenly more serious. “Don’t tell anyone yet. Solas wanted some more time to think about it.”

“Of course not,” Naomi said, then followed Nassella into the tavern. She looked around the dim and crowded interior trying to find any familiar faces. There were a couple of the stablehands by the stairs, Varric by the bar, and the Iron Bull at a table in the corner, James sitting next to him with a tankard in hand…

“Boss! Freckles!” the giant Qunari called from across the room. “Got a couple of seats for you right here!”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Nassella grinned as she wove her way through the crowded tavern, leaving behind Naomi and James bickering by the table, the Iron Bull smirking as he listened. She squeezed next to Varric at the bar, waiting for the barkeep to finish with the other customers.

“What are you grinning about?” Varric asked.

“Oh, just James and Naomi. They bicker so much I’m starting to think they like it.” Varric chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure James does enjoy it.” He glanced over his shoulder, and she looked as well, noting that the dark-haired man was indeed smiling too much for the argument to be completely serious. The barkeep came by and Nassella ordered food, then leaned against the bar to wait.

“So,” Varric said, “Inquisitor, huh? How’s the new title treating you?” Nassella shrugged.

“It hasn’t been so different… yet. But we’re just getting things started.” Then she wrinkled her nose, remembering the meeting from that afternoon. “Josephine said I have to start meeting with nobles. She gave me a list of our supporters and allies, as well as _potential_ allies, _plus_ our known political enemies, to study. I need to be able to recall their names, connections, strategic importance, all at a moment’s notice!” She massaged an earlobe. “This definitely isn’t what I expected to happen when I left the Free Marches.”

“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it.” Nassella sighed, studying the mark on her hand, lazy flickers of green light pulsing with her heart rate.

“No… I’m not. It’s still hard to believe… but…” She paused, taking a deep breath to settle her sudden nerves. She had stayed up late the night before, mind running over the events of the previous day. The Inquisition was facing larger forces than they had ever anticipated, spread over all of Thedas. It was clear that the power and influence of the Inquisition would have to grow larger than they had ever anticipated. And she was now at its head.

“It’s just,” she said, picking up her thoughts once more, “to be an elf in charge of all of this… the stakes are so much higher. If I fail, they’ll blame all elves for my mistakes. But if I succeed… I can’t stop thinking about what this could mean!” Varric chuckled.

“Glad to see that enthusiasm… I have a feeling we’ll need that before this is over.” Nassella grinned back at the dwarf, suddenly overcome with gratitude that Cassandra had dragged him to the Conclave. He may have been unhappy at first… but she didn’t know what she would do without his steady support and friendship. And he had gotten her out of more than one tight spot with Bianca.

The barkeep brought Varric his round of drinks. He collected the mugs, heading toward Bull’s table, and Nassella watched as Naomi gave him her seat and came to the bar. She rolled her eyes when she got close, but her grin let Nassella know she was likely not actually angry.

“Did you reach an agreement?” she asked the human as she leaned against the bar. Naomi laughed.

“I wouldn’t say that exactly. We never really agreed politically, so obviously we’re not going to agree on who we hope gets elected president back home.” Then she sighed. “Not that it really matters to us anymore.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. But it would matter to your family back there,” Nassella offered. Naomi smirked.

“True, but I think my parents would tend to agree more with James on this than with me.” She sighed. “At least we both agree that Trump getting elected would be the worst.. God, if that ends up happening…” she muttered while shaking her head. The barkeep brought them their food, and after Naomi had maneuvered her plate into her slinged hand, they returned to the table. Naomi took a seat next to James and Nassella squeezed between Iron Bull and Varric.

“How are you settling into Skyhold Bull?” she asked before taking a bite from her meat pie.

“Now that the tavern’s up and running, I think it will do just fine,” he said with a chuckle. Nassella laughed.

“This is the first building that’s been fully repaired!” she exclaimed.

“Good thing too,” Bull continued. “People aren’t going to want to do much other repairs if they can’t get a drink after a day’s work.” Nassella looked around the tavern, knowing that Bull was right. For being an ancient stronghold, Skyhold was in remarkably good shape, but there was still a lot of work to be done to improve the castle, and having a place for people to relax would likely prove more important than anything else.

As she ate her dinner, Nassella listened to the conversations around the table, still not quite able to believe they had all made it out of Haven relatively unscathed. _I still can’t believe_ I _made it out of Haven…_ It had been less than two weeks since the attack, but she was happy to see that everyone was happy and moving on, James and Naomi babbling in their own language across the table, Naomi laughing at something James had said, Varric and Bull trading stories over her head, Varric recalling his days in Kirkwall and Bull spinning tales about his travels with the Chargers.

But she stayed quiet for the most part, choosing to bask in the warm glow of their presence. Sera wandered in around the time she finished her food, and Bull ordered another round of drinks. Naomi left soon after that, and Nassella wasn’t surprised. The woman may have slept all day, but she had noticed Naomi’s eyes drooping after she had finished her food. And as she finished her second glass of ale, Nassella felt her own exhaustion catch up to her. It was already clear she would be busy as Inquisitor, and she decided that getting a good night of sleep would be the best way to do her job well.

She bid everyone goodnight and was halfway out the door when she heard someone approach her. She turned to find James, grinning as he looked down at her. “Hey Nassella, mind if I walk you back?” She raised her eyebrows high, but nodded. Despite the number of drinks he had had, and his more boisterous manner than normal back in the tavern, James was in remarkable control of his body as they walked across the courtyard to the stairs.

“Thanks for sending me to train with Iron Bull,” he said. “I think it will be really good.”

“I thought so too,” she replied. “He can get you up to speed on working in a small group quicker than just training with the other soldiers could.” Then she grinned. “And honestly, once you spar with the Iron Bull, everything else seems… smaller.” James laughed, and it was so much like a giggle that Nassella couldn’t help but laugh back. But then he got more serious and stopped, grabbing her arm gently. They had entered the keep, and in the dim candlelight she could see how intense his gaze was as he looked at her, the green in his eyes almost glinting in the light.

“I’m going to do better this time,” he said. “I’ll be able to help… to protect you. You won’t regret bringing me along.” She lifted a corner of her mouth.

“I never regretted bringing you along the first time, even if you weren’t ready. And I know you can do better… I’ve seen it.” He dropped his arm, brows furrowed in confusion.

“At Haven…”

“I don’t mean Haven,” she said, then stopped. She tried not to think about what she had seen in Redcliffe, that she had seen so many of her friends die, including this man. But she had also seen what he could do. “In Redcliffe… in that future, I saw you fight. You were… quite good. You’re not there yet, but that’s where Bull comes in. Trust me, I wouldn’t have asked for you to do this if I didn’t think you could.” James nodded, his jaw set. He looked so earnest that she couldn’t help but smile in encouragement. His gaze softened, and the hand on her arm slid down, finding her own. He ran a thumb over the back of her hand, then squeezed gently, and looked up at her, his gaze once again intense.

Nassella’s eyes widened, and before she could process what was happening, James had brought his other hand to her face and bent down to place a kiss on her lips.

It was gentle, timid almost, and not unpleasant, but the scratch of his beard on her face brought her back to her senses quickly, and she pulled away. James lurched forward slightly when she did, and she remembered he was drunk.

“James,” she asked gently, “was that for me… or Makenzie?” He frowned.

“I don’t… can’t it be both?” Nassella sighed, taking back her hand.

“No,” she said gently. He looked so confused that she felt she should give him some sort of explanation. It wasn’t just that she had spent little time with him. She had never once considered pursuing a relationship with a human. There were few enough Dalish elves as it was, and they couldn’t afford to have individuals mate outside of their race. It had been instilled in her countless times that getting involved with humans in that way was wrong. She would never be able to return to her clan if she did. But overshadowing all of those considerations were her feelings for Solas, feelings she had just learned were reciprocated.

And she would never be comfortable if any part of James was using her as a replacement for Makenzie.

“I’m… already involved, and I don’t think… this wouldn’t be good for you.” James cleared his throat and took a step back.

“Right… sorry,” he mumbled, then turned and quickly left the keep. Nassella watched him leave, her heart sinking slightly. She had not realized he had developed feelings for her, and she hated to think she caused him pain. But he had been drunk. It was possible in his state, in the dim light, he had thought he saw Makenzie, and acted accordingly.

She sighed and continued to her room. _I hope he was just confused. I don’t want things to be awkward… But he’s an adult. He’ll figure this out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from game property of Bioware.


	31. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little over two months have passed. The Inquisition has been rebuilding, repairing Skyhold, licking their wounds, waiting for the worst of winter to pass before moving forward.

“Got you.”

Naomi dropped her arms breathing heavily, a blade at her throat.

“Technically, that wouldn’t kill me,” she wheezed. Nassella sighed, and dropped the knife, slipping around her body to stand in front of her.

“I suppose that’s true, but you could still be captured. And if you really want to defend yourself, you need to be able to land a blow. You’re too timid.” Naomi adjusted her grip on her own blades and rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly at the tightness in her left shoulder. It had been healed by a mage months before, but something wasn’t right, and her range of motion in the arm had been limited.

“I know,” she sighed, “but I don’t intend to be in combat anytime soon... if ever.” Nassella nodded absentmindedly. Finally, the elf turned to her with a small smile.

“Make sure you keep working with the blades, you don’t want to lose the progress you’ve made. But focus on improving with the bow… it’s good to know hand-to-hand combat, but I think that’s where your strength will be.”

“Of course I’ll practice,” she assured the elf. She remembered the day Nassella had showed up with a bow and a quiver, shoving the device into her hands, Sera trailing behind to offer advice. It had quickly become apparent to Naomi that fighting with blades would be difficult, that she was unable to replicate Nassella’s maneuvers with her shoulder. She had learned what she could, but Nassella had decided that a change in weaponry was needed. She had protested at first, not seeing how she would ever have need of the weapon. But eventually her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she now enjoyed spending time at the shooting range. It was calming, in a way, to take shot after shot, making adjustments until the right combination of stress and aiming was achieved to send the arrow thudding into the target. And she found it comforting, to know that she could hunt for food if needed, and liked the growing sense of self-sufficiency she felt as she improved.

“Good. And try not to worry about James too much. He’ll be fine.” Naomi nodded again, fiddling with a blade.

“I… won’t. Not like I used to. I’ve watched him… he’s good. I mean, I knew he could be; when he sets his mind to something, he goes all in, and he’s definitely set his mind to this. But actually seeing him beat almost everybody in the sparring ring… and with his healing. I know he’ll be fine. Plus you’ll be there,” she said with a smile.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t bring him along if I didn’t think he was up for it. And besides, we’re just fighting the undead… they’re pretty slow.”

“Just like zombies, he’ll like that,” Naomi said with a laugh. Nassella furrowed her brows in confusion, but before she could respond a bell sounded.

“Shit, I’m going to be late!” Naomi said, turning to go. “Thanks again, I’ll see you later.”

“No problem. Thanks for the warm-up!” Nassella called as Naomi ran back to the barn. She smiled to herself as she ran up the stairs, lugging the bucket of water she had set by the fire before going to the training grounds. She knew Nassella held back during their lessons. The elf’s real training began once she left.

Naomi shivered as she stripped and rubbed her skin with a wet, soapy rag. It was freezing, but she had no other way to wash the grime and sweat she had accumulated working with the horses and training with Nassella, and she liked to be at least somewhat clean on the days she worked for Leliana.

Satisfied, she dropped the rag back in the bucket and quickly pulled a warm dress over her head. Then she ran a comb through her hair, working out the tangles, and wove the long strands into a braid. She grabbed the pile of papers from underneath her bedroll, and ran down the stairs, making a detour down the line of stalls to give Liberty a rub on the nose and a handful of hay. Then up the stairs and through the kitchens, grabbing a sweetroll from a tray on the way through, up more stairs to the main hall, through the rotunda, stopping to admire the progress Solas had made on his mural, and up the final flights of stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Leliana had yet to finish her prayers, and leaned against the railing to eat her food.

One of the ravens hopped on her shoulder, leaning across her face to get at her food. She shooed the bird off, and he hopped to the railing, one beady eye still fixated on her roll.

“Good morning Baron Plucky,” she said. “I see you’ve returned. How was it out there?” The bird ruffled its feathers, cawing slightly and took a step toward her. “That bad?” she asked with a grin, offering him a crumb of her roll. The raven quickly plucked it from her hand and she stuffed the rest into her mouth before he could beg for more. Suddenly he flew, landing on Leliana’s shoulder as she walked over from the small shrine tucked into the wall.

“Good morning,” Leliana said as she rubbed the bird’s beak affectionately.

“Morning,” Naomi mumbled through her food, following the Spymaster to her table, taking a seat.

“Do you have any questions from last time?”

“No, I believe I am ready for the next set.” Naomi smiled, handing Leliana a list of English words. The Spymaster had insisted on learning to read some of the language herself, not content to have reports sent across Thedas that she could not read. But the going was slow, even being the fast learner that she was.

After the lesson with Leliana, Naomi moved to the other side of the rookery and met with the group of Leliana’s agents she was teaching. She reviewed the symbols, based on her own alphabet, and their corresponding sounds, then passed out copies of messages for the agents to translate back into Common. As they finished, she checked their work, pointing out mistakes and answering lingering questions.

“Alright,” she said to the final student. “I’ll see you on Friday for our last lesson. Keep reviewing the symbols and you should be just fine.”

“How’d you come up with this anyway?” the man asked as he stood from the table. Naomi collected the papers from the day’s lesson and tossed them in a fire.

“I just made it up,” she said easily. “My mother was very nosy, and when I was younger I was convinced she would read my journals, so I made it so she never could. This is an expansion of that early code.” The man raised his eyebrows.

“What could your entries possibly have contained that your mother couldn’t read.” Naomi grinned.

“Mostly complaints about her.” The man laughed as he walked away and Naomi shook her head as she gathered her materials. _Lies on lies on lies…_

She dropped down a floor, glancing around the library with a fond smile as she passed through, remembering the days she had spent scribbling on parchment and pouring over books, trying to adapt the English alphabet to the common language of Thedas. The Thedas alphabet was longer, not to mention the different sounds that English did not contain, and she had decided to draw from her knowledge of French and Spanish to fill in the gaps. Eventually, she had settled on a code that Leliana was happy with, and started the task of teaching.

“Have you finished the book I recommended?” Dorian called as she passed his corner of the library. She pulled up short, stopping at the entrance to the alcove.

“Yes, I did. I was actually hoping to get another recommendation. Have you found any more about plants or animals?” The mage hopped up from his chair, placing a hand on his chin as he looked over the shelves.

“My, my, your pace really is astounding, I’ve nearly run out of decent books to offer. And I’m afraid you’ve exhausted all of the books on those particular subjects. I submitted a list of titles to our friend the Inquisitor, but it seems we will have to wait until the passes are clear before they can arrive. How we will survive much longer in this isolated, Maker-forsaken icebox I cannot fathom…” Naomi smirked. It was not the first time Dorian had complained about the library’s selection, or the cold, but they were never completely serious.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “My grandfather always said the cold builds character.” Dorian snorted.

“Utter nonsense. I developed _plenty_ of character in the balmy climes of Tevinter…” He pulled a book from the shelf, swiping the dust from the cover. “I’m afraid the best I can offer is another book on Chantry history.” Naomi took the offered tome, flipping through the pages.

“That’s alright. The other ones have been interesting, I’m sure this one will be too.”

“I weep for your taste.” Naomi giggled.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I enjoy almost everything at this point.”

Solas was in the rotunda the second time she passed through, sitting on the scaffolding while he painted. He seemed deeply involved, so she moved through the room without disturbing him. She considered briefly how strange her relationship was with the elf. He probably knew more about her secrets and fears than anyone, including her brother, but they hardly spoke outside of the Fade. Although, she suspected she avoided speaking with him while awake _because_ he knew so much…

But she could not deny the elf had helped her, showing her the Fade and its inhabitants. Things were less scary with him around, and she was beginning to enjoy the Fade and its possibilities. Her nightmares had subsided, and although she did not spend every night dreaming with Solas, she always knew he was near enough to help if they returned.

In the main hall she found James sitting at one of the tables, a plate piled high with food in front of him. She sat across from him, grabbing a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese.

“Get your own,” he mumbled through a bite. Naomi just grabbed another piece of cheese, grinning.

“This is all I want. I don’t have time to get my own.”

“Oh yeah? What do you have to do?” Naomi blushed slightly, quickly taking a bite of bread so she could compose her thoughts before answering. Leliana wasn’t the only one who had decided to learn to read some English.

“I have a meeting with Cullen,” she said once she had swallowed her food.

“Good luck with that,” James said. “He was _not_ in a good mood at drills this morning. Even I had trouble keeping up.” Naomi shrugged.

“I think it will be fine.” She knew Cullen pushed his troops hard, but that was to be expected. He was the Commander after all. But he had always been amicable during their lessons, regardless of his demeanor in the training ring, and she looked forward to their lessons.

“So,” she continued, “are you ready for tomorrow?”

James’ face split into a grin. “Yup!” he said enthusiastically. Naomi nodded.

“Good… Be careful out there.”

 “I’ll be fine. Quit worrying.” She sighed.

“Well, I’m going to worry a little bit… but I know you’ll be fine. I mean, I think I _almost_ saw you beat Bull the other day,” she said with a smirk.

“I straight up _did_ beat him last week,” he said proudly. Naomi’s smirk turned into a smile.

“Nice!” James cleared his throat.

“I mean, he mayhave tripped over a cat, but that could happen in battle. It still counts.” He stuffed more food into his mouth. Naomi laughed.

“I can’t argue with that. I couldn’t beat him if he tripped over a horse.” Then she sobered, and looked at her brother intently. It was strange to see how he had changed over the last couple of months, visibly stronger and fitting into his role as a soldier well. She still felt a little awkward walking around the castle, and tried not to draw attention to herself, but James walked around as if he belonged, which she supposed he did. She wished she could have his confidence.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she said quietly.

“It’ll only be a few weeks,” he responded, giving her a small smile. Naomi nodded absentmindedly, chewing on cheese, and watched as a pretty serving girl with black hair made her way down the table, lugging a large collection of dirty plates. She stopped by James’ side.

“Are you finished with that?” she asked James. James stuffed the last bit of food in his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said through his food, “here you go…” But before he could hand over the plate he stopped. “Let me help you with that,” he said as he stood, taking the plates from her hands.

“That really isn’t necessary…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This will go faster with two people.” The girl looked James up and down, then nodded, and Naomi watched as they walked down the table, the girl adding more plates to the stack as they went. She sighed as she stood from the table. _Yes, he fits in better than I do…_

A bell tolled through the castle, marking the changing hour, and Naomi gasped, grabbing her things. She passed back through the rotunda, surprised when Solas called her name from the scaffolding.

“Yes?” she asked, shooting a glance toward the outer door.

“You are aware that I will be leaving for Crestwood in the morning with the Inquisitor?” She nodded. “And you will be comfortable with my absence?” Naomi swallowed the lump in her throat, but nodded.

“Yes, I… I’m not afraid anymore.” Solas raised an eyebrow, as if he did not believe her, but Naomi stood firm. In truth, she was a little terrified of what would happen once the mage left the stronghold, but it could not be helped, and she really w _as_ less afraid. It was time to see if everything she had learned would work.

“I, for one, believe you will be fine.” Naomi lifted the corners of her lips.

“Thank you, Solas, for all of your help.” The elf nodded, returning to his painting. Realizing she was late, Naomi rushed out the door, the cold wind slapping her face, and even thought the sky was clear, small crystals of ice stinging her cheeks. Apparently spring had started, but it was not yet obvious this high in the mountains. But despite the cold, she paused outside of the door to Cullen’s office, preparing herself. Most of her nerves about meeting with Cullen and subsided as she spent more time with him, but she inevitably got a few butterflies, her heart fluttering slightly faster than normal, every time she saw him. But after a few deep breaths she was ready, and opened the door.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen stared at the papers on his desk, willing his mind to work. But the figures swam in front of his eyes, and instead he pushed them away in disgust. He sat back in his chair, rubbing a temple. _If this continues, I’ll have to speak with Cassandra. I’m not sure the Inquisitor really understands what giving up lyrium is doing to me... I’m not sure I do…_

A bell tolled, and Cullen opened his eyes, noting the location of the sunlight slanting through the window across the floor. He stood, crossing the room to his bookcase, pulling a small, inconspicuous book from a shelf. He flipped it open, scanning the neat rows of words he had scrawled in his blocky print. Any second, Naomi would peak her head around the door with a smile and try to teach him more. The going was painfully slow, as he had little time to learn, or practice, and he wondered why he still bothered. It had seemed a good idea, at the start, to have a way to communicate with the Inquisitor, or even Leliana, without fear that any intercepted correspondence would be used against them. But he had never learned another language, never mind one with a different alphabet.

He shook his head, closing the book. His returned to his desk and closed his eyes. His head was already pounding, and he didn’t imagine he would be able to learn much of anything. _Maybe I should cancel…_

But he immediately discarded the thought. He looked forward to his meetings with Naomi, short as they were, and not even a migraine would keep him from that time.

But she was late. Cullen opened his eyes and frowned. She was never late, often coming through the door before the bell’s toll stopped echoing off of the walls. Worried, he stood from his desk and crossed the expanse of his office. But just as he reached the door it was pushed open, bouncing off the toe of his boot.

He heard a gasp, and a whispered, “Schijt…” and then Naomi’s voice calling “Sorry!” from the other side. Cullen took a step back, pulling the door with him as he did.

“Naomi. It’s alright,” he said. “You were just late…” He paused, taking in the sight of her slightly windblown hair and flushed cheeks, wide eyes and toothy grin. But then she swept past him, rushing through an apology.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I ran into Solas on my way over here…” She turned to him and smiled. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.” Cullen sighed and closed the door.

“No, it’s quite alright. I was just worried something had happened...” He turned back around to see her still grinning.

“Oh, well, I’m fine. Thanks, though…” She held up the papers she was holding. “So…”

“Yes, of course,” Cullen said as he walked back to his desk.

“How’s your day been?” she asked conversationally as she took a seat on the stool across the desk from his own chair, flipping through her papers and pulling one from the middle of the stack. He cleared his throat.

“Busy, as usual.” Naomi nodded, glancing at the papers strewn across his desk. He had been going over the latest troop numbers and inventory, preparing requisition requests, and the half-finished figures were clearly visible.

“Ah, math,” she said with a knowing grin. She stood and bent over the desk, inspecting the papers more closely. “I wish I could do math like that in my head. I can do easy stuff, but normally we would just rely on calculators.”

“Calculators?”

She grinned, glancing from the papers to him. “Sorry I keep referencing things you don’t understand. Calculators are machines that do figures like this.” Cullen rubbed his temples.

“I could certainly use something like that today,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“Are you feeling alright?” Naomi asked quietly. He looked into her blue-green eyes, her thick brows furrowed in concern, and dropped his hand, not realizing he had let his discomfort show.

“Yes, of course,” he said quickly.

“Are you sure? Because we can do this another time if you’re not…”

“No, you’re here now. I’m ready.” Naomi searched his face, but soon nodded and sat back down, handing him a new list of words.

“Before we start on the new stuff, do you have any questions…?”

Halfway through the lesson Naomi had moved from her stool to stand next to his chair, leaning slightly toward him as he went through the entire list of words she had taught him so far. He could recall fewer than he would have liked, and though she was endlessly patient, he quickly realized she was actually more distracting than his headache.

They were not touching, but it was almost worse, having her so close that if he shifted a leg or lifted a hand, they would be. He watched her callused hand move down the page, pointing to the words he missed, and wanted to take it in his own. When she leaned even closer, he could detect the faint scent of smoke and hay that clung to her hair, and he wanted to pull the strands from her braid, bring them to his nose so he could breathe her scent more deeply…

He shook his head slightly to clear the thought. He didn’t know what had come over him, why he continued to harbor feelings for her, why they continued to grow. He was familiar with attraction, infatuation… but those had always been fleeting feelings. He had taken no vows of celibacy as a Templar, but he had realized, rather quickly, that joining the Templar Order meant he had given up chances of a normal life with wife and family. He was not one for causal encounters, and after a couple, brief, dalliances early in training, had instead focused his attentions on his work. And then with the Blight and his move to Kirkwall... he had concluded that any hopes of a relationship were gone.

And perhaps that was it. He had left. He was no longer a Templar. He was free of the Order, of the Chantry, of lyrium… or at least trying to be. Even with the weight of Corypheus and his plans hanging over the world, his future seemed more open now than at any other point since he joined the Order.

But that did not explain his interest in _this_ woman.

“I do not understand why the same word can have such different meanings,” he muttered at one point. Naomi chuckled in his ear, the sound pulling a smirk from his own lips.

“Yeah, sorry about that. People back home complained about it all the time. I think it’s because… well, my language is a mixture of a lot of other languages, so things got repeated. It’s also why we have so many different words that mean the same thing.”

“It’s rather… inconvenient,” he said. She laughed, and his heart thumped. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, noting the way her lips were still upturned in a smile. She was so close. It would be nothing to turn her head, claim those laughing lips with his own…

It was her laugh. Or it had at least started with that, he decided, remembering the first time he had seen her smile, back in Haven. Her smiles and laughter came easily, and she never held it back. It was nothing like the calculated twittering of the Orlesian nobles. Naomi laughed and smiled genuinely, more than the average Ferelden, and far more than the average Templar or Circle mage. It was… refreshing, after his years in Kirkwall…

And there was the problem. Kirkwall. He had done the right thing in the end, supporting the Champion and protecting the mages. But until that point, for _years_ before that moment, he had done nothing. Had followed the orders of Meredith without question, blamed mages for the world’s problems, for _his_ problems, turned a blind eye to the atrocities committed at the Gallows…

He knew she sympathized with mages, had not been taught to fear or hate them from childhood. How could he expect her to accept or forgive what he had done in the past? He had not even forgiven himself. That was why he was here, with the Inquisition, to help right the chaos he had helped foster. She had enough sorrows to bear, adding his own shortcomings would be unfair.

Not to mention the fact she had given no indication she was interested in him in that way…

A hand landed on his arm, near the elbow. Surprised, he realized he had been staring at the desk and instinctively brought a gloved hand to cover the one on his arm, looking into her worried eyes.

“Cullen?” Naomi asked. “How about we call it a day? You seem distracted…” He felt himself nod. _Yes… distracted…_

“Cullen?”

He realized he had been staring at her, and quickly cleared his throat, looking back to his desk. “Yes, that’s a good idea. I really should finish these,” he said, nodding to the figures. His migraine had subsided to a simple headache, and he believed he could finally accomplish the task. He felt movement under his right hand, and, glancing down, realized it still encased Naomi’s. He quickly let go, but her hand remained a heartbeat longer, and she only let go after giving his arm a small squeeze.

“I’ll… see you on Friday then,” she said, standing straight and collecting her things. Cullen stood as well, following her to the door.

“Until Friday,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

“Bye,” she said through a final smile. When she was gone he shut the door and leaned his forehead against the wood. Slowly, a small smile spread across his face.

_She called me Cullen…_

_I really should correct her if she does it again._

But as he returned to his desk he knew he wouldn’t.


	32. Crestwood

James felt a calm sense of satisfaction as the walking corpse slumped to the ground, its head already lying in a puddle a few feet away. He lowered his sword slightly, turning quickly to see how the rest in the party were fairing, pleased to find the final combatant burning to a crisp from a blast of magic from Solas. “Well,” Nassella said, rolling her shoulders, “we better keep moving, I have a feeling that won’t be the last of them.”

James secured his blade on his back and fell into step behind the elf, nearly jogging along the muddy road toward the town of Crestwood. His heart was still pumping from the altercation, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins was from excitement, not fear. It wasn’t exactly difficult to fight the undead; their movements were slow and unrefined. But they were persistent, and blows that would cripple a living human often did little to these living dead.

Though he wasn’t afraid, he had retained a few reservations on the journey to Crestwood, acutely aware of how little experience he had compared to those he travelled with, knowing he could count on one hand the number of people he had killed…

But he wasn’t worried about killing again. He had come to terms with that. It was necessary, in this world, and there were things like demons and the undead that could only be dealt with by killing. He would do what he had to, to keep himself, and those he worked with, safe.

No, he had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to kill _enough._ Not that he w _anted_ to kill a lot. He just wanted to be able to keep up, to contribute. Training with Bull had been better than he could have hoped, the giant Qunari having him drop the shield for good, working with him to find ways he could incorporate his unique ability into his fighting style. It had been exhausting, but James knew the work was paying off every time he sparred with anyone else, as he found he had surpassed nearly every recruit who had joined around the same time he did. But even with all of the evidence suggesting he could do this, he still remembered that first trip to Val Royeaux, and feared he would once again choke.

However, their first skirmish since arriving in the area had gone smoothly, boosting his confidence. He knew there were far worse things to face, but it was a good start. They rounded a corner and another group of undead appeared, just outside the crude wooden walls of the town. He pulled the greatsword from his back, shooting a glance toward Nassella. Her blades already drawn, she motioned forward. Attacking the undead was less about tactics and stealth as it was moving quickly and hacking to pieces.

And hack he did. Charging ahead with Blackwall to draw their attention, James swung his sword, knocking the first body to the ground. But it was wearing a breastplate, saving the creature from being cut in half. James decapitated it before it could stand, and turned to the next. Crossbow bolts already riddled the creature’s body, but it staggered forward and James caught a couple of blows from its sword on his own before removing an arm with a quick slice. He kicked the corpse over and stabbed it through the heart, satisfied when its wiggling stopped.

He looked up and the fight was over. It was scary, how efficient the others were. From the looks of it, three bodies had been clearly burned to oblivion by busts of magic from Solas, and Nassella, Blackwall, and Varric had somehow split another eight or so between them.

“Good work,” Nassella said. James jumped slightly, unaware the woman had been so close. She inspected his victims, pulling a dagger from one of their hands, looking it over before dropping it back to the ground. She gave him a sideways smirk. “I knew you’d be fine.” Then she turned to the group at large.

“Alright, let’s find the mayor and see about getting to that rift…”

Walking through the town was a shock to James. While this world lacked the conveniences he was accustomed to, he had not known hunger, or poverty. Even in the earliest days at Haven he had been given enough food. But walking through the village of Crestwood, he realized his own experience had likely not been normal. The people in Crestwood were suffering, and had clearly been doing so for some time. He was once more reminded how much he owed the Inquisition.

An hour or so later they stood on a hill overlooking Caer Bronach, scouting out the defenses of the highwaymen occupying the keep. Only none were visible at the moment.

“What do you think Blackwall?” Nassella asked. “Can we get in?” The warrior shifted on his feet, eyes squinting slightly in the rain.

“Aye my lady. Those doors are half rotted off their hinges, James and I can make short work of them.” The elf nodded.

“Alright, I don’t see any archers on the walls. We can get closer with that line of bushes, and take care of the doors before they can raise an alarm. We’ll be inside before they know what’s happening.” James nodded, wiping water from his eyes. This was going to be more difficult than fighting the undead, and not just because they wore more armor and would move more quickly. These were actual people, and James had to take a moment to remember they were bandits who were terrorizing the people in Crestwood and anybody moving along the roads. They wouldn’t be reasoned with, so they had to die.

He gripped his sword as he followed Nassella. She reached the end of the foliage and peaked around the leaves. She nodded to Blackwall, then sent one to him. It was time.

He and Blackwall burst from cover, feet pounding through the mud. They ran to the large wooden doors, hacking through the rotting wood as quickly as possible. Blackwall kicked, and the doors swung inward and James pushed them open the rest of the way with a shove from a shoulder.

He stepped through the gates and heard the whiz of an arrow as it passed his ear. He ducked instinctively, searching for the archer. But before he could find him, he saw movement along the ground and was barely able to brace himself before a dog-like animal rammed into him.

He stumbled back, swinging his sword wildly to keep the animal off of him. He caught the animals face, but it was wearing some sort of armor that protected it from more harm. He grit his teeth and continued to batter the animal, for so long as he used his sword it couldn’t get near. Finally a swing found a gap in the dog’s armor and it began to limp. James kicked it over and finished it with a stab through the chest. James pulled out his sword, stomach flopping slightly at the sight of red blood staining the blade.

An arrow bounded off of his shoulder and James winced, any thoughts of remorse gone. _They’re trying to kill you…_

Trusting Solas or Varric would find the archer, he glanced around and saw Nassella dancing circles around a well armored bandit with a mace, trying to find an opening. James raised his sword and charged, yelling at the top of his lungs as he did.

The bandit faltered, turning his head toward the new threat. It was all the opening Nassella needed, and the man fell to the ground with a slashed throat. She gave James a nod and motioned with her daggers. They pushed further into the keep.

It was clear they had caught the bandits by surprise, half of them staggering out of side rooms still strapping on armor and weapons. They were also spread out, so they only ever met a few at a time. It made things easier, and the rain likely covered much of their approach.

It was also clearly advantageous to have a mage, as nearly all of the bandits flinched or stared when Solas called lightning from the sky or shot fire across the stones. And Nassella hopped around the field, sneaking up behind those engaged with Blackwall or James, daggers deadly and often dripping with poison, while Varric skirted the edge of the fighting, finding the archers and picking them off with well-aimed bolts from Bianca.

They found the highwayman leader in the furthest corner of the keep, and James was glad he had spent the last couple of months with Bull, not sure how he would have reacted to such a large man swinging a maul otherwise.

But this was a man fighting for his life, and James was unprepared for his ferocity. Blackwall was engaged elsewhere, and James was the one who found himself face to face with the giant man, a few doubts stabbing their way into his mind as he watched him approach. But he pushed them away. It was not the time.

His arms rattled with the force of the first blow, and he staggered back, bringing his sword up to deflect the second strike. He spun away at the third swing, feeling the maul brush the metal of his armor. He took a few steps back, looking for weaknesses. The other man wasn’t wearing much armor, so he really couldn’t go wrong. Deciding on a plan, James adjusted his grip and charged.

He saw the swing coming and ducked, aiming his own blade at the man’s unarmored leg, satisfied when he sliced through flesh. But the man barely stumbled, and turned faster than James expected with a roar. He couldn’t bring his sword up in time, and instead blocked his face with an arm.

He tried to move with the blow, to minimize the damage, but still yelled at the pain when the blow landed, losing his grip on his weapon. He ducked away from the following swing, backing away to regroup. And kept backing up, because the giant kept coming. His arm slowly stopped hurting, whatever was wrong with it healing, and he had just devised a plan to dodge the man and retrieve his weapon when he felt his foot run into something, and he tumbled to the ground.

He tried to scramble backwards and onto his feet, but the bandit swung, this time catching his shoulder, which erupted in pain.

“I need help!” he yelled, slightly out of breath, afraid no one would hear him…

“James!” he heard Nassella yell from across the yard. He saw the next swing coming, and rolled away, satisfied to hear his opponent yell in frustration when he missed, the maul landing heavily on the stones. Then he heard him roar in pain, and when he looked back saw that Solas had sent a bolt of lightning through the man. He had dropped to a knee and James stood quickly, jumping over debris to find his dropped weapon. Safely in his hands he turned back to the highwayman, seeing he was now engaged with Blackwall. James ran toward the skirmish, pausing a heartbeat as the man swung his maul in a wild circle. When he finally came to a rest, turned away, James struck, once again aiming for the man’s exposed legs, this time causing enough damage to bring him to his knees. And then Blackwall was there, running a sword through his neck.

“You alright?” the Warden asked. James nodded, rolling his shoulder. It was fine.

 _I need to be more careful,_ he thought as Nassella raised an Inquisition flag on the flagpole. _I’m not sure I could recover from a blow to the head…_

 

\----- 

 

They stayed in the keep that night, resting for the next day when they would address the rift that was somewhere in the caves below the now drained lake. A few scouts and soldiers from the Inquisition camp had arrived around sunset, and James had written a report, dictated by Nassella, which had been sent on the leg of a raven for Skyhold. Now that they had the keep, more troops could be sent to occupy the area, ensuring greater stability. 

James was sitting by a fire, unable to sleep. He was still a little physically worked up from the day, but what really kept him awake were his thoughts.

He had never had a good idea of what he wanted to do with his life growing up. He had harbored dreams, like any child, of playing for a professional football team, but other than that, nothing had appealed to him. And he was always too scrawny as a child to really consider that sports were in his future.

Subjects in school would occasionally catch his interest, especially anything to do with history or geography, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about grades if he couldn’t see what he was working for. He focused more on being with friends, enjoying his childhood before it was gone.

He went to college because it was expected, and to avoid the workforce for another four years. It took him until the last minute to decide on a major because he still didn’t know what he was working toward. All he knew was he couldn’t stand the thought of working in an office, stuck doing the same tedious things day after day. Especially after growing up with his mother. She worked selling _paper_ of all things, and was always in a bad mood, taking her frustrations out on the family. He couldn’t imagine working at something worthless, something he hated, for the rest of his life.

Nothing he could imagine from back home compared to this. He thought he had known what to expect in Crestwood, remembering what that first trip to Val Royeaux had been like. But he had been inexperienced then, even more so than now, and still reeling from the experience of being brought to Thedas.

Now, finally able to contribute, he knew that this was what he wanted to do… whatever ‘this’ was. Working with this small group of competent, efficient people, travelling to new places, every day different and exciting. He didn’t enjoy killing exactly, but he enjoyed the idea that things were now safer for others, and results were immediate. Writing papers for classes had seemed pointless, but he could clearly see how weeks of training had prepared him to help fight the undead and clear out the fortress. He knew he couldn’t yet be compared to any of the others, but he finally felt the pull to work until he could.

“James?” He looked up from the fire, and smiled as Nassella took a seat a couple of feet away.

“Hey,” he said. She smiled back.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No… I’ve just been thinking about today.”

“You did well… though taking on the leader by yourself wasn’t the smartest.” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah… I didn’t really mean to, and pretty much ran away the whole time. But it worked out in the end… thanks to Blackwall and Solas.”

“True. Half the time I’m running away as well, waiting for an opening. It doesn’t have to be pretty, as long as it gets done.” They sat in silence for a couple of moments. James felt his gratitude for the woman growing as he watched the flames, knowing he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.

“Thanks, again, for bringing me. I’ve really liked it.” She shot him a glance and wrinkled her nose.

“Even with the rain?” He smirked. The rain had definitely been somewhat of a turnoff, but weather happened.

“Even with the rain.”

“Well don’t thank me. You put the work in.”

“But I wouldn’t have gotten the chance without you. You believed in me.” He blushed slightly, unsure of why he was telling her that much. But he felt comfortable talking to her… and she supported him. She looked at him with a confused expression.

“You say that like it doesn’t happen often.” His blush deepened, but he was in too deep. He liked Nassella. He liked her a lot, and he wanted to talk to her honestly, tell her about himself.

“No, it doesn’t… or didn’t. My parents kind of thought I was a screw up. Every time I lost something, or got a bad grade in school, they would yell at me, let me know everything they thought I did wrong. My mom was the worst. She always blew tiny problems way out of proportion, telling me I was stupid or worthless.” Nassella was frowning.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that, knowing how hard you’ve worked here. Naomi’s made some comments about your parents, but I figured she was exaggerating.”

“She probably wasn’t… it was bad. Honestly, it didn’t help having her as an older sister. She did well in school and always did what our parents wanted. It’s just how she is, but they wanted me to be more like her. But Naomi was always the most supportive… though even she won’t hesitate to let me know if she thinks I’m doing something wrong.” He shrugged. “I just fight back because usually she’s not actually right.” Nassella chuckled.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.” She looked at him with another, sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents… that can’t have been easy to deal with.” James stared at the fire.

“I ignored it. I’d go to friend’s houses as often as possible to get away from them, and I really don’t care what they think. It’s not like they ever cared what I thought about things, or asked what _I_ wanted to do with my life.” _They could yell all they wanted, but I wasn’t trying to impress them… Their opinions really didn’t matter and I was happy just the way I was…_

But then he’d met Makenzie and realized he did care, a little. She believed in him, encouraged him, and he wondered what it would have been like to live with parents who did the same.

His grades had improved after that, not that anyone acknowledged that fact. And he made plans, set his sights on a career path, decided he wanted to spend his life with Makenzie…

All of that had been ripped away in an instant.

“Do you miss them?” Nassella asked quietly. James felt a small wave of guilt. He didn’t really miss them... He had already accustomed himself to living away from them before coming to Thedas, and so things didn’t seem that different in that respect. But he knew they likely missed him… and someday he might as well. But as it was, he hardly thought of them.

“No. I’d distanced myself a long time ago,” he said. Nassella just nodded, no judgement passing over her features. His affection for her grew, and he felt slightly uneasy. He may not miss his parents, but he felt like he should miss his world more. But he didn’t, now that he was finally getting glimpses of what his future in Thedas could be like. He realized that if he had the chance to go back… he would hesitate to take it, even if it meant returning to Makenzie. He had never felt so sure about what he wanted to do with his life as he did now. He felt like he was doing something important, and didn’t want to lose that.

They had lapsed into silence, and James began to wonder why Nassella was awake.

“What’s keeping you up? It’s not your watch.” Nassella sighed.

“I have trouble sleeping if I know I’m going to be closing rifts. I keep thinking that the Anchor will stop working, that the next day will be the one when I can’t close them anymore.” James nodded, realizing how stressful Nassella’s life must be. So much depended on her and the Anchor, and those responsibilities had only increased now that she was the Inquisitor.

“What does Solas say?” he asked. “Wouldn’t he know if that could happen?” He felt a slight stab of jealousy when he talked about the other elf. He had noticed the way he and Nassella talked, the glances they exchanged, and remembered how she had mentioned she was involved those months ago…

“I have. He assures me the Anchor is stable.” She sighed again. “I know it’s doesn’t really make sense, but I worry about it,” she said giving him a shrug.

“It’s alright. I think you have more of a right to be worried than anybody, really.”

“Maybe. But everybody has worries, and mine aren’t necessarily more important. Actually, helping other people with their problems helps me forget mine.” James studied the elf across the fire. The light from the flames danced across her features, casting a warm glow across her smooth skin. Her large eyes were reflecting the firelight, causing them to sparkle, even as her brow furrowed slightly. He couldn’t get enough of looking at her. He had always found her beautiful, and since he no longer had painful memories of Makenzie surfacing when he saw her, he looked at her as often as he could.

It was more than that though. She was one of the kindest people he had ever met, and also one of the strongest. He couldn’t imagine taking on the burden she had, but she seemed to do it easily, keeping her smile and positive outlook. Despite her statement that other people’s worries mattered to her, he felt slightly foolish discussing his past problems about his parents, suddenly finding them very small.

“Well, if you ever need to just complain about things, I’m willing to listen,” he said, grinning across the fire. She smiled back.

“We’ll see.” Then she stood, stretching her arms toward the sky as she did, and James admired the lean, graceful lines of her body. She smiled again when she was finished. “I suppose we should at least try to get some sleep. It will be a big day tomorrow.” James stood, shaking out the tension in his own legs as he did.

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a grin. She giggled, and James felt the urge to kiss her, but immediately chased the thought away. He was still embarrassed of the first time, and he realized he had never actually apologized to her.

“Nassella,” he began, tone serious, “I’m sorry about… kissing you, that night. I shouldn’t have done it without asking…”

“It’s alright,” she interrupted him. “I know things were turbulent, and confusing, for you. As long as it… doesn’t happen again, we will be just fine.” She smiled and James smiled back. It felt good to apologize, even if he felt the pang in his heart at the rejection. But having her as a friend would be nearly as good.

“Don’t worry, it won’t,” he assured her.


	33. Chess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. The chess game!
> 
> And… this chapter is mildly NSFW at one point… because, well, that's life.

Naomi huddled under her blanket, eyes tightly shut, trying to slip into the Fade. She felt the itch at the back of her mind, a constant presence that had grown stronger over the last couple of months, but every time she grabbed hold of the link and started to follow, she panicked and returned securely to her body.

She sighed and turned to her other side, trying not to disturb the bodies of Dane and Erich pressed against her. Sleeping in the stable was convenient for work, but it was freezing, and the stablehands had quickly gotten accustomed to sleeping nearly piled on top of each other, just to keep warm. Naomi had been hesitant at first, especially with her nightmares, but recognized the necessity. It also helped that she had known these people for months now, and the two boys at her side were nearly a decade her juniors. All in all, the arrangement was incredibly chaste.

Still, Naomi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness, reminded that Jaron was not there. It was because of him she was comfortable sleeping next to other men at all, as he had been the first to wiggle his way into her bubble during the last couple of weeks before Haven was attacked with his insistence that sleeping back to back would be the best way to deal with the autumn freezes. She had spent most of her life avoiding contact with others, and with him, she began to realize it didn’t have to be unpleasant.

Turning to lie on her back, Naomi tried reciting one of the verses she had memorized to calm herself. _Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand…_

She was distracted from her thoughts when she heard the unmistakable sounds of sex drifting from the loft above. Raya, Erich’s older sister, had slipped into the barn when Naomi was settling down for the night, shooting her a mischievous grin and dragging a blushing soldier up the stairs. This was turning into their second go, and Naomi tried not to listen. But Raya was not quiet, and Naomi felt her own body responding to the sounds from the hayloft as she imagined their positions reversed…

But no. She didn’t want to think about that, or eavesdrop on the lovers. Normally she could fall asleep at will, enter the Fade and give them their privacy. But tonight she was afraid, because Solas was gone, left that morning with Nassella and James. It was silly, having already spent many nights in dreams alone, but her safety net was gone, and she was irrationally afraid.

_The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul…_

A particularly throaty groan from above and a series of creaks from the floorboards finally drove Naomi from the warmth of her bed, a wave of heat shooting through her core. It was too confusing, to be simultaneously turned on and terrified of assault in the Fade, to stay. Dane shifted a little as she stood, but didn’t wake, and she picked her way over the remaining bodies, stopping to move the coals of the fire into a pile before grabbing a cloak from her bag. She entered the rows of stalls and found her way to Liberty, hopping over the gate. The horse whickered softly from the ground.

“It’s alright, girl,” Naomi whispered, rubbing the mare’s bead before settling down at her side. “I’m just having trouble sleeping…” She snuggled under her cloak, absorbing the warmth emanating from Liberty through the fabric. She leaned her head against her side and rubbed a hand along her neck, humming a lullaby to herself.

_Lullaby, sing lullaby,_   
_the day is far behind you._   
_The moon sits high, atop the sky,_   
_Now let sweet slumber…_

Her mind wandered, replaying the sounds of sex she had heard, imagining what it would be like to drag someone to the stable, roll around in the hay… the generic man in the fantasy turned into Cullen, body pressed to her as he kissed her with his scarred mouth, hips rolling against hers, entering and filling her with full thrusts…

She groaned, burying her head in Liberty’s dusty fur. A wave of desire seared through her, and she could tell she was growing wet, her sex throbbing with every heartbeat…

 _It’s been so long,_ she thought, shifting her hips slightly. _Since before I came here…_

Making a decision, Naomi moved slightly, untying the laces to her breeches. Once they were loose she paused, listening for any movement other than the horses. Detecting nothing she worked a hand under her breeches and smalls, through her curls to her folds. It wouldn’t take long, not after this amount of time…

She shuddered when she reached her core, heat rushing through her body. She was already so close, and her heart rate started to climb as she worked herself with a finger, then two, Cullen’s face clear in her mind as she chased the release she now realized she had missed after so many months…

It _didn’t_ take long, and suddenly she was there, thrusting into her hand as she peaked, body clenching as a wave of pleasure washed over her. She threw her head back, prolonging the sensation as long as she could, taking short, stuttering breaths instead of crying out.

She withdrew her hand from her clothing when she finally relaxed, wiping her fingers on the lowest hem of her cloak. Liberty huffed and Naomi settled back against her side, throwing a silent apology toward the animal. She wasn’t entirely satisfied, and felt a small pang of guilt as she pulled her cloak back around her. It always felt a little… wrong, to picture someone when gratifying herself, so usually the men in her fantasies were featureless. But it wasn’t the first time she had pictured Cullen in such a position, even if it was the first she had acted.

_No. I shouldn’t feel guilty… it’s a normal, human thing to want or do. And I can’t be the only one… not with how handsome he is…_

Still unconvinced, she pushed the thoughts away, settling in to try and sleep.

 

\-----

 

It was with surprise Naomi found herself in the Fade. Even more surprising, though also incredibly relieving, was that she found herself alone.

She still stood tense for a number of moments, warily watching the swirling mist, waiting to see if anything would emerge. But nothing did.

Still, she knew she was truly alone, would be unable to find Solas even if she wanted to…

“You don’t have to be afraid. The demons know to stay away.” She jumped slightly, but immediately relaxed when she found Cole standing next to her, his familiar presence a calming brush on her mind.

“I’m just… nervous, not exactly afraid. And what do you mean, the demons know to stay away?”

“He chased them away and marked the place as his own. His scent still marks you, keeps you safe.” Naomi wrinkled her nose. She supposed he was speaking of Solas, but the elf had never mentioned anything, especially not in those terms.

“Well… that’s comforting, I guess…”

“You’re still afraid.” Naomi sighed, shooting a glance toward the young blonde man. He was looking at the ground, large hat obscuring his face. He had at times spent time with her and Solas in the Fade, and often pointed out interesting things.

“Would you like to walk with me? That would help.” Cole finally looked at her, and nodded.

“Yes… I would like to.”

They started to walk, passing through the misty halls and rooms of Skyhold, reflected in the Fade. The fortress was larger here, rooms repeating and rearranging in endless combinations, even rooms no longer present at Skyhold preserved in memory. When in the mood to wander, she could walk the walls for hours without returning to the beginning, climb the tower until dawn. But sometimes staying still was even more rewarding, as ages of memories passed through a single room.

When not in the grip of a nightmare, she found the Fade to be pleasant, though she thought it strange how she didn’t dream in the traditional sense anymore, any protection around her mind completely gone. Solas suggested she never would again, and it was still bizarre to spend the entire night entirely conscious, as if her mind never got a break. She almost didn’t know what to do with herself.

Even stranger was encountering the dreams of others. Occasionally when walking with Solas they would come across a barrier, muffled shapes and sounds contained within. A hand brushed along the edge could reveal impressions of who the dream belonged to, though she would never enter, even if Solas had not insisted on the importance of staying away.

Naomi and Cole eventually found themselves in the garden, and Naomi settled on the ground, Cole following a moment behind. Everything was in bloom, and the heavy, sweet scent of flowers permeated the air. It was a welcome change from the winter of the waking world, and she hoped the scene wouldn’t move on. She watched a whisp wandering among the trees and finally sighed in relief. Solas had told her whisps usually indicated more malevolent spirits were not around. _Cole must be right…_ Finally realizing she was safe, Naomi laid down in the warm grass and closed her eyes, listening as half murmured conversations floated in and out of earshot. She understood why Solas enjoyed the Fade so much. It could be incredibly peaceful and interesting.

Her mind began to wander, remembering the night she had spent on the walls with Cullen, talking about their interests, and how it made it easier to talk to him even now. Then she recalled her moment in the stables, once again picturing what it would be like for Cullen to touch her like that, if she only had the courage to try and pursue something…

“Kisses trailing and caressing hands, bodies pressed together, moving together, intertwined…”

“Cole!” Naomi said, eyes popping open and struggling to a sitting position. The boy looked at her with wide eyes.

“You want more, want everything. He makes you feel good, safe, but you’re afraid. Afraid he will want too much, too fast…” Naomi stared at the boy, too embarrassed to speak. She had forgotten the boy’s ability to read minds…

“He wants you safe, happy. He cares too much to hurt.” Naomi was blushing, but finally found her voice.

“I... I know he wouldn’t hurt me. It’s not… not that…” _He’d reject me first…_

“The other one hurt, the one you should have trusted. He is gone, but the hurt is deep. It festers, like a sore, too tender to be touched.” Naomi felt tears threatening, but took a deep breath to calm herself. She laid back down, closing her eyes.

“I know you want to help Cole, but I don’t want to talk about this. Please…”

“I didn’t help,” Cole said sadly. Naomi sighed.

“It’s ok Cole, I know you want to. Just stay here with me… that will help enough for now.” She heard him join her on the ground.

They lay in companionable silence for what felt like hours, until a tug at the back of her mind pulled her to wake.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Cullen… you’re doing it again.”

Cullen blinked, looking back to his papers. “What’s that?” But he knew… he had been staring.

“Your mind is wandering…” He chanced a glance toward her, seeing Naomi’s brows furrowed in a concern, searching his face. Abruptly, she stood, putting her papers away.

“Come. Let’s go for a walk, get some fresh air.” Cullen looked at his desk, piled high with paperwork, Naomi’s lesson added to the mix.

“But…”

“Please Cullen. We can still work, just while we walk. You’re not learning anything in here…”

With a sigh, he stood, putting his own things away. It would be hopeless, really, to get anything done with Naomi today. He had chanced across her training in a corner of the yard during his morning rounds of the walls, working through a series of maneuvers with daggers. He had tried not to stare, but found his eyes drawn to the movement of her long legs beneath her breeches as she jumped and stabbed a practice dummy. And when she bent down to pick up a dropped dagger… his thoughts had gone somewhere entirely inappropriate.

To reorient himself he had instead focused on her technique. She moved gracefully, but he quickly noted the handicap of her left shoulder, and that she held back. He considered for a moment that he could offer some advice, provide a chance for her to learn to spar against someone wielding a sword… but imagining facing her in the sparring ring, bodies moving in tandem, sweaty and chests heaving, brought to mind other activities that would involve a similar degree of physical exertion. He had made himself leave at that point. But he only had a few hours before she was in his office, changed into a dress that revealed the curve of her breasts and hips…

He had no doubt which images would fill his fantasies later that night, and thanked the Maker for the cold wind that quickly cooled his response to that thought when they stepped outside. Naomi drew her arms across her chest, but looked to him with a smile.

“Alright, we can walk and review. What’s the word for army?”

“Leger.”

“Good. Soldier?”

“Soldaat.”

“Mmhmm… Commander?”

“Bevelhebber…”

They continued like that across the walls, his knowledge of words becoming less sure as she moved away from military terms. But the wind was distracting, stealing nearly all warmth away, but he didn’t want to suggest returning to his office…

“I forgot how cold it was…” Naomi said, drawing her cloak more securely around her shoulders. “Sorry, we can go back… I just thought…”

“No, you’re right. I needed to get out. Here, I know where we can go,” he said quickly, bringing a hand to her elbow to gently urge her forward, toward a set of stairs along the wall. She took a couple of steps away, putting distance between them, and Cullen dropped his hand, chastising himself. She was obviously not comfortable with him touching her, avoiding contact except for small touches to get his attention. In his experience, interested women encouraged body contact...

But he didn’t need her to be interested in him in that way. As much as he wanted more, he was content just enjoying her company.

He led them to the garden, where the walls of the castle guarded them from the worst of the winds. The trees were barren and dead vegetation littered the corners, but work was being done to clear out any rubble. Naomi smiled while she looked around.

“I dreamed about the garden a few days ago, but it was spring and everything was blooming. I can’t wait for that.” Cullen smiled. He suspected coming here would make her happy, even in its dormant state.

“I believe the Inquisitor is planning to make it into a proper garden, to grow medicinal plants.” Naomi’s smile grew even broader, the dimple on her right cheek standing out sharply.

“Really? That’s awesome!”

They walked through the center of the courtyard and Cullen noticed someone had left a set of chess pieces on the table in the gazebo. He steered toward it, pleased to see all the pieces were present.

“Do you play?” Naomi asked. Cullen picked up a queen, rolling the piece between his fingers, lips turning up in a fond smile.

“As a child, I played with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won, which was all the time. My brother and I practiced for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won…” He sighed, placing the piece back on the board. “Between serving with the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays…” He trailed off, then shook his head to clear the memory. “What about you?”

“Dorian showed me the rules one day. It’s very similar to a game we have back home.”

“Would you care for a game?” he asked. Naomi laughed.

“Oh… I’m not good, but… sure. Prepare the board.” He chuckled, taking a seat and arranging the pieces. He gave Naomi white, and she looked up at him with a smile before moving her first piece.

“Don’t judge me too harshly. I’m afraid I won’t be able to compare to you… or your sister.” Cullen smirked, mapping out a few potential moves before moving a piece. He found very few could compare to himself these days, even cheats like Dorian and Leliana.

After a few moves, Naomi spoke. “You said you have siblings?” Cullen moved a tower.

“Yes. Two sisters and a brother.”

“Hmm… like my family. Except, I’m the one with two brothers and a sister…” She stared at the board, brows furrowed in concentration, before taking one of his pawns.

“I know you have… had… two brothers, but you also have a sister?” He moved a pawn.

“Yes, Abigail. She’s younger than me and James. I’m… very glad she wasn’t with us when we were brought here. I’m not sure how she would have handled living here… And for my parent’s sake…” Cullen nodded, waiting for her to move her next piece. He hadn’t intended for the conversation to take such a turn, and grappled for a way back out.

“What is she like?” Naomi moved a pawn, leaving a knight open. Cullen took a pawn instead.

“She looks more like David, blonde hair, gray eyes. People said she looks like me, but she’s much prettier…” Cullen raised an eyebrow, glancing at the woman across from him. She was studying the board, and he couldn’t imagine any change that would make a face like hers more beautiful… “She didn’t always have the most common sense growing up, but she is very sweet. She’s great with children, and an amazing artist. I wish I could… have gotten to know her more as an adult…” Cullen frowned. His question had not worked to change the subject, and reminded him of his own neglect of his family.

“I’m sorry you are separated from them… I can’t imagine…”

“You haven’t seen your family in far longer,” she said. Cullen sighed.

“I could though… and I could write more often.” Naomi nodded, looking at him with slightly shining eyes.

“Yes… I suppose it is different… I didn’t see them very often before, but now, knowing I never can…”

She finally moved a piece and they continued with the game. She was certainly not a good player, though she improved slightly as the game progressed. She struggled to anticipate his moves, and he knew he could have finished the game quickly. But he decided to prolong their playing, pulling back his more aggressive moves and not capitalizing on her serious mistakes. But as the game dragged on, he suspected she began to catch on, shooting him a small glare through her eyelashes when he avoided taking her queen for a third time.

“You don’t need to go easy on me,” she finally said with a huff. Cullen chuckled.

“I thought the point of this exercise was to get me out of my office? Our outing would have ended in ten moves if I didn’t hold back.” To make his point he moved a mage to finally take her queen, threatening her king. She laughed.

“Yes… I suppose that’s true. I knew you were going to win, I’ve never been good at games like this. James was always the strategist… you would probably enjoy playing with him more.” She moved a knight, taking his mage and protecting her king. He nodded. It was the move he would have taken, though it would ultimately be useless. He had her in three moves.

“Perhaps,” he said as he took his first move, “but I believe I would enjoy your company more.” Cullen flushed. _That was more forward than I intended…_ He looked up to see her blushing and staring intently at the board. S _he could be red from the cold…_ But then her lips pulled up in a small smirk and she cleared her throat.

“Well, I don’t blame you. I enjoy my company over my brother’s as well…” She took her move and glanced up at him, still smiling. He relaxed. _Maybe she’s more interested than I thought…_ “Now finish this game so we can go back inside!”

She fought to the end, and he enjoyed watching her look of concentration across the board and the way her eyebrows moved as she thought. But eventually the inevitable happened.

“Check mate,” he said, leaning back with a smirk.

“Look who’s stuck-up now,” she retorted, raising her eyebrows, reaching to reset the pieces. That got a chuckle, and he joined her in rearranging the board.

“I think I now understand how a bear must feel facing a nug,” he joked. Naomi scoffed.

“I wasn’t that bad!” He raised an eyebrow and she frowned. “Really?” She sounded deflated and… embarrassed?

“You showed improvement,” he assured her, “but yes… like a nug taking on a bear.” She sighed, standing from the small table. He followed.

“Well, I’ll have to take more lessons from Dorian before we play again...” Cullen caught his breath.

“You’d like to play again?” Her eyes got wide and then her face darkened in a definite blush.

“Oh, well… I mean, _I_ wouldn’t mind a- another game, but I know you’re busy…” He watched as she fiddled with a chess piece, amazed at how quickly she could go from confident to flustered…

 _Not unlike yourself,_ he thought wryly. _But that would mean…_

“Naomi!” someone called from across the yard. Cullen turned to see one of Leliana’s scouts approaching. “Sister Leliana needs you in the rookery right away.” Naomi nodded.

“Of course, I’ll go to her at once.” Then the scout turned to him.

“Sister Leliana also wanted you to know she has received a correspondence from the Inquisitor, Commander,” he said. Cullen nodded and the man saluted before walking off. Cullen glanced at Naomi, who appeared to have composed herself.

“Well, I guess I know what Leliana needs me for,” she said. “Sorry we didn’t get very far in your lesson.” They started walking toward the building.

“That’s alright. To be honest, I appreciated the distraction.” And he had, realizing she was one of the only people with whom he had conversations unrelated to the Inquisition and his work. “I would enjoy playing again,” he added, answering her previous question. Naomi looked at him and smiled.

“Oh… me too!” He chuckled, opening the door to the keep, letting her walk ahead of him.

“You said that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaiah 41:10  
> Psalm 23
> 
> Dialogue from game property of Bioware.
> 
> I'm mostly making up how the Fade stuff works… I like to think that lesser demons hanging around Skyhold would have been scared off by the Dread Wolf prowling around every night…


	34. Return to Skyhold

James shifted in his saddle, looking up at the towering mountains reflecting the mid-afternoon light. Skyhold was just barely becoming visible, half obscured by clouds, and he hoped that he would be sleeping within its walls later that night.

“Think we’ll make it back by tonight?” he asked Varric, riding a couple of steps behind.

“I don’t know about you, but I intend to,” the dwarf said. “I enjoy sleeping on the ground as much as the next guy, but I’m looking forward to my bed.” James smirked.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll still be on the ground tonight. Though, it will be nice to not have to worry about a corpse wandering into camp during the middle of the night…”

“Wait, you’re still sleeping on the ground?” Nassella asked, turning in her own saddle from ahead where her hart was walking next to Solas’s horse. “We could probably find you a bed somewhere.” James smiled, but shook his head.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll stay with the other soldiers.” Nassella cocked her head and smirked slightly.

“Alright, but if you change your mind…” She turned forward once again, and James shifted his gaze from the back of her head to see Solas studying him, a dangerous glint in his eye. But he neutralized the look and turned forward, so quickly James almost thought he could have imagined it. But he knew he hadn’t, remembering the one conversation he had had with the elf during their journey.

_It was two days before they had left, nearly everything they wanted to accomplish finished in Crestwood. The rift under the lake had been closed, though not without incident…._

James winced, withdrawing from the memory, rubbing his neck where a terror demon had ripped through the skin, still remembering the pain...

_The creature had spawned from the rift unexpectedly, directly behind Nassella, claws raised. Without thinking he had stepped forward, pushing her aside. But he didn’t have time to defend himself before the claws were there, sharp talons tearing across his neck._

_His vision had faltered for a moment, and he felt lightheaded. For a fraction of a second, he thought that was it. That he had suffered a wound that would not heal before he died. He could feel the blood flowing from the wound, everything fading toward black… and then the pain disappeared. He had realized Nassella had distracted the demon, and stepped forward to destroy it with a single, powerful swing._

_Nassella had turned to him with fire in her eyes. “Don’t do that!” she nearly yelled, gesturing wildly with her daggers._

_“Why?! It would have gotten you!” Her gaze had softened slightly, and she took a step toward him._

_“Don’t take unnecessary risks. Solas keeps barriers over me. You’re not invincible…” And then another wave of demons had spilled from the rift and they jumped back into the fray._

_Several days later James and Nassella were sitting by the fire, talking about what they were looking forward to back at Skyhold. She had admitted she was_ not _looking forward to the pile of work Josephine and Leliana had likely set aside for her, and James had said that rejoining the routine of a normal soldier wasn’t exactly appealing either. But then she had sheepishly admitted that sleeping in her bed would be welcome._

_“Why do you seem ashamed of that?” he had asked. Nassella had sighed._

_“I spent my life not using a bed, sleeping in aravals or under the stars... beds were for shems…” She had looked at him then and given him a small shrug._

_“I take it you realize now beds are actually wonderful.”_

_“Maybe…”_

_“Don’t feel bad about that. I’m realizing that not washing every day is actually really convenient… and my hair’s never looked better.” She had laughed at that._

_“I still can’t believe you used to bathe every day.” It was his turn to shrug._

_“It was more convenient on Earth. I wouldn’t mind going to the tavern when we get back. It’s warm and dry there.”_

_“Ooh! I might join you, I could use a drink…”_

_Their conversation had wandered, and when Nassella left for the night, her seat had been taken by Solas a moment later._

_They had sat in silence for a few moments, the older man staring at the fire with chin on his hands. James had sat patiently, waiting for the elf to speak._

_“She cannot be what you want,” he had finally said. James hadn’t answered for a moment, confused at what the other man meant._

_“And that means…?” he finally asked. Solas had looked at him then, that same dangerous glint in his eye._

_“She is not the one you lost. She may look like the woman you love, but I can assure you they are nothing alike. Nassella’s spirit is like none I have ever encountered. To seek her as a replacement is to diminish everything she is.”_

_James had been dumbfounded, unable to speak as he processed Solas’ words. Then he had been angry._

_“You think I’m trying to replace Makenzie with Nassella?! Sure, they look alike, but I think I can realize they’re different people.”_

_“Then why must you seek her out at every opportunity?” Solas asked, venom in his voice. James had scoffed._

_“Because I like being around her? We’re friends… and I don’t think it’s your place to question who she’s friends with.”_

_“I am not questioning her… I am questioning you.” James had risen to his feet at that point, clenching his fists._

_“You don’t know anything about me.” Solas had stood as well, looking him in the eye, and James was pleased to know he was slightly taller than the elf, and certainly larger._

_“I know she deserves better. She is more than you could ever hope to be.” James had set his jaw._

_“Oh, and you would be better? Some random homeless apostate with the Inquisitor? How would that make more sense?” he had said defiantly. Solas’ gaze had darkened even more and James almost thought the other man was going to hit him, or throw magic more likely. Instead, he had simply walked away, leaving James to fume._

He felt anger rising again just thinking of the memory. He didn’t know where the elf got the idea he could talk to him like that, question his motives. As far as he knew he didn’t mind that Nassella flirted with Dorian or was friends with Varric. James liked spending time with Nassella… she made him feel good, they could talk easily… they even fought well together. But even with all of that, it was clear, to him at least, where her affections lay. Even now she was riding next to Solas, asking him questions, laughing and joking… how could the elf think he was any sort of competition? Nassella had rejected him, made it clear she only wanted to be friends. And he respected that, wasn’t trying to manipulate her. And he certainly didn’t spend time with her because she looked like Makenzie.

He spent time with her because… he sighed. He spent time with her because he liked her. She made him want to be better, though she was one of the few who never asked him to be.

His stomach turned in a knot at that thought. Solas clearly thought that wasn’t the case. _She deserves better,_ he had said. _She is more than you could ever hope to be…_

_No! I don’t need to listen to him. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of, what I could be. What he thinks doesn’t matter… it’s what Nassella thinks._

Shaking the thought loose James looked back up at the fortress. It was still a ways away, but he felt more confident that they would reach Skyhold before nightfall. And he was going to go to the tavern and get a drink, meet up with some of the soldiers he hadn’t seen in a while… maybe he would see if Naomi wanted to come. She would want to catch up, and was always more fun when she was a little tipsy…

Or he could find that girl from the kitchens… Mayra was her name. They had talked a little when he helped her clear the tables, and she had suggested they see each other again. He had dismissed the idea at first, but now rethought that hasty decision. He had always felt the hole losing Makenzie had left, but now he was starting to feel a desire to fill it again. He couldn’t miss her forever. Mayra was an attractive woman, and they had gotten along…

_Yes_ , he thought as he steered his horse to start up the steep path toward the hanging lake just below Skyhold, _I’ll see if Mayra wants to get a drink…_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Nassella stared at the war table, arms crossed over her chest, trying to ignore the headache that was threatening to bloom into a migraine. She was still tired from her travels, and spending a day in meetings hadn’t exactly been her idea of relaxation, her hours filled with tedious and boring discussions of the schemes and empty threats uncovered by Leliana’s agents against the Inquisition, not to mention the requests to deal with nobles and provide favors.

And she had to make decisions about everything. Travelling in the field had been enjoyable, overall, but it meant returning to an overwhelming amount of work, her duties as Inquisitor growing with each day.

At least they had a lead on one of Corypheus’ plans. Empress Celene and Gaspard had called a truce for the summer, allowing farmers a growing season free of fighting to restore food stores, ending with peace talks disguised as a ball after the harvest. It was also the perfect place for an assassination attempt, but Josephine had stressed that the Inquisition would need to gain more influence to secure an invitation.

Just one more thing she had to worry about.

But Corypheus himself had disappeared, and she was kept up late at night thinking about where he could be, if he was already amassing his demon army.

She was beginning to feel overwhelmed, stressed, frustrated…

She wanted to talk, to curl up and spill her worries to someone she trusted, someone who would understand, giver her advice…

She wanted Solas. She wanted to kiss him, hold him, be held by him… but the man had been frustratingly indecisive. It had been months since their kiss in the Fade, and he had yet to make a decision regarding their relationship. She had told him to take all the time he needed, but hadn’t anticipated it would take _this_ long.

She was beginning to doubt whether he still wanted her.

_No, he hasn’t changed how he acts toward me… I don’t think he’s lost interest. But I don’t know what’s keeping him back._ She sighed. _I’m a hunter… I can be patient. We’ve been busy, that’s all..._

A bell marked the changing hour and Nassella sighed again. She was supposed to meet Naomi and Dorian to catch-up over a bottle of wine, but she found she wasn’t looking forward to it. They weren’t the people she most wanted to see at the moment… and they were so cheerful all of the time. She didn’t want to sour their moods with her worries. But wine sounded good. _Perhaps I can get Dorian to scrounge up another bottle_ , she thought as she moved toward the door. _Creators know I need it._

But the door opened before she reached it, Leliana’s hooded figure entering the war room. “Inquisitor,” she said, surprised, “I did not expect to still find you here.”

“I’ve just been thinking,” she said wearily.

“Ah, of course,” Leliana said. “While you are here, I just received a report from…” Nassella held up a hand, cutting the Spymaster off.

“Please Leliana, can this wait? I’m late meeting with Naomi and Dorian.” Leliana brought her hands behind her back and nodded.

“Of course Inquisitor.” Her gaze turned thoughtful. “Have you assessed how Naomi’s training is coming since you returned?”

“No, but it had been going slowly,” Nassella replied warily. It was not the first time Leliana had inquired after the other woman’s progress.

“I can arrange for someone to take over her training while you are away…” Nassella sighed.

“I don’t know Leliana, she doesn’t want anything formal.”

“But think of what she could do!” Leliana said, her voiced raised slightly. “Someone with her ability could be invaluable to the Inquisition. The things I could do with an agent with such abilities…”

“She has no wish to become an assassin, Leliana. I cannot make her…”

“But you can!” Leliana said, eyes flashing under her hood. “You are the Inquisitor, and those in the Inquisition are expected to serve in their best capacity. You have described yourself what James has been able to accomplish, and the potential you see in him. Why is Naomi any different? We must…”

“Enough!” Nassella said. “I will not discuss this now.” For a moment she thought Leliana was going to argue, but she held firm, allowing no further discussion with her gaze. Eventually the Spymaster inclined her head.

“As you wish Inquisitor,” she said before sweeping past her toward the war table. Nassella left the room without looking back, irritated with the other woman. She had made it clear to her advisors that only James was interested in fighting, but when Naomi began learning to use weapons, Leliana had started to push for more. Nassella understood the appeal; she had imagined herself what it would be like if her skin wouldn’t cut. But Leliana would not let up.

And it was starting to work, Nassella realized as she passed through Josephine’s office. She began to wonder what more Naomi could do for the Inquisition…

_No,_ she thought, _one person, no matter their abilities, could change things so much…_

_Except for maybe me,_ she thought with a hint of bitterness.

She entered the great hall and found Dorian and Naomi already gathered, sitting at a table just outside of the door leading to the war room. And she was surprised to find James was with them.

“There she is!” Dorian exclaimed, rising from his seat. “We were about to begin without you.” Naomi snorted.

“You _did_ already start Dorian.” Nassella glanced at the bottle on the table, noting the cork was off and some of the volume had already been removed. She grinned, despite herself.

“Well, we’ll just need to get more,” she said. Dorian chuckled, rubbing his hands together.

“Excellent! I have just the bottle…” he said as he walked toward the library where Nassella knew he had stashed a variety of Tevinter and Orlesian vintages. She turned back to the siblings, taking a seat next to Naomi quietly.

“Can you show me how to use a bow?” James was asking his sister. “I feel like it’d be good to know.”

“Sure,” Naomi replied, “I can get you started. You’ll probably pick it up pretty quickly… at least you’ll already be strong enough to pull back on the thing. Would tomorrow morning work, after I’m finished with the horses?” He shook his head.

“No, I already planned to work with Bull all morning tomorrow… I could do the afternoon though.”

“Alright… I can do that. I’ll just have to be done by the second bell.” James nodded.

“Sounds like a plan. What do you have to do?” Nassella watched as Naomi’s lips twitched at the corners, and her cheeks turned slightly pink.

“Oh, well, I’m playing chess with Cullen.” James raised his eyebrows.

“Really? Since when do you play chess?” Naomi cleared her throat and Nassella could not miss the way she was trying to keep the grin from spreading across her face. Then she shrugged.

“We played one day after a lesson… I was terrible but it was fun, so we’ve played a few times since then.”

“Hm,” was all James said, glancing down the room. Nassella studied Naomi a moment longer. The woman smiled so often that she found it strange she tried to suppress it now. And she looked almost nervous, face flushed while she stared at the bottle of wine, turning it around in a circle with her hands…

Nassella wasn’t surprised. Cullen was a handsome man, and as the Commander, every woman in Skyhold knew who he was. She couldn’t blame Naomi for having a crush on him, especially since she spent time with him teaching him her language.

And she was pleased to hear Cullen was taking time to relax. He had told her he had stopped taking lyrium before she left for Crestwood, but assured her that the Inquisition would always be his first priority. She supported his decision, and wanted him to succeed, but couldn’t deny she had been worried for the Commander when she left, now fully understanding why he often appeared so tired. She had appreciated his dedication, but was acutely aware herself how important moments of respite were. But for him to spend that time with Naomi…

Perhaps her feelings weren’t one sided.

That also wouldn’t surprise her. Naomi was smart, easy to get along with, beautiful… especially when she smiled. And she smiled a lot. Cullen was an observant man; those sorts of things would not have slipped his notice.

Nassella knew she was speculating, but decided to pay more attention the next time she saw Cullen and Naomi together…

Considering the possible relationships of her friends and colleagues reminded Nassella of her own with Solas. _What could be taking him so long to decide…?_

She looked across the table at James, who was still looking down the length of the hall, remembering how he had kissed her. She was glad things had not been too awkward after that, now finding after their trip to Crestwood she enjoyed his company, and considered him a friend.

“Are you joining us tonight?” she asked him. James shook his head, swinging around to face her.

“I’m waiting for Mayra. She had to help prepare the bread for tomorrow, but we’re going to the tavern again.” Nassella furrowed her brows slightly, struck with a small stab of jealousy. She quickly shook if off, slightly confused at her reaction.

_Don’t be ridiculous…_

James was handsome, and they were friends, but she was just frustrated with Solas. Nothing more.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said with a smile. Movement down the hall drew her eye, and she saw the subject of their conversation approaching. Mayra was a slight, pretty girl with dark hair and blue eyes. It looked like she had freshly scrubbed her face and hands, but a few streaks of flour still marked her dress where an apron had not covered the fabric. James stood, grinning.

“Sorry I’m late!” Mayra said, face flushed. “Cook had us make more than usual.” The woman looked to Nassella with wide eyes, bowing her head slightly. “Good evening Your Worship.” Nassella returned the nod and gave her a smile.

“That’s alright,” James said. He turned to Nassella and Naomi. “See you later,” he said before walking away with Mayra.

“Don’t forget tomorrow!” Naomi called after him. James just waved a hand, not turning away from Mayra as they walked. Dorian passed them halfway down the hall, bottle in hand.

“Ah, to be young and in love,” he said wistfully when he reached them, smirking at Naomi. She grinned and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah… I think it’s a little early for that Dorian.”

“Well, he’s certainly having better luck than any of us. Unless…” he turned toward Nassella, raising an eyebrow suggestively. She sighed. _Blast that elf. If he hasn’t decided by the time we get back from the Approach, we’re going to have to talk…_

She stood. “I’m afraid I’m as single as you are Dorian.”

“Whatever could be keeping our resident apostate away?” he asked. Nassella just shrugged, noncommittal. _If only I knew…_ “Pity,” he continued, shaking his head. “And what about you Naomi? Any young stablehands caught your eye? One of the soldiers perhaps?” Nassella watched Naomi’s reaction, but the other woman just snorted, though she flushed once again.

“Yeah, no. Not exactly my top priority at the moment Dorian.” Nassella suppressed a grin. _Liar._ Still, she could understand the woman’s reluctance to reveal her feelings, especially to a gossip like Dorian. And she wasn’t about to reveal her own suspicions on the matter.

“Yes, yes, the end of the world and all of that. Now!” Dorian said, raising the bottle and picking up the other. “Where shall we go? I can offer the library, though it’s not exactly private.” He glanced at Naomi. “I’m afraid the stables are absolutely out of the question.” Naomi laughed.

“Oh come on, you don’t know what you’re missing!” Dorian sniffed.

“I’m afraid I most certainly do.” Nassella chuckled. Even in her sour mood, she couldn’t help but feel better around these two. She started walking.

“Come on, we can go to my room. We won’t be bothered there.”


	35. Bored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been completely changed from the first draft.

“Like this?” James asked, pulling back as hard as he could on the bowstring. Naomi adjusted his elbow slightly.

“You can lessen the tension a little. The target’s only ten yards away, not halfway across Skyhold,” she said.

“Shouldn’t I pull back harder for more force?” he asked. Naomi sighed.

“Not when the target is this close. You’ll have better accuracy if you’re not struggling so hard to keep the string pulled back. You’ll also get tired faster pulling it back as far as you can every time. Just pull back enough to get the arrow to the target for now.” Reluctantly James did as she said and let the arrow fly, slightly disappointed when it only hit the edge of the target. He looked to his sister.

“I thought you said that would help with accuracy.” She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“James, that was your first arrow and you hit the target. I think you’ll be fine.” James grinned and pulled out another arrow.

But it turned out he wasn’t as good as that first shot indicated, as his next few shots all flew wide. Naomi offered a few tips, but he mostly had to work through using the weapon himself. Overall, it turned out to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

He glanced occasionally at Naomi as she emptied her own quiver, and couldn’t help being impressed with her skill. He never saw her miss the target, and he couldn’t fathom how she drew and found her mark so quickly.

While they practiced Naomi asked him about his journey to Crestwood. He briefly described how much the village was struggling and how they took back the keep and closed the rift, glossing over the parts where he got injured below the lake. He also told her about meeting Warden Stroud and the seemingly unending stream of undead that would attack them. He also talked about some of the good times he had sparring with Blackwall, trading stories with Varric, and talking with Nassella. He also told her about his encounter with Solas.

“He said that?” Naomi asked, lowering her bow and looking at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah… he was kind of a jerk about it.” Naomi shook her head and grabbed an arrow to sight another shot.

“That’s bullshit,” she said as she loosed the arrow, “You could totally be with Nassella.” James tried not to grimace.

“Well Solas doesn’t have to worry about anything. We’re just friends,” he said. Naomi sighed.

“Of course he doesn’t have to worry. Doesn’t he realize she’s completely in love with him? That’s not changing anytime soon.” James felt his heart sink. As much as he tried to keep his feelings for Nassella repressed, it was difficult when he spent so much time with her. But he wouldn’t compromise his friendship with her by letting her know that, and while he wasn’t exactly fond of Solas, he wasn’t trying to get between the two elves.

He tried to remember the good time he had had with Mayra the night before.

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. They finished the rest of their round in silence, and when they were both out of arrows they approached the targets to retrieve them. As he struggled to loose the points from the padded target, he addressed his sister.

“You’ve gotten pretty good at this.” He glanced over and saw her grinning.

“Thanks,” she said, yanking on an arrow. “I _have_ been working on this for a few months now, so I hope I’ve picked up a few things.” James shouldered his full quiver and studied his sister.

“I’m glad you decided to learn to use a weapon,” he said. She shrugged.

“You were right. I should have some way to defend myself.”

“What changed your mind?” _I don’t believe it was actually me._ Naomi fiddled with her bow.

“The nightmares… after Haven, they wouldn’t go away,” she said, glancing at him before staring back at the ground. “I kept running into demons and I was afraid…”

“So… learning to fight helps with that?” he asked skeptically. Naomi nodded.

“At first I met Solas in the Fade, and we weren’t bothered. But he can’t be around all the time, so I needed a way to keep myself safe. I don’t have magic, so I learned some things.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, it seems to have helped. I didn’t have any nightmares while you were gone.” James grudgingly felt gratitude toward the bald mage, remembering how little Naomi had slept on their journey from Haven to Skyhold, and how little he had been able to help her.

“So you’re just learning to defend yourself… in your dreams?” he asked.

“Yes. And out here… if I have to,” she replied, though she hesitated.

“Hm,” James grumbled with a nod, walking away to take another series of shots.

“What?” Naomi asked accusingly, following behind. James shrugged.

“I don’t know… it just seems kind of selfish. You’re pretty good with the bow, not to mention your skin won’t cut… I feel like you could do more,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t like hearing his thoughts on the matter.

“Like what?” Naomi demanded, stepping into his field of view. “What more am I going to do? I didn’t ask for fancy Fade abilities,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t _have_ to use them.” James frowned, remembering how much the people in Crestwood had suffered until _they_ came in and removed the threats to the people… by force. He knew Naomi would argue that they could have tried talking, but even if that had worked with the bandits, rifts weren’t going to close by throwing words at them.

“Well, maybe you should rethink that,” he said. “You need to quit thinking that this place is like back home.” Naomi glared at him.

“I don’t need to change what I believe just because I’m in a new place.”

“Yes you do!” he said, suddenly frustrated. Everything about this place was different. “You could get away with thinking no one would have to fight back home… but even there it was never going to happen. The only reason you could think nonviolence was an option was because we were in the U.S.”

“I know that!” Naomi huffed. “But if things are going to get more peaceful overall, we need to stop…”

“No,” James interrupted. “If the Inquisition stopped sending people to _fight,_ more innocent people would die. This isn’t home Naomi. Fighting and killing is how things are fixed. I know you don’t like it, but you have to realize things are not the same.”

“I know they’re not!” Naomi exclaimed. “And I know things need to be killed! Like the demons and red Templars and Corypheus. I know that!” James shook his head.

“So why won’t you help more? You could work for Leliana…”

“No. Not like that.” James frowned.

“What? I know you wouldn’t want to join the army…”

“And I’m even less interested in becoming some sort of assassin spy,” she said shortly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to willingly put myself in a position where I might have to kill people, James,” she said.

“You do realize Nassella is planning on training as an assassin,” he told her. She paused, and he saw her eyebrows draw slightly closer together. But then she sighed and dropped her arms to her side.

“I know she’s doing everything she can to defeat Corypheus, and I won’t fault her for that.” She glanced around the stronghold before returning her gaze to him. “And I’m not angry that you chose to fight, James. I understand what has to be done, and if someone chooses to help by fighting, I don’t think anything less of them. I only wish people would seek nonviolent solutions first,” she said with a shrug. James frowned. He hadn’t really thought that Naomi might be angry with him for choosing to fight. Worried and concerned, yes, but not angry. But she had brought up the problem and assuaged his concerns in one sentence. Still, she was clearly concerned they used violence more than necessary.

“We avoid fighting and killing whenever possible,” he told her. “But it’s not avoidable all the time.” Naomi nodded.

“I know that,” she said quietly. Then she looked at him with a small smile. “And really, I understand why you’re doing all this James. But it’s just not something I want to do… I’m not sure I could bring myself to do it even if I did.” She drew an arrow from the quiver and sent an arrow straight for the target in one smooth motion, sinking the arrow just slightly off center. James watched her take another couple of similar shots, mulling over what she had said. In hindsight, he knew it was foolish to try and convince her to fight more formally, and he couldn’t even remember how they had gotten on the subject. Though he decided he didn’t want to convince her to take a more offensive attitude toward fighting, he wondered how far her claims of wanting to defend herself extended.

“Would you fight if we were attacked here in Skyhold?” he asked. Naomi paused her assault and looked to him.

“I would try. I wish I could have helped defend Haven,” she replied, sorrow in her voice. He nodded.

“Would you help someone if you saw them being attacked.” She frowned.

“Of course I would… I would try. Why are you asking this James?”

“To make sure ‘defending yourself’ doesn’t _just_ apply to you.” Naomi glared at him.

“James, I want to help, and I… I _will_ fight if I have to. But adding one mediocre archer to the ranks, no matter what their skin can do, won’t change much. I don’t _need_ to fight to help the Inquisition.” James sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. She was right, about all of it. All he really cared about was that she would be safe, and knowing that she was now somewhat better equipped to defend herself eased some of his worry, especially since he was so often away from her.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi rubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes, blinking away the fatigue as she glanced around Skyhold’s great hall. She wasn’t sure how long she had been reading, but it had apparently been some time as the room was essentially deserted, the only other occupant a scout across the room who had fallen asleep at their table, the other members of the Inquisition and the visiting nobles gone to bed. Naomi looked back down at her book, knowing she should call it a night and return to her room.

It had only been three days since Nassella had left for the Western Approach with a party to investigate the disappearance of the Wardens, Varric’s friend Hawke in tow. Nassella had taken all of her normal companions, James, Solas, Varric, Dorian, as well as Bull, Cole and Cassandra. In addition, Vivienne was travelling with them as far as Val Royeaux, where she was planning to meet with a number of influential nobles on behalf of the Inquisition. Nearly all of the people Naomi would normally spend time with when she was not in the stables or teaching were gone, and she was already bored. Nassella had only stayed in Skyhold for a week before leaving again, and Naomi was disappointed with the short amount of time there had been to spend with her brother and friends. While she knew she would be nearly useless going with the Inquisitor when she left Skyhold, Naomi couldn’t help but feel jealous of her brother and the chance he got to travel. He was out seeing the world while she was stuck in the stronghold. Alone.

Her vision began to swim, the words on the page blurring together, and Naomi sighed, placing her bookmark between the pages as she closed the book. She was reading some sort of biography of a long-dead Divine, and was having trouble keeping interested. She had read the majority of the more interesting books in the library, and though she knew she would find some way to keep herself occupied, she was not looking forward to the lonely weeks ahead. _At least I can still play chess with Cullen a couple of times a week… maybe he would be interested in playing a few extra days?_

Naomi resurfaced from her thoughts, realizing she had been staring at the throne at the end of the hall. Moonlight was streaming through the stained glass, clearly illuminating the pointed chair, and, she realized, a door along the wall to the right.

Curious, Naomi rose from her seat and approached the door. She knew she must have noticed it before, but had never taken the time to explore what was on the other side. It was unlocked, and Naomi found herself looking down a dark flight of stairs, a slight draft of cool, damp air causing her to shiver slightly. Glancing back at the hall, Naomi grabbed a candle from a table and made her way down the stairs.

The stairwell was narrow, and descended further than she initially thought, making a couple of turns before she finally encountered another door, the faint sounds of rushing water drifting from the other side. After a short moment of hesitation, Naomi pushed ahead.

She found herself in a large cavern, the opposite wall completely open to the outside, a solid curtain of water falling from above, illuminated by the bright light of the moon. In fact, the moon was so bright her candle was almost redundant. She moved into the room, descending a last small set of stairs, realizing she must be where they made armor and weapons, noting the forge at one end of the room, and the tables and stacks of crafting supplies lining the others.

She approached the closest table. Boxes containing a wide assortment of vials filled with colored liquids were stacked at one end, swatches of cloth and minerals next to mortar and pestles at another. Next to the table was a stand with a suit of armor consisting of what appeared to be a skin-tight chainmail suit and leather leggings, an undyed strip of fabric covering the front and the back, leaving the sides open. She recalled seeing some of the Dalish elves wearing similar armor and wondered who this set could be for.

She moved along, noting the tables covered in half-finished weapons, the racks of completed weaponry shining faintly in the moonlight. She eventually made it to the end of the room, peering through the waterfall to see the slightly warped contours of the surrounding mountains, and decided to come back when it wasn’t dark, to appreciate the view even more.

Turning to the table closest to the waterfall, Naomi smiled when she saw there was a book sitting open on its surface. She flipped through a few pages, growing excited when she realized it was filled with information about the medicinal and useful properties of different plants, and even some animal products. Nassella had told her about some ways different plants could be used, but her knowledge had been limited, and Dorian had not been able to find any books in the library that extended on that particular set of knowledge. Inspecting the other objects on the table, an assortment of vials and bottles, stacks of dried plants, as well as mortar and pestles, Naomi realized it was likely where potions could be made. Opening the cabinet below revealed stacks of scrolls, and when Naomi opened one she found a detailed formula for making a lyrium potion. Naomi sat on the ground, digging through the stacks of parchments, finding recipes for potions that would accelerate healing, restore energy, toughen the skin…

“Hi there!”

Naomi jumped, and since she had crawled halfway into the cabinet, hit her head along the underside. “Shit!” she exclaimed, taking a deep breath before more calmly extracting herself from the cabinet.

“Oh, sorry!” the voice said, just as cheerfully, followed by a high-pitched giggle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” Naomi said, rubbing her head slightly as she sat up outside of the cabinet, calmer realizing the voice belonged to a woman. “I didn’t realize anyone else was down here.” She stood and turned, startled to find herself looking down at the smallest dwarf she had ever seen, her features almost childlike. The woman beamed up at her.

“I fell asleep working over there,” she said, pointing toward a table with a complicated pointed contraption on its surface. “I’m not surprised you didn’t see me. I’m Dagna by the way. I just arrived a couple of days ago.” Naomi smiled back.

“I’m Naomi. It’s nice to meet you.” Dagna giggled.

“Likewise.” She glanced around Naomi’s body toward the potions table. “Are you an alchemist?” she asked. Naomi shook her head.

“No, I work in the stables. I was just curious what was down here and found the books… Sorry if I’m not supposed to be digging through that stuff.”

“Oh no, it’s alright,” Dagna assured her. “It’s a shame you’re not an alchemist though. From what I’ve heard the one they have could use some help. He’s tied up helping the healers more days than not.” Naomi looked back at the stacks of scrolls and books.

“I wouldn’t mind learning about it,” she said, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be of much help.”

“I’m the arcanist myself,” Dagna said. Naomi cocked her head slightly.

“Arcanist?”

“I know, ‘How can a dwarf be an arcanisit?’ I get that a lot.” Naomi shook her head, frowning slightly.

“What…? No, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t know what an arcanist is.” Dagna raised her own eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh. Well, I took the title because I’m a magical researcher, philosopher, and master of practical applications. I use magical study, magical theory, and magical enchantment to manipulate masterworks.”

“Masterworks?”

“Using the right runes, the right rarities, to make weapons wonders! With the right bits, edges can be more than an edge. Armor can do more than protect. A hue can be just a bit brighter. In short, I make smithing… more!” Naomi couldn’t help but smile back at Dagna, recognizing the excitement of a scientist when she saw one.

“Rarities… like fade-touched things?” Dagna beamed.

“You know about fade-touched items?” Naomi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, Nassella… the Inquisitor, brought some stuff back from her last trip...” Dagna gasped.

“You know the Inquisitor?” Naomi nodded. “Oh, wow, I can’t wait to meet her. I arrived just after she left.”

“I’m sure she’ll be excited to meet you also,” she said with a smile. Dagna cocked her head to the side.

“So you’re really not surprised I work with magical objects? Enchant things?” Naomi shook her head.

“Should I be?” Dagna laughed.

“I’ve just gotten used to it. Dwarves can’t use magic. Everyone’s told me my whole life that I couldn’t learn these things, but I did, and now I’m the only dwarven arcanist!”

“Well I can’t use a sword, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t learn how it _should_ be used,” Naomi said with a shrug. “Why would you need to be able to use magic to make masterworks?”

“Exactly!” Dagna said excitedly. “And since I’m a dwarf, there’s no risk of possession, which is safer than a mage, and I can work with lyrium without going mad! Plus, I can approach it from a different place, with an objective eye. No secrets, no fears. That lets me apply principles like no other!” Naomi laughed.

“Hey, if it works, I don’t see why being a dwarf would be a problem.”

“I like you!” Dagna said through a laugh. “You should come down here, read those alchemy books. If you’re interested, maybe… Adan, I think that was the alchemist’s name, can show you some things!”

“Oh, that would be… great, actually. I’ll do that,” Naomi said with a smile. Then she was hit with a huge yawn, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said when she was done.

“No worries,” Dagna said, “it’s late. Why don’t you head off to bed? Maybe I’ll see you down here sometime?” Naomi nodded. This was just what she needed to keep herself busy.

“You definitely will!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game belongs to Bioware.


	36. The Western Approach

Nassella nodded as James read the report, trying to decide if her advisors back at Skyhold would want to know any other details about their encounter with the Magister Erimond. No matter what she said, they would not be happy, but she was glad they were finding out about where Corypheus was getting his demon army sooner rather than later.

But her heart was heavy. She had often speculated with her advisors, Solas, Dorian, and even Vivienne about where the demons could come from, but no one had suspected the Wardens would be at fault. But now, everything seemed so obvious.

“Good,” she told James when he was finished, “make another copy and bring them to Scout Harding to send back to Skyhold. Food should be ready by then.” James ran a hand through his beard and nodded.

“So I know the Wardens are important, but why is everyone so… grim? We knew Corypheus had to get his demons from somewhere.” Nassella sighed.

“The Wardens are what have protected Thedas against the Blight for… ages. They’re the only ones who can kill archdemons, they’re immune to darkspawn. But now they’re serving Corypheus, a creature of the Blight himself. Even if they don’t know what they’re doing, our heroes have turned against us.”

“Oh,” James said, moving to rub the hand through his hair. “I… I didn’t really realize…”

“Surely you have something similar from your world? People who are supposed to protect you, and if they stopped…” James nodded.

“I suppose if the military did… or our politie.” He shook his head. “That’s happened before, in other places. Just not where I lived, not to me.” He sighed, looking at her with his brows pulled together. “There’s so many… different problems here that I’ve never had to deal with. I knew where I lived was safe, but I never realized just _how_ safe.” Nassella curled her legs up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them, and gave James a small smile.

“How did your world manage it?” she asked. James pursed his lips slightly, his jaw working back and forth as he thought.

“Well, I guess we haven’t really… not everywhere. And it was only recently that things have settled down where I lived. Less than a hundred years ago there was fighting between countries all over the world…” He frowned. “My country was the most powerful in the world, with the largest military and the most weapons, so I guess there was no one to attack us with a full invasion. But people still tried, just with smaller attacks. And fighting is happening in other places.” Nassella sighed.

“So you have no advice for me?” James shook his head.

“No, I guess I don’t.” Nassella placed a hand on his knee, made possible as they were sharing a boulder as a seat, and gave it a small squeeze.

“That’s alright. It’s… kind of nice to hear that what’s happening here isn’t… out of the ordinary?” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, that’s an awful thing to say, isn’t it?”

“No,” James said, “you shouldn’t have to feel like the only person who has to try and deal with this type of shit.” Nassella smiled. James always seemed to know what to say to make her feel better.

Someone cleared their throat, and Nassella looked away from James, realizing her hand was still on his knee. Solas was standing in front of them, hands behind his back.

“Dinner is ready,” he said. Nassella beamed, jumping off of the rock. She was always happy to see Solas, and remembered she had a series of questions related to the demon summoning they had seen earlier that day to ask him.

“Great!” she said, smiling at Solas until his own lips quirked up in a small smile. She turned back to James.

“You can wait to write that copy until you eat if you want,” she said.

“No, I’ll get this finished before I forget,” he said, holding up the paper before walking back toward the camp. Nassella turned back to Solas, stomach flipping slightly under his intense gray gaze.

“Another report for your advisors?” he asked, turning to stare after James. Nassella watched him frown, and grinned. If she thought Solas a less confident man, she would say he was jealous. And if he was jealous… he shouldn’t be. He was the only one she was interested in, and it was _he_ who had failed to move their relationship forward. She stepped closer and took his hand, a little pleased when he jumped slightly.

“Of course. I do believe they have a right to know about _another_ crazy magister with a plan to tip the world into chaos.” Solas chuckled, pulling her toward the fire where the rest of the group was already gathered.

“I suppose that would be only polite,” he joked. Nassella felt her grin grow, wishing she could stay in this moment of easy comradery forever. But of course it didn’t last, as Solas dropped her hand before the others could notice. Momentarily frustrated, she took an open seat between Varric and Bull after loading a bowl with food. After a few moments James joined them, finding an open seat beside Solas. Then Hawke, sitting on Varric’s other side, spoke up.

“James, I have to ask. How are you not dead? I swear I saw you run through by a sword back there, and you definitely didn’t drink a healing potion before getting right back up.” Nassella grimaced. She remembered that incident, as James found himself in harm’s way when he, yet again, threw himself in front of her before she could be injured, despite the fact she was adequately protected by barrier spells.

“It’d be easier to just show you,” Varric said. James nodded, grabbing a knife and demonstrated for the Champion what his skin could do.

“Well shit,” Hawke said after he had inspected James’ arm to ensure it really was healed. “How’d you manage to get a trick like that? You’re not a mage.” Nassella almost choked on her food. _Shit… How did we not come up with some way to explain what James can do to others…?_

“James and his sister were unfortunate enough to have a rift open up nearly on top of them. I believe an aspect of the Fade became associated with their bodies, enhancing some of their abilities,” Solas said. Nassella shot him a grateful look, and he met her gaze, giving her an almost imperceptible nod.

“Your sister… did I meet her?”

“I didn’t introduce you,” Varric said.

“You may have noticed her though,” Dorian added. “Tall woman, attractive face covered in freckles, brown hair and blue-green eyes like James’. Often seen smiling while riding a spotted horse, reading in the library, or playing chess with the Commander in the gardens.”

“Ah yes, I actually came across one of their games. Can she do the same thing?”

“She doesn’t heal like James, but her skin won’t cut _at all,_ ” Varric chimed in. “I tell you, more weird shit’s come out of this Breach than I could possibly write,” he said, sending James a wink. _If only Hawke knew the whole story…_

Hawke whistled. “No shit? Well, bet that comes in handy. So what? You just let yourself get hit?” James shrugged.

“Sometimes. It throws people off if they think they’ve injured me and I just get back up. I usually try to avoid it though… it still hurts like shit. Not to mention that strategy doesn’t really work against demons. So far it’s mostly just made up for my lack of skill.”

“Ah, you’re not that bad Whiskers,” Varric said. Nassella grinned while James rolled his eyes, running a hand through his scruff, remembering how Varric had given the man the nickname after comparing his facial hair to Blackwall’s in Crestwood. James had muttered about shaving a couple of times, but had yet to act on that.

“I never felt like I needed to save you today, so I’d say you’re doing alright,” Bull said, grinning.

“So it’s some sort of magic…” Hawke said. “Could a Templar remove the effect?”

“What?” James asked. Nassella froze. _How did we not consider_ this?! _We’ve encountered Templars. If one of them could have removed his healing without our knowledge…_

“A Templar?” Hawke continued. “You should know if you’d be vulnerable to them, especially considering how you fight.”

“We’ve never…” James started to say, but Cassandra cut him off.

“Come. We can find out now.” She stood and walked toward the edge of camp, James following behind. Nassella waited a moment, then joined them herself. She knew it was uncomfortable for mages when they were affected by Templar’s anti-magic abilities, and it did not pass her notice that the mages had all stayed firmly around the fire. Cassandra was a few paces away from James when she arrived, explaining what she was going to do.

“You may feel nothing, but if you are affected by the purge, you may feel weak.”

“I’m ready,” James said, standing up straighter. Cassandra nodded, took a deep breath…

Nassella watched James, but a moment passed, then two, and he remained unchanged.

“How do you feel?” Cassandra asked. James looked down at his arms.

“Um, fine? Did you do something?”

“If you were a mage, you would be cut off from your magic. Test to see if you will heal.” James nodded and pulled a knife from his belt. Nassella took a step closer as he nicked the skin on his arm, breathing a sigh of relief when the skin stitched back together just as quickly as it always did.

“Well that’s a relief,” she said, smiling at James. He smiled back.

“No kidding. I’d hate to find out a Templar could remove the healing in a fight. Thanks Cassandra.” The Seeker nodded.

“Of course. Warriors should always explore their potential vulnerabilities before they become weaknesses.”

A couple of hours later Nassella and Hawke were the only ones left around the fire, the others all gone to bed. Occasionally she would catch a glimpse of one of the guards circling the camp just outside of the range of the fire’s light, but otherwise she was alone with the Champion.

“You’ve gathered a good group of people here,” he commented after a few moments of silence. “You’ll need their support before this is over.” Nassella nodded, staring at the dancing flames.

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve only gotten this far because of them.” She shuddered. “I just hope I don’t lead them all to their deaths someday.”

“They know what they’ve gotten themselves into, and I don’t doubt any one of them would die to defeat Corypheus. Or protect you.” Nassella just nodded. Everything Hawke said she had thought before, but never dared to voice them out loud. She wasn’t used to… such devotion. Among her clan, she knew her family would protect her. But they hadn’t counted on her to lead them. Bring back food, yes, but not to save them.

“The only one I don’t really understand is James,” Hawke said. “It sounds like he just started to learn to fight a year ago. He’s not bad, and just as loyal, but even with the healing, why did you bring him along?” Nassella took a deep breath, rubbing an earlobe between her fingers. It seemed that no matter what they did, keeping the origin of James and Naomi secret was difficult, especially when observant people spent a lot of time with them. But Hawke was Varric’s best friend, and she was quickly learning to trust him.

“It wasn’t for fighting at first. He and his sister have their own language that we’ve been using for correspondence. Naomi was even less of a fighter, though she’s gotten pretty good with a bow, so I brought James.”

“How could they know another language…?”

“They’re not from Thedas.” She could see Hawke frown, and smirked, but she didn’t want to keep him in the dark any longer than necessary. “A rift didn’t just open up on them,” she explained. “The Breach pulled them from a different world.” Hawke sat up straight, running a hand along his chin.

“How is that possible?” Nassella shrugged.

“We’re not really sure. Solas could probably give you the best explanation. Even Naomi has her own theories.” Hawke still looked skeptical. “Have James tell you about his world tomorrow. You’ll see it’s all true.” Hawke nodded.

“I’ll do that.” Then he smirked at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I believe you, but this is… a lot to take in.”

“Just imagine how James and Naomi feel.”

“Indeed.” They lapsed into their own thoughts, and Nassella watched as a log broke in half, throwing sparks toward the sky. Talking about her companions reminded her that Hawke had his own group of friends who had helped him during his time in Kirkwall.

“Do you still see your companions, from your time in Kirkwall? Varric’s talked a little about them.”

“It’s been some time, since I left Kirkwall. I write, when I can, but we’ve mostly gone our separate ways. It’s nice to see Varric again. I don’t know what I would have done without him all those years.” Nassella smirked.

“I know what you mean. He’s kept me grounded more than once.”

“And even seeing Cullen again was good. We may have been at odds for most of the time I knew him, but I’m not sure we would have been able to bring down Meredith without his help. And I was glad to hear he left the Templars, especially considering what Corypheus did to them.” Nassella nodded sadly.

“I know. It’s hard to think what could have happened if he hadn’t left. And I can’t imagine anyone else as our commander.” Hawke smiled.

“The Inquisition has definitely been good to him. I’m not sure I can remember seeing him smile in all the years I knew him, but I come here and the first time I see him he’s _laughing_.” Nassella chuckled.

“Varric has said multiple times that he spends too much time with a serious expression on his face, but I’d say that’s not really true anymore.” _Except on the days the withdrawal is particularly bad._

“How much does Naomi have to do with that? It’s nice to see he’s found someone.” Nassella cleared her throat.

“Well… I’d say she’s a large part of that, but they’re not actually together.”

“Oh,” Hawke said, clearly surprised. “When I saw them in the garden, I just assumed…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nassella said through a laugh. “I think there’s something there too. But Naomi’s been adjusting to life here, and Cullen’s incredibly busy… not to mention they’re both rather… cautious. It may be some time before they get around to admitting how they feel.” Hawke chuckled.

“Regardless, I’m glad there is someone in his life who can make him laugh. Varric’s right; he’s been too serious for far too long.” He stood. “Good night Inquisitor. Try not to stay up too late worrying.”

“Thank you again for your help. We’ve uncovered the Warden’s plans because of you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for that.”

“Keep them from succeeding, and I think we’ll be able to call it even.”


	37. Dreamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly NSFW.

Naomi squinted as she looked down the length of the arrow, pulling back on the string just enough so that when she let go, the arrow flew straight and true, thudding into the dummies upper thigh with a satisfying _thunk._ A second arrow followed a heartbeat later, striking the opposite leg.

And then a third, straight through the head, from a slightly different direction.

Naomi lowered her bow, glancing to her right where Sera stood, wrinkling her nose in her direction.

“You missed.”

Naomi shook her head. “No. That’s where I meant the arrows to go.” Sera’s nose wrinkled even more.

“Why’d you do that?”

Naomi shrugged. “Well, I want to know I could hit something non-vital if I wanted.” Sera’s cackle was loud and unexpected.

“That’s daft, yeah?” she said, before taking another arrow, shooting it straight through the dummies heart. “That’s how you do it. You can’t aim for the legs if you want to kill.” Naomi sighed, but decided not to respond. Instead, she pulled two more arrows from her quiver and shot them as Sera suggested. To kill.

Having Sera as an instructor was often frustrating, as the elf’s teaching style consisted of rapid, scattered demonstrations and frequent ridicule. And her accent was so different that Naomi often found herself asking her teacher to repeat herself, usually to the blonde rogue’s displeasure. But their practice sessions appealed to Naomi’s competitive streak, so she always found herself coming back.

“Naomi?” She dropped her bow, glancing to her left where one of Leliana’s agents stood. “You’re needed in the rookery.” She nodded, strapping her bow to her back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Sera. Thanks for the help.”

“Go on.”

In the rookery, Leliana frowned slightly as she handed Naomi an already opened letter.

“I read as much as I could. What I understood is worrisome, but I need the full translation.” Naomi nodded and took the parchment, settling down at the desk to translate.

She double checked her work, making sure her translation was as close to what James had written as possible. When she was done she sat back in the chair and sighed. It was not an encouraging letter.

Leliana was grim when she finished reading, rolling up the parchment and handing it back to Naomi. “Take this to Cullen and tell him we will meet in the war room in one hour. We must begin to make preparations at once.”

Naomi nearly ran down the stairs, mind racing through the highlights of the report.

_The Wardens are in the Approach. Corypheus is controlling them. They’re summoning demons with blood magic…_

Cullen was alone in his office, bent over his desk reading reports, as usual. His brow smoothed when she came in, but he was soon frowning deeply and rubbing his temple while reading the new report. Naomi could almost follow his expressions as he read the troubling words, and wished she wasn’t the one to bring him such bad news.

“Leliana wants to meet you in the war room in one hour,” she said once he had finished. He grimaced, but nodded.

“Of course. I suppose we knew this was coming…” he said wearily.

“At least…” Naomi said slowly, “we’re finding out now, before they could attack…”

“Yes, but for Corypheus to take the Wardens and twist their purpose so… it will be devastating to the people.” Naomi could only nod, not confident she knew enough to comment further. She turned to go, but Cullen called her back.

“Naomi. It has occurred to me that the Inquisition would benefit from my captains and lieutenants learning the code you have been teaching Leliana’s people. Especially now that our reach has been expanded to Orlais, and we have permanent strongholds outside of Skyhold.” Naomi nodded.

“Of course, I would be happy to teach them.” Cullen smirked.

“I had no doubt. But I know you are busy…”

“Don’t worry, I can make time.”

“Good,” Cullen said with a nod. “You’ll have to teach them in small groups, to work around training schedules, and as they return from the field.”

“That won’t be a problem. It’s actually easier to teach when the groups are smaller anyway.”

“You can start tomorrow. I’ll send the first set to the farthest tower shortly after sunrise.”

 

\----- 

 

Naomi found herself the next morning teaching two of Cullen’s captains her code. They were different than Leliana’s people, generally more serious and focused. They learned quickly, and after a few days she had a new set of students to teach. She no longer had to worry about feeling bored, as in addition to her increased teaching responsibilities, she spent all of the her free time down in the undercroft reading. She found it fascinating to learn of the different applications of biological substances towards medicinal and other, more spectacular, uses. Adan, the alchemist, had even made an appearance, and Naomi had helped him make the potions he was working on.

And Dagna was always there, tinkering on one thing or another, muttering to herself while she experimented. It reminded Naomi of her time she had spent in grad school, sharing a research space with other, passionate people, able to bounce ideas off of a willing, intelligent ear at any time, whether they completely understood each other or not. She was quickly developing a fondness for Dagna’s company, and even though she missed her brother and friends, she found it was manageable.

For nearly two weeks the new routine served her well, until the day Naomi looked up to find her next student was Alec.

Naomi stared with wide eyes as the red haired Templar emerged from the stairs, quickly schooling her expression and looking down at the table before the man could notice her discomfort. She had not interacted with Alec in months, since the night Haven was attacked, as he was almost constantly away from Skyhold on some mission or other. She had hoped she would never have to see him again.

_This will be fine… this doesn’t have to be any different than teaching anyone else._

“I’d heard you were teaching this,” Alec said from the stairs. Naomi’s skin crawled slightly at the sound, a little surprised at how jumpy she was. But she looked up from the table and forced a smile.

“Um, yes,” she said as he walked across the room and took a seat in the chair nearest hers. He smirked, leaning back slightly.

“And how’d that happen?” he asked. Naomi frowned slightly, shuffling her papers. She already didn’t like his tone.

“I came up with the code,” she said truthfully, putting on a neutral expression. Alec chuckled.

“I guess your brother did mention you were smart…” He almost sounded surprised, and Naomi felt her nostrils flare. She’d dealt with condescending men all her life, but it didn’t make it any easier when she encountered another one. If anything, her nervousness started to wane as annoyance took its place.

“Right, well, yes. Who are we waiting for?” Alec smiled.

“No one. It’s just me.” Naomi swallowed the lump in her throat and handed him a sheet of paper. Alec took the offered sheet, glancing over it quickly before looking back to her. “You know I dreamed about you a few times while I was gone. It’s nice to actually see you in person… dreams don’t do you justice.” Naomi resisted the urge to roll her eyes and cleared her throat.

“Umm… yes, well, that’s nice. Shall we get started then?”

That night at dinner, Naomi sat alone, pushing her food around her plate, wishing that nearly all of her friends weren’t currently wandering around Orlais, leaving her no one to spend time with after her less than pleasant day. Finding Alec in her lesson had been stressful, more stressful than it really should have been.

_Why couldn’t there be at least one other person there?_

She hadn’t felt that uncomfortable around a person in months, and she hated how quickly she reverted to a stammering, awkward mess when she was. And she wasn’t sure if she had any reason to be, unable to determine if she should read anything more into his looks and glances. She had caught his eyes lowered to her breasts more than once, but he wasn’t the first man to do that. She hated it, no matter what, but it didn’t necessarily mean anything.

But she couldn’t forget how he had pinned her to the wall, or angrily approached her in the stables when she turned him away in Haven… And the way he had said _see you tomorrow_ when he left earlier that day, eyes making a sweep over her figure, still made her shudder.

_It’s just a few days, and then he’ll be gone again…_

She nearly jumped from the bench when a body settled heavily across from her at the table, but she immediately calmed when she saw it was Cullen.

“You startled me!” she said, suppressing a laugh. Cullen smirked, grabbing a plate and piling it high with food.

“My apologies. I wasn’t going to stop, but I am famished…” Naomi smiled as he began eating, reminded that she wasn’t completely alone in Skyhold. It crossed her mind to mention her concerns to Cullen, but immediately discarded the thought. This really wasn’t that much of a problem.

She poured him a glass of wine, him acknowledging the gesture with a nod, and turned to actually eating her own food.

“We received word that the Inquisitor will likely return in the next few days,” he said after a few bites. Naomi smiled.

“Great! Skyhold’s seemed so empty without Nassella and James and the others.”

“It’s certainly been quieter,” Cullen said wryly. Naomi chuckled, sure he was referring to Dorian and Bull’s absence. And Varric’s. Even having Cole gone meant fewer strange things had been happening around the fortress.

“Are you still able to play chess tomorrow?” she asked, ‘I know you’re likely busy preparing for the assault on Adamant.” Cullen nodded.

“I will try my hardest. I suspect I will at least want a break at any rate.” Naomi relaxed slightly, knowing that Cullen was around, and her… friend. Yes, she considered Cullen a friend, and believed he would as well. Probably. And with Nassella and Sera’s training… she could handle one too-friendly Templar.

 

\----- 

 

Naomi was in the Fade, wandering the halls of Skyhold, like she did every night. But this night was different. She heard, for the first time in months, the whispers of demons in her ears.

_You think you can handle this, but you’re wrong…_

_You can’t stop him, if he tries to take you. And he will try…_

_You are timid, weak. He knows this. Everyone knows this…_

But Naomi ignored them. Tried her best to ignore them, as she didn’t believe their whispered threats. They never showed themselves, and eventually she walked enough to leave them behind.

But then she began walking in circles, passing through the same hall, past the same door again, and again, and again…

The door shimmered blue, indicating the presence of a dream. When she passed the door for what seemed like the twentieth time she stopped, confused. The Fade often repeated, but not like this. Curious, she approached the glowing door, placing a hand warily along its surface.

Immediately she heard muffled voices, though they were distinct enough to make out a number of words.

“…knew you’d like this…” A man’s voice. Indistinct murmurs. A grunt. “…harder...” A woman. More grunts. A distinct groan.

Naomi blushed, moving to drop her hand, confused why she had been passing someone’s sex dream for the past hour. But then, a word that stopped her hand.

“…Naomi…”

She froze, heart thumping in her ears, not wanting to believe what she had heard. Hesitantly, she splayed her other hand across the door, pressing an ear to the wood reflected in the Fade.

“…fuck you feel good Naomi…”

A moan. “Don’t stop!”

Naomi dropped her hands and stepped back from the door and clenched her fists. She felt heat rising through her body, her stomach flipping uneasily. She turned and took a step away, but stopped, mind racing. She didn’t know what to think. She supposed it was foolish to believe no one had ever thought about her sexually before, and if she was honest with herself, hoped someone would find her attractive enough for such a thing. But to come face to face with that reality was too much. She wanted to run, to hide, forget what she had heard.

But she was also curious. It stopped her. She looked back over her shoulder. If someone was dreaming about her, she could open that door, find out who…

She wanted to know. She hated the feeling that someone was imagining these things about her without her knowledge.

But she also knew spying on dreams was wrong. She had vowed to never do it. It was a gross invasion of privacy, a breach of trust she could never take back.

She stared at the door a moment longer.

She had to know.

Two steps and she was back at the door, a hand on the handle. With a deep breath, Naomi turned the handle. It moved without a sound, the door swinging impossibly smooth on its hinges.

The light was dim, the open door throwing no light into the room. Naomi stepped inside. She could see a bed along the back wall, two figures perched on top. A woman was on her hands and knees, a man driving into her from behind. Both were naked. Naomi looked away, realizing the door to the room had closed. But she forced herself to look back, to the man’s face. She had to know.

And in the dim light she saw the red hair, the pale skin, the slightly hooked nose… She stepped back, crossing her arms across her chest in an attempt to cover as much of herself as she could. It was Alec. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised.

How could she be? He had _told_ her that day he dreamed about her… but she hadn’t realized _this_ is what he meant. So here she was, standing like an idiot as he… She didn’t want to believe what she was seeing, tried to hold on to the belief that this was _not_ what he wanted to do to her.

But the truth was right in front of her.

“Alec!” the version of herself moaned from the bed, and Naomi realized her counterpart’s hands were tied to the headboard. Alec groaned.

“I knew you’d come around. They always do…” Naomi’s mouth dropped open, anger rushing through her.

“Stop it!” she yelled, holding herself even tighter. This was degrading, humiliating… She wanted to vomit.

Alec’s head snapped up, though he continued to move within the version of herself. His face twisted into a grin.

“Two of you? Fuck…” He closed his eyes and groaned, movements turning erratic as he lost control, the other woman’s own exclamations growing louder.

“I said stop!” she yelled again, taking a step forward. Alec thrust two more times before extracting himself, throwing the other Naomi down on the bed. He stood, face split into an unsettling smile, eyes, roaming over her body.

“What? You jealous? Don’t worry, I have plenty left for you.” He took a step forward.

“Stay back,” Naomi said, backing up a step herself. But Alec advanced again.

“Oh I don’t think so. You know how long I’ve wanted to do this? Now we’re finally alone… and you came right to me.” She glanced back, angry to see the door was now missing entirely. She turned back to Alec, still getting closer, and pulled a bow and arrow from her back.

She had done it before, summoned weapons in the Fade, but this time was the easiest, the weapons appearing with barely a thought. She notched the arrow and pointed it at Alec’s bare chest, eyes narrowed.

“I said stay back.” Alec stopped. Then burst into laughter. The sound made Naomi’s skin crawl.

“Oh I like this. It’s more fun when they’re feisty.” Another step.

Naomi swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She hesitated, not sure what shooting someone in the Fade would do to the actual person. She didn’t want to hurt him, despite what he had been doing to her, but he was only a few steps away, still advancing… And this was just a dream…

She pulled back on the bowstring with one swift motion, releasing the arrow to strike Alec in the right shoulder.

“Fuck!” he howled. “Bitch!” The walls began to fall.

 

\----- 

 

Naomi sat up, sweat plastering strands of hair to the back of her neck and to her forehead. She wiped the moisture away with a sleeve, hands shaking. She curled around her knees and buried her head in her arms.

_Fuck._


	38. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags.

Naomi stood in the loft of the barn, trying to decide what to do.

There was no doubt about it; Alec wanted to sleep with her, have sex, fuck her… however it was put, he was attracted to her.

But it was only physical attraction. He had given no indication he was interested in her beyond her body, and she was incredibly uncomfortable with that realization. Not that she hadn’t realized he was attracted to her before, but seeing it in person…

She didn’t want to go to the lesson that day. Her instinct to resolve this problem was to avoid it. If she just never interacted with Alec again, eventually he would forget her. Problem solved. But she had a job to do, and the idea of talking to Cullen about discontinuing her work with the red-headed Templar, and her reasons for doing so, was even less appealing.

She had to finish the lessons. So she stood in the barn, preparing herself.

_He won’t do anything. There are too many people around. So what if he wants to have sex? I think about having sex, it doesn’t mean I act on it. It doesn’t mean he will._

She sighed, rubbing her hands across her face. It was the logical thing to think, but she still felt anxious. She wondered if she would react this way if she had been introduced to the idea of intimacy in a normal way.

Instead of a dress, she pulled on a pair of riding breeches and a leather tunic, not bothering to clean her body, though she untangled and braided her hair. She felt stronger, more agile, covered, in these clothes, unlike when she wore her usual dresses.

Alec was not smiling when he arrived at their lesson, and Naomi felt guilty for what had happened in the Fade. She momentarily wondered if he would know she had been in his dream, but immediately dismissed the thought. Solas had said it was a rare ability, even among mages, and most thought it just a story. Still, she knew it had been wrong to intrude, and to then shoot him… She should have kept walking, resisted her curiosity. Even better, she should have simply _woken up._ None of this should be happening.

But then she watched as his eyes raked over her body, not even trying to hide the action. She clenched her jaw and bit the inside of her cheek. She hated it. Hated that men would look at women and see nothing but an avenue for sex. That she couldn’t walk across Skyhold, across town, across campus, without worrying that people were looking at her, seeing nothing but her body.

_No. That’s not fair._ Not every man was like that, and no man was like that all the time. And women could be just as guilty. I _can be just as guilty._

But she still disliked how normal it was, both here and on Earth.

“Good afternoon,” she said as Alec approached. He sat, eyes dropping once more to her chest.

“I like your dresses better,” he said. Naomi frowned, though her face burned red, glad she had decided to wear the more conservative tunic.

She handed him a sheet of paper, ignoring his comment. “Decode this.” To her relief he took the paper to do just that, and eventually, she started to relax.

_I can get through this._

But halfway through the lesson, Alec spoke.

“I think we should shorten this lesson… find something more interesting to do…” Naomi looked up from the translation she had been reading, finding his eyes burning into hers.

“What?” she asked, flustered and distracted, uneasy with his gaze. “We need to finish the lesson…”

“Come on, there’s plenty of time for that later...” He reached for her hand and Naomi tried to back her chair up, cursing herself for sitting against the wall. Her stomach flipped and any guilt she still had dissipated. This man would not take a hint.

“No.” Alec scowled and stood, leaning far too close for her comfort.

“You don’t mean that…” Naomi bristled, standing herself.

“Yes. I do.” She glanced at the table and stooped to pick up her things. “We’re done here. You can finish learning from someone else…” She was done. She would leave and this ordeal would finally be over.

“What’s your fucking problem?” Alec asked angrily. Naomi looked at him, incredulous.

“What’s _my_ problem? You’re the one who doesn’t seem to get that I don’t want… whatever it is you want!” she said, turning toward the stairs. Alec grabbed her shoulder.

“Oh come on. I see the way you blush around me. You’re just shy…” Naomi pulled herself free.

“Don’t touch me! And… and blushing doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you!” Alec crossed his arms, nostrils flaring.

“So you’ll fuck a stableboy, but you’re too good for a Templar?” Naomi growled and turned to go, not bothering to give the question an answer, stung by his reference to Jaron. “It’s not like I haven’t seen everything already,” he sneered. Naomi took a couple of steps, then stopped cold, his words catching up to her.

She remembered that Alec had been the one who guarded her that very first night, after she found herself in Thedas. She also remembered she had been completely naked under her blanket, left alone in the tent…

She turned, gaping at the Templar. He was smirking again, and she knew. Knew he had, at the very least, looked at her, and the possibility that he had done more…

_Not again…_

Again. It had happened again. Someone had used her for their own pleasure, took away her choices, seen her as nothing more than an object to be used. The first time this had happened she had done nothing. But now…

She wasn’t a child anymore.

And she was furious.

“You fucking bastard!” she yelled in English, advancing on the man, unease replaced with anger, papers forgotten on the floor. The distance between them covered, she did the only thing her mind was capable of thinking of at that moment.

She punched him.

Nassella had taught her to throw a punch, and Sera had tried to perfect her technique, but she hadn’t actually punched a _person_ before. She realized immediately she should have hit him harder.

She also considered she shouldn’t have hit him at all.

At least she hit his face, but didn’t exactly have a plan beyond that. He recovered almost instantly, pushing her against the wall, a hand over her mouth, pressing her head to the wall. Naomi blinked, blood pounding with adrenaline, realizing a knife was at her throat. Alec chuckled.

“Is that all you got?” Naomi struggled, trying to push him away, pull his hand away so she could yell… But even though she was stronger than she had ever been in her life, he was far stronger, and she hated to think she was still so helpless. She could feel him, already hard, pressed against her lower stomach, and started to panic, not sure what he was planning on doing. Alec moaned, grinding against her.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “We could have had so much fun…” He smiled. “You know, attacking me without cause could get you thrown in jail. I’m friends with most of the guards. I could arrange a private visit… And I know you won’t even say a thing...” Naomi glared at him, but felt a little bit of hope. There was no way that would happen.

But she didn’t want to think about why he thought he could get away with threatening her like this.

She yanked on his hair with one of her hands, feeling the hand over her mouth momentarily loosen.

“Hel—!” she started to yell, only to have the knife press more firmly against her neck, the hand clamp back over her mouth.

“Shut up,” Alec hissed. Then, “What the fuck…?” The blade moved across her throat, making her gag. “What kind of magic is this?” Naomi pushed against him as hard as she could. He hardly seemed to notice. “You’re a fucking mage,” Alec breathed, eyes narrowed. Then he gasped, glaring at her with steel eyes. “You were there… you fucking tried to kill me last night!” Naomi paused at his realization, truly panicking, tears beginning to prickle behind her eyes. She needed to get away. Now.

With a free hand she hit him again, this time without hesitation, slamming her fist into the side of his nose.

Alec dropped her, backing up a step to pinch his nose. “Shit!” he exclaimed, and Naomi could see, to her satisfaction, blood flowing from his nostrils, and moved toward the stairs.

But suddenly she was hit with a wave of intense nausea, the air suddenly too thick to breath. She dropped to her hands and knees, no longer able to support her weight, and felt her head spinning as vertigo and nausea combined, leaving her a shaking mess on the floor. Faintly, she could hear Alec chuckling, then felt herself hauled up by her tunic. Something tickled her left cheek, then a sharp pain erupted on the skin. Something warm and metallic seeped into her mouth.

“Not so tough now?” Alec asked, voice strangely distant, though he was right in front of her. But Naomi had trouble focusing on his face. “What? Never been hit with a purge before?”

_Shit,_ Naomi thought groggily. _Templar… didn’t know that would work…_

“…I’ll make sure they make you Tranquil. I’ll be able to fuck you all I want and you won’t even care. Just like Kirkwall…”

Naomi knew that would never happen. She wasn’t a mage, and Nassella didn’t run things like that. But at that moment, she was too disoriented and ill to argue, and her vision started to spot black as she struggled to get enough air…

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James slipped from the saddle, looking around Skyhold with a grin. He thought returning from Crestwood had been a relief, but the Western Approach had been hot and sandy, and James was incredibly grateful he would have some time to relax after the weeks on the road. He watched as Solas helped Nassella dismount from her hart, admiring the flush of color her skin had obtained in the Approach. But her expression was grim.

In fact, everyone who had gone was grim. The news about the Wardens was devastating, and James was still struggling to grasp the concept that soon they would be back in the Approach, attacking Adamant Fortress.

It would be a real battle, like Haven, but he hoped that this time would be different. The Inquisition would be prepared. They would do the attacking. He trusted they would be victorious.

“Inquisitor. How was your return journey?” Commander Cullen asked Nassella as he approached the travel-worn group. The Inquisitor grimaced.

“It was fine… until we ran into a bear when we made camp last night. It injured Varric. The hide’s over there.” James glanced toward the brown furry bundle, remembering the fight with the beast. It had come out of nowhere, and Varric was still limping, despite Vivienne’s attempts at healing his leg. They were lucky Bull and been nearby. Varric’s pony had been less lucky.

“I’m going to clean up then meet you, Leliana, and Josephine in the war room… in an hour?” Cullen nodded, helping to remove one of the saddlebags from the purple hart.

“As you say Inquisitor.” James turned to remove the burdens from his own mount. After a few moments, the Commander approached.

“And how was the journey for you James?”

“Long. I’m glad to be back. I wish we didn’t have to return, for many reasons.” Cullen sighed.

“Indeed. But we need to deal with this threat as soon as we are able.”

“Again. It happened again. He took what wasn’t his to have. Left her nothing. All they see is a shell to be used.” James glanced over at Cole, wondering who he could possibly be talking about now. After the fourth or fifth time he had blurted out the private thoughts of the members of their party on the road, Nassella had taken him aside for a quiet conversation about privacy. The outbursts had stopped after that… for the most part. James was just thankful his own thoughts had never been transmitted in mixed company.

“ _No. Not again. I can fight!_ She’s angry.But he’s stronger. And angrier.” Cullen’s turned sharply toward the blonde man.

“Who’s fighting?” he asked, urgent. Cole blinked, pointing toward the far side of the stronghold.

“She was trying to teach him, but he didn’t want that. He wants _her.”_

James shook his head, frustrated. Cole frowned. “No, that’s not right,” he said to himself. Then he looked up with watery eyes. “Naomi. She’s louder when she hurts.”

James turned on the Commander. “Where is she?!” Cullen was already moving.

“Teaching in the far tower…” It was all the information James needed. He took off at a sprint, outpacing the Commander, taking the stairs to the upper courtyard two at a time. He silently thanked Bull for making him run the walls nearly every day as he neared the steps to the wall. He didn’t know what he was going to find, but someone was trying to hurt his sister, and he had no interest in being out of breath when he got there.

The side of the wall containing the tower was deserted, the door to the tower open. James ran through, confused to find the lower level empty. But then he heard the shuffle of feet from the floor above. The murmur of a voice.

Ran up the stairs.

And saw Alec standing across the room, blood flowing down his face from his nose, holding Naomi by the front of her tunic, her head rolling slowly in a circle, a bright slash of red marring her face. A bloodied knife in his hands.

_Fucking bastard…_

He crossed the room in two steps, fist slamming into the Templars jaw with a satisfying crack. He saw Naomi drop from the corner of his eye, but he only had eyes for the man in front of him. He placed another shot on his face, this time near the eye, the man stumbling back slightly. But Alec growled, swinging toward him with the knife. James grabbed the blade with a hand, not even wincing at the sharp pain. He lunged toward the other man, driving him toward the wall, hitting his face one, two, three more times…

“Enough!” Cullen yelled, and James felt himself pulled back, turning to see a soldier. _Where’d they come from…?_

“But-!”

“Enough,” Cullen repeated, from across the room James realized. His fist and palm were stinging, but he looked with satisfaction at Alec’s split lip, already swelling eye, broken nose… The soldier passed James, reaching for Alec’s arms, pulling the knife from his hands.

“What the fuck?!” Alec yelled, wiping the blood from his face. “She fucking attacked _me!_ ”

“Yeah right!” James said, turning to look for his sister. She was lying on the floor, eyes fluttering between opened and closed, Cullen kneeling over her, faced pinched in worry. Immediately, James dropped to her side, noting the cut on her face, the way she was hardly breathing, the paleness of her skin…

“What did you do to her?!” he yelled, standing and angrily approaching the Templar, now held by two soldiers. Alec spit blood in his direction.

“She’s a fucking mage! I purged her fucking magic when she attacked me!” James scowled.

“She’s not a mage you idiot!” He turned back to Naomi. Cullen was inspecting her face, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. A purge should not have affected her in this way…”

“The light is gone... The Fade. She can’t feel it anymore.” James jumped slightly, Cole appearing at his side.

“What—?”

“Lyrium!” Cullen said suddenly, standing quickly, “She needs lyrium…!”

_Of course._

“I’ll go,” James said rushing toward the stairs. But he hadn’t gone two steps along the wall outside before Solas and Nassella appeared from the courtyard stairs.

“What’s going on?” Nassella asked, breathless. “Cole said…”

“I need lyrium,” James interrupted, looking to Solas urgently, thankful when the mage handed him a blue vial from a pouch on his belt without question. Vial in hand, he turned and ran back to the second level of the tower, back to his sister’s side. He lifted her head, bringing the solution usually reserved for mages to her mouth, pouring the blue liquid between her lips. A second passed, then her eyes flew open and she sat up, breaths deep and ragged.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking asshole!” she yelled in English, struggling to rise to her feet. James held her down, noting Cullen was doing the same on her other side. James frowned, not expecting the words his sister was yelling, even considering what Alec could have been trying to do. For that matter, he had never seen her this angry, the hate that burned in her eyes. And he had not realized how strong she had gotten.

“Let me go!” she yelled again, still in English, struggling to free herself from their grasp. She was still breathing heavily, and James could see tears starting to run down her cheeks.

“Naomi” Cullen said gently, though firmly. He brought a hand to her uninjured cheek, turning her head in his direction. “Look at me. You’re safe. You’re just reacting to the lyrium.” James watched as her eyes seemed to focus, finally recognizing the Commander at her side. She stopped struggling and James released his grip. Cullen did not, a hand on her shoulder, the other still holding her face. They stared at each other a moment, then Naomi carefully raised a hand, pulling Cullen’s away from her.

“Please let me go,” she whispered. Cullen hesitated, but did, and she curled herself into a ball. The Commander didn’t look away. James suddenly felt useless.

“Take this man to his quarters. He is not to leave until we get to the bottom of this,” Nassella said, having followed James into the tower. Solas was by her side.

“Inquisitor,” Alec spat. “She tried to kill me, in a dream last night. I was just…”

“Not now,” Nassella said, voice cold. “You will get your chance to have your say. Later.” She nodded to the soldiers. “Go.”

As the still protesting Templar was led down the stairs, James shook his head and turned back to his sister. He couldn’t believe what was happening. No. That was wrong. He felt sick when he realized he should have seen something like this coming, the way Alec had talked about women back in Haven. The way he had talked about Naomi, knowing she would never reciprocate such feelings.

“Are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand back on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her leather tunic, wincing when she brushed the cut on her face. She gingerly touched the wound, already starting to scab over, frowning at the blood that stained her fingertips.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, moving away from him. She tried to stand, but only got halfway up before she stopped, sitting back down clutching her head.

“Fuck…” she muttered. James grabbed her arm, holding it firm until she looked at him.

“You’re not fine,” he said. She glared at him.

“What happened?” Cullen asked. Naomi winced, but said nothing. Nassella sighed, moving closer from across the room.

“Naomi, you have to talk. You’re injured when you shouldn’t be, a Templar is accusing you of trying to kill him… and I can’t imagine you were the one who beat him up. What in the void happened?” Naomi finally looked up, pleading, at Nassella.

“I… I hit him first, alright! I’m sorry! This shouldn’t be happening!”


	39. Opening Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like a rewrote this way too many times...

Nassella was stunned. By the time she got to the room, all she had seen was Alec restrained by soldiers, face swollen from punches, and Naomi nearly unconscious on the floor. She had assumed the Templar was to blame. Nothing she knew about Naomi suggested she would do something like attack a Templar. Or anyone for that matter. She had told her as much.

But nothing suggested she would lie either.

“Well, what did he do?” James asked. _Of course. Something must have provoked her. Still, I cannot have members of my Inquisition fighting like this within Skyhold…_

Still, while Naomi should not have turned to violence in this instance, the behavior of the man had been unforgivable, to retaliate by attacking an unarmed person with a knife. Nassella could not tolerate such actions in her ranks, and made a mental note to have Cullen remove the man from his position immediately, no matter what had happened. But one look at Cullen’s dark expression told her he had already decided to do just that. And looking at his expression, she realized it was a wonder she hadn’t found him pummeling the man when she arrived.

_It’s just as well, I can’t have my Commander beating up those under his command._

“Umm… well…,” Naomi stammered. She made another attempt at standing, and Nassella watched as Cullen offered a hand. But Naomi didn’t take it, instead leaning on her brother. Cullen’s hand dropped, and Nassella could almost see his disappointment.

She recalled the way he had calmed her, after James gave her the lyrium, when he held her face and never looked away. She no longer had any doubt of how he felt about her.

“He… umm…,” Nassella frowned, watching as Naomi fidgeted and stared at the ground. She was obviously still shaken, and Nassella considered changing tactics. But then, Naomi took a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at everyone in the room with cold determination in her eyes.

“No. This is not my fault. He has been trying to get me to sleep with him for months, the first time just a few weeks after I got here. And when I say no, he gets angry. He tried again today, and when I was leaving he told me he looked! The first night I was here… I was naked and he looked while I was asleep! And I hit him, and I know it would have been better to leave, but I am sick and tired of being afraid of him! And then he held me against the wall with a knife, threatened to rape me if I went to jail, and when I got away he hit me with a purge…”

Nassella felt her stomach flip. It was not what she had expected… but everything now made sense, and she felt herself instantly angry. She couldn’t blame Naomi for striking the man. He had taken advantage of her when she was at her lowest, most vulnerable point in her life. It was clear to her the Templar had thought he could get away with this because when they first met, Naomi was a frightened, injured, naked, foreign woman would could barely speak the language and had no known connections or skills. He had apparently failed to update his initial impression.

Naomi had moved herself so she was as far away from Cullen and James as she could be without being backed against the wall. Nassella could see the way James and Cullen were barely controlling their anger, and realized the two men were still far too close to Naomi. She moved quickly.

Nassella crossed the room, stepping between Cullen and Naomi. “Cullen, James, would you go downstairs with Solas and Cole?” Cullen’s eyes flashed with anger.

“Inquisitor, it was my man who did this…” he growled. Nassella held up a hand, grateful that Cullen was disciplined enough to stop talking immediately. The last thing Naomi needed at the moment was a large, angry man around… even if the last thing that man would ever do was hurt her. “Please Cullen. Let me talk to her,” she said quietly. Cullen hesitated, looked back at Naomi, and nodded, taking a step back, then another, until he turned to follow Solas and Cole down the stairs. She looked to James, who had not moved, and raised an eyebrow. He scowled, but followed the others after a last, concerned glance at his sister. Nassella turned to Naomi.

“Alright, it’s just us now. I need you to tell me everything he said and did, exactly, starting in Haven.”

And she did. Everything. Including admitting that Alec claiming she attacked him in a dream was not entirely untrue, as she apparently had a unique ability to roam the Fade in dreams as a non-mage. She was incredibly remorseful of those actions, but other than that Naomi never wavered from her anger, and didn’t break into tears once.

“Is this why you wanted to learn to fight, to learn to defend yourself?” Naomi nodded, then grimaced.

“Not that it did any good…”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you broke his nose, so I think you learned something. And shooting him with an arrow isn’t easy…” Naomi laughed then, a short, brittle thing with none of her usual warmth, making it sound out of place. It hurt, to know she had been afraid this entire time. That she had said nothing.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” she asked. “If you were afraid...” Naomi glared at the wall, arms still crossed. But she eventually sighed, and when she looked back the edge was gone from her gaze.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Women get hit on all the time. I never _actually_ thought he would do anything. I… overreact sometimes, so I thought I could handle it. And I haven’t seen him in months…” Nassella took her hand.

“Naomi, you don’t have to keep these things to yourself. You’re not alone here. There is a tower filled with people who would not hesitate to help you. Even if you think those fears are foolish, we would rather hear about them than find you were right to be afraid.” Naomi’s lip finally began to tremble, but she bit her lip to stop it.

“I… I know that,” she said quietly. “I’m just… not used to… I usually deal with these things on my own.” They stood in silence. Nassella knew she had to go downstairs, let the others know the details of what had happened. Deal with Alec. She sighed. She had hoped to have a few days of relaxation after her trip, but this could not wait. She could not tolerate these sorts of threats within the Inquisition. No woman, or man for that matter, should fear for their safety in Skyhold. And she realized, if Alec was as depraved as she suspected, there were likely others in Skyhold with similar stories to Naomi. There were certainly mages from Kirkwall who had been hurt by the man. The woman across from her had just been the first to fight back.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen was furious.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted to hit another person so badly. If he had known what he knew now when he first entered the tower, nothing would have stopped him from joining James in hitting the man.

But he had not known, and instead focused his attention on Naomi, and he was glad he had.

It had terrified him, her shallow breaths and pale skin, with no indication of what caused her condition. He had momentarily considered the knife that cut her had been poisoned, until Alec mentioned the purge. It explained why she had been cut in the first place.

He had looked at her face, at the blood still seeping from the cut that crossed her cheek to her chin, and never wanted to leave her alone again.

It stung, when she pulled away, when she relied on her brother to stand. _He_ wanted to be the one she turned to for support, to hold her. But he’d seen it before, the way she retreated into herself when she hurt. How often had she visited the roof of this very tower when she was homesick, or hit with a spell of depression over her brother’s death? He could offer her no comfort if she didn’t want to take it. And after what Alec had done… she wouldn’t want his comfort anyway.

But for a moment, before she pulled away, he hadn’t felt useless. He had looked at her, seen the panic and anger in her beautiful eyes, said _you’re safe,_ and watched as she came back to herself. He wanted to believe perhaps he had something to do with it.

Or perhaps it was just her body adjusting to the rush of lyrium. He shuddered, pushing the thought of the blue liquid away.

The mood was somber in the downstairs room. James had kicked a chair and was now sitting against the wall on the floor, head buried in his hands. Solas was frowning across the room, periodically shaking his head and glancing toward the ceiling. Cole was pacing the floor and mumbling. But the spirit boy didn’t seem to be recalling Naomi’s thoughts.

“Should have seen, should have known. He talked about her all the time…”

“How could this happen? By one of my men? She is supposed to be safe here…”

“She told me. She said she was afraid. I should have pushed…”

“That’s enough Cole,” Solas said gently. Cullen glared at the elf.

“What? That was about you, wasn’t it? What did you know?!” he demanded. If anyone had any idea this could happen…

Solas stood straight, hands behind his back. “Noami had expressed… concerns about this man’s intentions before.”

“And you said nothing?!” he snarled, taking a step toward the bald elf. Solas didn’t flinch.

“What would you have me do Commander? She assured me it was an irrational fear, that nothing had happened, and she did not believe anything _would_ happen. Her fears were not enough to accuse a man of an assault that had yet to happen.”

“We could have investigated the matter,” Cullen growled.

“In hindsight, yes, I should have said something, and I regret that I did not. But that is not what Naomi wanted. I respected that choice.” Cullen scowled, turning away from the man, unable to look at him further.

And found himself looking at Cole. “You,” he accused, advancing on the spirit. “You must have heard her thoughts, known she was afraid. Why didn’t you say something!?” Cole stopped pacing, his watery gaze intermittently meeting his own.

“Yes, I knew… she said it would hurt more to tell.”

And for the first time, he was frustrated with Naomi. _Why would she keep this to herself? If she had concerns, why didn’t she say something? Did she not trust I would help…?_

That thought stopped him. They had grown close over the last few months, but what right did he have to think she would turn to him with a matter like this. But why would she not talk to James or Nassella, instead turning to Solas? Only to refuse intervention?

“Leave him alone,” James mumbled from the floor. He looked up, tears in his eyes. “I knew how Alec felt about her… what he wanted. Naomi’s never had a boyfriend… I knew she would say no, and Alec has a temper…” He dropped his head again, shoulders hunched. Cullen had never seen the man so low.

Suddenly the door to the tower slammed open and Dorian swept in with a gush of wind, followed by Bull and Cassandra, the Qunari ducking into the room to accommodate his horns.

“What’s going on?” the mage demanded, turning to each in the room in turn. “We heard there was an altercation. A Templar is claiming Naomi tried to kill him, and I refuse to believe it!” Cullen growled. This man wasn’t making it any better for himself continuing these lies.

“And you shouldn’t! He is the one who assaulted her, used a purge that nearly knocked her out. The worst she did was break his nose.”

“Assaulted…?”

“I think you know what he means Dorian,” Bull grumbled, standing to his full height, crossing his massive arms. Dorian visibly paled.

“Oh.”

“Why does he say she tried to kill him? A broken nose is far from fatal, and he would have certainly deserved it,” Cassandra scowled.

“He said he had a dream where she attacked him. He believes her to be a mage, and seems to think the dream was real. The notion is preposterous of course,” Solas answered.

“Solas, why did that purge affect her so much? Cassandra tested me, but nothing happened,” James said. “I figured Naomi wouldn’t be affected either.”

The elf straightened. “It is hard to say… but it seems the differences in your abilities are greater than just their manifestation. I believe another difference lies in where you draw energy. James, you draw energy from your own body to heal. It is why your abilities diminish as you grow tired. Naomi, however, appears to rely on a connection to the Fade. And not just to keep her skin from being injured. I suspect an extended separation from the Fade’s magic, such as that brought on by a purge, could eventually be fatal if left unchecked. It was good thinking to give her lyrium and restore her mana.” Cullen caught his breath. He had to remind himself he had touched her, looked into her eyes to remember Naomi was not still struggling to breath. He had not realized, had they arrived a few moments later, that perhaps he and James would have been too late.

Footsteps descended the stairs, and Cullen looked up to find Nassella eyeing the people who had gathered, lips pursed. She stood in the center of the room and crossed her arms.

“You likely all already have a general idea of what happened. Naomi wants some time alone, and I expect all of you to be gone when she leaves. And please, for the love of the gods and the Maker, _do not_ pester her with questions when you see her next.” She looked pointedly at Dorian, who crossed his arms, but nodded. Then she quietly told them what had exactly happened. Cullen had not thought it possible to get any angrier.

“Cullen, you brought Ser Alec with you from Kirkwall, right?” Cullen could only nod, entire body going numb as the full significance of that simple question hit.

It was his fault.

_He_ had put Alec and Naomi together for these lessons. _He_ had failed to know the unsavory qualities of his lieutenant. _He_ had placed the man in charge of guarding her that very first night. _He_ had brought the man from Kirkwall. _He_ had failed to discover this man likely contributed to the atrocities at Kirkwall’s Circle when he was placed in charge after it fell…

He had failed her before he even knew her.

And he wanted her to turn to him for help, for support? He was the last person she should want at that moment. He had joined the Inquisition to bring peace to the world. But instead, he had helped spread some of the chaos from Kirkwall further.

“I will need to speak with this man, hear his side of things. But I do not doubt Naomi. And while I’m sure she would appreciate to know you are all here, she wants space. Cole, would you walk her to my room when she is ready? Everyone else, it’s time to leave.” Dorian looked like he was going to say something, but Bull placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the door, pushing him outside. Cassandra looked like she wanted to hit something, and Cullen suspected she would leave and do just that. Solas followed close behind, head bowed. That left him and James.

“So, which one of you beat him up?” Nassella asked, a single eyebrow raised as she looked between the two men.

“I did,” James said unapologetically. He looked up the stairs. “I wish I’d hit him harder.” Cullen agreed wholeheartedly.

When the other man was gone, Nassella turned to him.

“Inquisitor,” he began. “This is my fault, I brought him here…” She raised a hand to cut him off.

“Cullen, if blame lands with any single person, it is Ser Alec. That is not to say mistakes weren’t made…” She shook her head with a sigh. “But we will move forward and do better.” He wanted to protest, but stopped himself. She was right. Alec was ultimately to blame. But that realization did not lesson his own guilt.

Still, as he followed the Inquisitor from the tower to confront Alec, he considered he would find a reason to punch the man yet.


	40. The Truth

Nassella and Cullen stood outside of Alec’s room, a small chamber in the portion of Skyhold set aside for the captains and lieutenants of the Inquisition’s army. Two soldiers guarded the wooden door, and every few seconds Nassella heard a thump or muffled curses come from the room. They paused outside of the door.

“Has he given you any trouble?” she asked the soldiers. One of the men winced, and Nassella saw he had a split lip.

“He almost broke free once, punched me in the face, but Carsten here got him under control before he could do more damage.” Nassella sighed, her opinion of the man dropping down another rung.

“Has he said anything?” Carsten, a younger soldier with fair hair, frowned.

“He keeps saying that he was defending himself, that she tried to attack him with magic.” He shook his head, confused. “But she’s not a mage, right? She works in the stables… she showed me how to take care of horses one day.” He blushed. “She seemed really nice…” Nassella smiled reassuringly at the young man, who she realized was likely not even out of his teenage years.

“No, she’s not a mage. He’s confused.” _Though finding out someone’s skin will not cut certainly seems like magic… and I suppose it is, in a way._ But that did not excuse the use of his purge. The mages in the Inquisition were full allies. The Templars were expected to respect that, and only use their abilities if they truly feared for their safety, or the safety of others, at the hands of a mage. Wanton use of their abilities was not tolerated, and there had yet to be any problems.

Nassella turned to Cullen. “What do you know of the man?” Cullen crossed his arms, frowning at the door.

“Not much. He arrived in Kirkwall only a few months before Meredith was removed from power. He was stationed in a different part of the Gallows, and I didn’t actually meet him until after I was put in charge.” He grimaced, rubbing his temples with a hand. “After I realized the extent to which some of the Templars in the Gallows were abusing their powers, I tried to root out all of the bad seeds. It was… difficult, to say the least. Many of the mages who had been abused refused to talk, and the Templars were just as tight lipped.” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I thought I had found them all… but I was wrong.” His shoulders slumped, and Nassella could imagine how guilty he likely felt. She placed a hand on his arm, waiting until he looked at her before speaking.

“Cullen, I know you didn’t mean for this to happen… and Naomi won’t blame you either. She’s tough… she’ll find a way past this, I know it.” Cullen closed his eyes, then nodded after a moment.

“I know she will,” he said quietly. Nassella saw movement down the hall, and found Leliana approaching.

“Inquisitor, I heard of an attack, but I have received contrasting reports. What happened?” After filling Leliana in on the details, the spymaster shook her head. “I should have considered how someone might react to Naomi’s abilities… James’ as well.”

“I know. We all got so used to the idea… and seeing James at work is no longer surprising at all. But at one point, it was quite extraordinary,” Nassella said. “Leliana, I need your agents to poke around, discover if this man has assaulted any other women in Skyhold. He has been away for months, but we must find if there are any other victims. And we need to investigate his time in Kirkwall… and before that if possible. This seems to be a pattern for him, and learning more of his past will make prosecuting him here easier.”

“He was the youngest son of some noble in the Free Marches,” Cullen added with a growl. “I can’t remember which, but I’m sure Josephine will want to know.” Leliana nodded in understanding before sweeping away. Nassella turned to the door.

“Well, let’s hear what he has to say,” she said grimly, not very hopeful that the man would tell the truth. But that would just make things worse for him in the end. She hoped she could keep calm enough to confront him. She was finding it difficult, considering the things he had said and threatened to do to her friend.

The man had removed his armor and was pacing the floor when they entered, and turned to them with a scowl. “Inquisitor,” he spat, “you cannot keep me here like this! I have every right to defend myself when a mage…” Nassella raised a hand to cut him off, but the man kept talking. “…bitch attacks me with no cause…”

“Enough!” Cullen yelled, advancing on the man and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Enough of your lies…”

“Cullen,” Nassella warned. Cullen glared a moment longer, but dropped his hands. She considered for a moment that Cullen was too emotionally invested, too attached to this to be involved. But Alec was under his command, and he needed to be here. She turned to Alec, giving the glaring man a hard stare.

“You will only speak when asked a question. Do you understand?” The man stood to his full height and crossed his arms. He didn’t acknowledge what she said, but he stayed silent.

“First, Naomi is not a mage, as you should have been able to realize easily as a Templar.” Alec opened his mouth to speak, but Cullen growled and he closed it. “She did not attack you with magic, and using a purge was completely unnecessary.”

“She attacked me in a dream! Tried to kill me with an arrow!” Nassealla kept her expression neutral, but sighed inwardly. This was the tricky part, as he was not completely wrong. However, she knew Naomi had not actually tried to kill him, so telling half-truths would have to suffice.

“Well, if that were the case, don’t you think she would have used magic? Again, she is not a mage, and besides, it would be impossible for her to invade your dreams if she was. Your reaction was entirely inappropriate.” She paused, giving the man a hard, level look. “I am even more disturbed by your use of force. Naomi was unarmed, and you are clearly physically stronger. To draw a knife, threaten her... and then injure her when she was incapacitated…” she paused, taking a deep breath to steady her voice. “I cannot accept this behavior, and you are removed from your position, effective immediately.”

“But…” She raised her hand again, and for once the man quieted.

“Naomi claims you have been harassing her for months, pressuring her to have sex, and physically threatening her when she refuses.” Alec snorted.

“I won’t deny that I wouldn’t mind a chance to bed her… shit, half the men in Skyhold would probably agree,” he said with a smirk, glancing toward Cullen. Nassella suspected the only thing that kept Cullen from jumping the man was her presence. She had to clench her fists as well, to keep herself from slapping him. She rarely met men who talked about women in such ways.

“There is far more to Naomi than her appearance,” Cullen growled through gritted teeth. Alec snorted.

“If you say so. But I don’t see why you’re bringing this up. I haven’t touched her, and you can’t blame me for appreciating a beautiful woman, or even propositioning her.”

Nassella crossed her arms, shooting Cullen a warning glance. “No, I cannot.” She looked the man up and down. “I can, however, punish you for threatening to rape her.” Alec took a step forward but stopped when Cullen shifted slightly.

“I never touched her…!”

“So you deny that you suggested you would force her if she was jailed?” Alec snarled.

“Of course I do!” Nassella raised an eyebrow, taking a deep breath to steady her breath.

“And claiming you could ‘fuck her whenever you wanted if she was made Tranquil.’ Do you deny that as well?” Alec visibly paled, and she felt a cold satisfaction when she realized he had not thought Naomi would mention these particular details. He had misjudged her entirely.

“Yes… yes of course,” he said, the hesitation in his voice telling her more than the truth ever would. She took a step forward, standing as tall as she could. Compared to the Templar it wasn’t much.

“And do you deny you took advantage of Tranquil mages while assigned to Kirkwall’s Circle?” The man turned away, pushing over a table before turning back toward her.

“Is that what that bitch said? You can’t honestly believe…” He was advancing with each word, and she saw Cullen move to restrain him, but she was faster. Before Alec could blink she had drawn a knife from her belt and had it pressed against the soft skin of his throat. Alec stopped, glaring at her with more hate than she had ever seen in her life. She felt the slightest adjustment in his stance, indicating he was going to lunge, and flicked the knife, drawing a small amount of blood. She smirked when he winced and stilled.

“I would trust her word over yours any day.” She looked the man up and down, drawing away with a sneer. “But you are correct. We only have her word…” Alec sighed. “…for now.” His eyes widened. “Unfortunately for you, we have the best spy network in Thedas. We will discover your past actions, and when we do, you will be dealt with accordingly.” She turned away.

“Fucking knife-ear…” But whatever else he was going to say was cut off by the sound of a fist impacting flesh, then a thump.

“She is your Inquisitor,” Cullen growled, “and you will address her as such.” Nassella turned back, pleased to find Alec on the floor, rubbing a hand across his jaw, the combined impacts from Naomi, James, and Cullen leaving his face a bruised, swollen mess.

“I think we’ve wasted enough breath on this man Commander,” she said before opening the door and entering the hallway. Cullen joined her a few seconds later. Once the door was secure she leaned against the wall and sighed.

“I apologize Inquisitor, but I could hold back no longer,” Cullen said. She smiled wearily.

“It’s alright, I had almost forgotten what insults from humans sound like.” Cullen looked appalled.

“If I had known any of this…”

“Cullen,” she interrupted gently. “That was meant to be a joke.” _Perhaps not the best time to tell, however._ “And please, you cannot blame yourself for everything that has happened today.” She turned to the guards. “He is not to leave this room.” The men saluted. She turned back to Cullen.

“I am exhausted and will deal with this more fully tomorrow. I trust you can handle the details here?”

“Of course Inquisitor,” Cullen said, rubbing his temples and frowning.

“Are you feeling alright? I could have someone else handle this…” Cullen shook his head.

“No, I will see this set right,” he said fervently. “And it is just a headache,” he added, smoothing his brow slightly. She wanted to insist he take a break, but knew he never would.

_Naomi has no idea what she could have in Cullen. But how long before she can move forward?_

The sun had set by the time she reached her tower, after stopping by Josephine’s office to fill the ambassador more fully in on the situation. Hearing that Alec was noble had originally worried Nassella, but Josephine insisted that his family was sufficiently unimportant that any punishment she bestowed on the man could be mitigated. She made her way across the dark room with a candle, taking a moment to study the woman sleeping in her bed.

Naomi’s wound had been cleaned, a bandage now covering her cheek. Alec’s cut had been shallow, but Naomi would be left with a scar, no matter what healing was applied. That was almost the worst of Alec’s transgressions. The hateful, completely over-the-line act of marring her face, injuring her so personally while she was helpless. She would bear the mark of this altercation forever.

But other than the bandage, there was no indication that anything had happened. She was sleeping peacefully, curled into a ball, blankets tucked under her chin, her warm brown hair let down and brushed, glinting with hints of red and gold in the candlelight. Nassella decided she would find Naomi her own room the next day, considering that giving the woman a place of her own might help her sense of security.

Nassella sighed, realizing she had not gotten a chance to clean herself and was still dressed in her traveling clothes. She went to the water closet, resigning herself to simply washing her body quickly with a cloth, donning a clean tunic for sleeping. She normally slept naked, but decided against it for Naomi’s sake.

When she returned to the bed, she found Cole perched on the end, staring at the lump that was Naomi.

“Thank you for bringing her here Cole. How is she?”

“She told me she wanted to be alone. I could help her, keep the demons away. But she won’t let me help,” he said, clearly agitated. Nassella crawled into her side of the bed, looking sadly at her stubborn friend.

“I know Cole. But sometimes people want to help themselves.”

“But you wish she would have asked. You would have helped.” Nassella sighed. Cole was right. She was hurt that Naomi had not talked to her.

“Yes. But sometimes things happen to people that are hard to talk about, even to friends. What Alec did is one of them.” Cole frowned.

“I don’t understand. What he wanted... she wants it too. But when she thinks about Alec, she is angry and scared.” Nassella suppressed a groan. She was far too tired to get into a conversation like this with Cole. How did one explain the intricacies of sex and desire to a spirit?

“Cole, most people want sex… and it can be a very good thing, but only when everyone involved wants it. If someone doesn’t want it, it can be used to hurt. That happened with Naomi.”

“Then why does it hurt when she thinks about sex with Cullen? She wants that very much.”

“Cole, those are private thoughts,” she said wearily. Still, it was a good question. “But it’s probably because Naomi doesn’t realize Cullen feels the same way. She may be afraid he will reject her if he knew.” Cole frowned, rocking slightly on his feet.

“He wouldn’t” Nassella smirked.

“I know.”

“He is very angry…”

“He cares about her a lot.” _And I’ll find a time to tell Naomi that… after she has a chance to deal with this._

“Yes,” Cole whispered. He studied Naomi. “What Alec did, it hurt because it opened an old wound. She thought it was closed… but it was never really gone. Cullen was helping it close again, but now she’s afraid it will never be healed.” Nassella stared at Naomi. If a man had hurt her before… it would explain much.

“That’s also private,” she chided gently.

“She wants to tell,” Cole said miserably. “But she is afraid you will not listen because he only touched, because others experience worse.” He sat up straighter. “But you would listen. I could tell her…”

“No Cole,” Nassella said quietly.

“But I want to help. How can I help?” She smiled at the spirit.

“You are helping Cole. Sometimes helping means just being there, letting the other person know you will help them when they are ready.” She looked at Naomi’s peaceful form. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she had only really known the woman for a few months. And if someone had hurt her in the past… it was no longer surprising that she withheld information. She reminded herself of all the things Naomi had already opened up about: her homesickness, sadness over losing David, worry for James, frustrations with adjusting to life in Thedas, her concerns for learning to fight… all these things they had talked about. Nassella settled under the covers, careful to keep a space between their bodies. She would just have to trust, and hope, that Naomi would realize she could reveal this last piece of herself.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi had decided not to move once she entered the Fade. She knew if there was going to be a time she would meet a demon, it would be that night, and she intended to make them work for it. So she had conjured a bow and a target to work on her aim while she waited.

It didn’t take long.

“Hello gorgeous.” She turned, casually drawing an arrow and notching it on the string. She glared at the demon’s representation of Alec.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said. And realized it was true. She wasn’t afraid… she had almost gotten away, had fought back. Only his purge had incapacitated her. Now, she was just angry.

“That’s too bad… I like it when you’re afraid…” he said, taking a step forward. Naomi stood her ground.

“Of course you do,” she said. “If a woman won’t give you what you want, you just intimidate them until they do. And take it from those who won’t.” He chuckled.

“Not all women… just the weak ones.” He looked her up and down. “It’s not like you’re good for anything else.” Anger flared through her, and she raised her bow slightly. It was not unexpected… but it was still infuriating to hear the words from his mouth. Even if it was a demon’s mouth. Alec hadn’t gone after women like Cassandra, or Leliana, or Nassella. No. It was Tranquils and mages… powerless women. And he had seen her as that.

Because she had thought that about herself.

But not anymore.

“No,” she growled. “You’re just a pathetic man who can’t handle hearing no. Who thinks he has a right to anything he wants. But not anymore.” She lowered the bow. He had scared her, but there were others he had actually hurt. She had been lucky, and refused to wallow in what could have been. “You’re going to be punished for what you’ve done to those other women.” The demon grinned.

“Things I would do to you in a heartbeat.” Naomi gripped her bow tighter, but kept it lowered.

“It doesn’t matter. You never will.” He scowled, pacing and studying her.

“Doesn’t it? Shall I describe everything I want to do? The ways I would take you, the things I would have you do? How you would scream and beg…” Naomi watched the agitated demon, anger simmering just below her skin, trying to determine its motivation. This is what she had prepared for. She would not give in to what it wanted. She knew demons were drawn to strong emotions… but the only thing she was feeling was angry.

_Rage then?_

She almost laughed.

“It won’t work,” she said. “Whatever you want, you won’t get it from me.” She turned back to the target, raising her bow to shoot an arrow, willing a small piece of her anger to fly away with it. A prayer came to mind, one she had used since childhood.

 _Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name,_  
_Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven._  
 _Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,_  
 _And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…_

“No!” the demon yelled. She turned to see he had stopped, face twisted in a scowl. “You are broken. You must blame someone.” Naomi glared, but knew the demon was right. The day had been more confusing than she wanted to admit. She was frightened when Alec tried to hurt her, but after James gave her the lyrium, she had felt more alive and alert than ever in her life. She had wanted to fight, to run, to do _something._ Then she had focused on Cullen’s golden eyes.

Cullen’s beautiful eyes, set in his beautiful face, looking into her own, his hand on her cheek, holding her hand… despite anything Alec had done, she wanted Cullen in that moment. Every muscle in her body had wanted to move toward him, feel his strong arms around her, and feel his hands on every inch of her skin.

It terrified her, and not because of Alec.

She watched as the demon’s lips pulled back in a grin. “Ah, of course…” Its figure morphed, growing shorter, hair darkening, nose shrinking. Noami knew who it would be, but it was still a shock to find herself looking at her cousin, brown eyes glinting far more dangerously than they ever had in person.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I’m the reason you are so timid, why he knew he could take advantage of you.” He walked toward her. “I’m the reason you are so afraid, why you will never have the man you want…” Naomi couldn’t move. After what had happened… they had never talked about it. She had avoided him, he had stopped, and they put it behind them. She had never confronted him… and now she never could.

But she had this demon.

And she finally had something to say.

“Yes,” she said, a couple of tears slipping from her eyes. “You’re the reason. You hurt me. I didn’t even realize how much until I was older, and you don’t even know how much, because I never said anything… And now you’ll never know. You hurt me, and you were fine. But I’ve been afraid most of my life because of you.” She took a deep breath. The demon was grinning, clearly pleased with itself. But it was wrong. “But you know what? I’m not angry. I don’t think I ever was. It just hurts.” The demon stopped. Frowned.

“Impossible.” Naomi wiped away her tears.

“What? You can’t imagine that I would forgive him?” She shook her head. “No, of course you can’t.” The demon scowled.

“I did this to you!” Naomi stood straighter.

“Yes, you did something to me. But ever since then, I’ve allowed what you did dictate how I act. And every time I do that, you win.” She clenched her fists. “But not anymore… I’m not going to be afraid anymore.” She stepped away from the demon. “This isn’t going to work.” Her cousin’s face twisted in rage, and suddenly his form began to morph once more, an otherworldly shriek coming from his mouth. Molten cracks formed on his skin, and Naomi realized it was reverting to the demon’s truer shape.

Before it could change further, Naomi pulled a knife from the Fade. She stepped toward the demon, slicing the half-morphed body’s throat, then slamming the blade through its chest. It shrieked, a clawed hand slashing toward her face, but she deflected the blow with a covered arm, watching as the demon melted into the floor of the Fade. She stepped back, heart racing, but unharmed.

_I did it._

“It seems I no longer have a need to worry for your safety here. Rage is often easy to give into, but you never flinched.” Naomi turned to find Solas standing a few feet away. She sheathed her blade.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re here,” she said. She glanced at the puddle on the floor, no longer angry, or even afraid. She was just tired, weary to her core. How many years of anxiety, fear, and hurt did that puddle contain? “I’ve never been very good at holding grudges.”

“Ah,” Solas said. A moment of silence. “I did not recognize that man.” Naomi shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Solas raised an eyebrow. She sighed. If she was truly going to move past this… she had to talk. “It was a cousin,” she said, watching Solas’ stricken expression. “It is not as bad as you’re thinking, I assure you,” she said quickly, not wanting his pity.

“Anything he could have done was too much,” he replied simply. She nodded.

“But like I said, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s… time I moved past it.” Anything her cousin or Alec had done was far from the worst thing to ever happen to her. That had occurred nearly a year ago when Corypheus opened the Breach. She had learned to deal with that, and it was past time she learned to better deal with this.

“It is not something you have to attempt alone.” Naomi glanced at him curiously, but before she could ask what he meant, he had cocked his head to the side, turning slightly away from her. She watched as his eyes grew wide, then narrowed, a snarl pulling back his lips to reveal his teeth.

“No,” he growled, fists clenched. Naomi tensed, matching his agitation.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. But Solas didn’t seem to hear her, his body beginning to tremble. “Solas, what’s the matter?!” she asked again with more urgency, glancing around their surroundings. _Are we under attack?_ His pupils had been thrown wide, eyes nearly black, but he shook his head, eyes returning to their normal gray color.

“I must go,” he said harshly. He took a couple of steps, then stopped, turning back with a softer expression. “And I do not believe you will find yourself taken advantage of again. You have grown more than you realize.” Her throat caught slightly, but before she could thank the elf he was gone.

Confused at Solas’ reasons for leaving so abruptly, Naomi turned back to the target, willing it to appear further away than any target she had hit before. She pulled out an arrow, shot, and missed.

 _I might as well make use of my time in the Fade... I don’t know how practicing here will translate to the waking world, but it can't hurt…_ She pulled out a second arrow, adjusted slightly, released, and hit the edge of the target.

 _You have grown more than you realize._ She pulled out a third arrow. It was true… she had grown. But there was much she could still learn. She drew back on the string and released the projectile, knowing immediately it would find its target.

_But you’re right. No one will take advantage of me again._

 

\-----

 

When Naomi woke, she was warmer and more comfortable than she had been in what felt like years. For a moment, she thought she was home, in the bed she had grown up in. But when she opened her eyes she found herself looking at the thin face of Nassella, a long pointed ear sticking up from a tangle of dark hair, her thin lips slightly parted.

She remembered then that Cole had brought her to the elf’s room the night before. _I must have fallen asleep before she returned._ She swallowed to clear the sleep from her throat, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at her cheek. She shifted slightly to bring a hand to the bandage. The movement was enough to wake Nassella.

“Naomi?” she asked sleepily, green eyes blinking in the light. Naomi smiled, ignoring the pinch from her wound.

“Yeah?” Nassella grinned fondly.

“Are you alright?” Naomi nodded. And then, on an impulse, she asked, “Can I tell you something?” Nassella’s eyes widened.

“Of course.” But then Naomi hesitated. _What am I doing?_ A deep breath. _Trying to move on._ Nassella was looking at her expectantly, and she remembered what the elf had told her the day before. _You don’t have to keep these things to yourself. You’re not alone here._

She had kept this to herself too long.

“This… isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lord's Prayer used.
> 
> And I've been using this to get some of my own personal feelings out, so thanks for sticking with it and humoring me!


	41. Glaciers and Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter yet, but I kind of had fun writing it, so hopefully you like it too!

“Loosen up on the reins a bit, give him some freedom to find a good path.”

“Well, maybe if we _were_ on a better path, I wouldn’t have to worry about that,” James grumbled, nervously glancing to his right, loose rocks sweeping down the steep slope to the valley floor below, the river nothing but a thin white ribbon in the distance. He wasn’t afraid of heights, had hiked up steeper slopes than this dozens of times. But never on horseback. Naomi huffed, turning in Liberty’s saddle from a few paces ahead.

“This path is fine. You just need to _relax._ Echo’s a good horse… he won’t fall unless _you_ mess him up.” James glared, but loosened his grip, eventually relaxing his expression. He knew Naomi was right, and he _was_ much more comfortable on horseback after travelling for weeks to the Western Approach and back. Still, this path was far from flat, and the tumble down intimidating.

“This better be worth it,” he said, grinning when Naomi narrowed her eyes, newly outlined with smudges of dark kohl. But she smirked as well before turning back ahead.

“Oh don’t worry, it is!” she called, a laugh in her voice, urging Liberty to pick up her pace. James smiled. You could look at Naomi, talk to her, and never suspect something horrible had happened nearly two weeks before. Only the freshly healing cut crossing her face indicated something may be wrong.

But he couldn’t let it go quite as easily as she could. He had called Alec a friend once, and couldn’t believe he had missed how twisted he really was. It had taken less than a day for Leliana’s agents to find two mages with the Inquisition who had known him in Kirkwall, and then one of the elven servants got the courage to say he had pressured her in Haven…

Everything had moved quickly after that. There was no denying his guilt, and Nassella had decided that allowing the man to retain his Templar abilities and status was unacceptable. He was locked up for his assaults, and cut off from lyrium to remove his abilities. The crowd in the great hall had gone momentarily silent over that verdict, and then erupted in twittering and whispered conversations. James and Naomi had been confused over the crowd’s reaction, until Varric had explained the darker side effects lyrium could have.

James wasn’t completely surprised, remembering the way his old Templar friends had discussed the subject before, mentioning that getting a steady supply of lyrium was a major reason for joining the Inquisition. He wished the man a painful withdrawal. Naomi had been horrified, grilling Varric for as much information as he knew on the subject, momentarily guilty that this was Alec’s fate. They had argued with her until she grudgingly conceded there was no other way to ensure his abilities were removed.

They had been riding in silence for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts, a cool spring breeze ruffling the hair against the nape of James’ neck. No one knew how the seasons normally progressed this high in the mountains, and James had no point of reference for _any_ location in Thedas, but reports from lower elevations indicated that the spring was much warmer than normal across Thedas. Naomi said that was why the snow had disappeared enough to take this path. She had explored it a few days earlier and now insisted that he see what she had found.

When they finally rounded the curve of the mountain, he was glad she had.

The trail had followed the contour of the slope, and he could see now they were on course to meet up with the rising valley floor, right where the river met its source.

A glacier, sweeping from the highest heights of the Frostbacks, dominated their view as the horses plodded forward. Even from their distance he could see the water rushing off of its surface, feeding a small lake at its base, before it spilled over into the river that would eventually end up in the lower lake where a small town was quickly growing outside of Skyhold’s walls. Even more of the mountain range was visible rising behind the glacier, snowcapped peaks shining with the late afternoon light, rising higher than any mountain range he had ever seen. It was breathtaking.

When he finally looked away, he found Naomi watching him with a knowing grin. He rolled his eyes, but smiled, and Naomi’s expression grew even smugger before she turned back around.

They dismounted at the lake’s shore, cool wind blowing from the glacier, the leading edge taller than he had imagined from the slope. He glanced at his sister, who was grinning foolishly while she scanned the view, patting Liberty’s side, the horse already bent down to drink the silty glacial water. She saw him watching her and smiled broadly.

“Pretty awesome, right?” He smiled back.

“I’ll say.” He brought a hand to scratch his chin through his beard. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this view when we first approached Skyhold.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly in a condition to notice the first time either.” She sighed. “I just can’t get over how beautiful it is! I’ve always loved glaciers… but this is so much more impressive than anything I ever imagined I would see. And we live right next to it all!” James laughed.

“You were always a sucker for this type of thing.” He studied the view. “This kind of reminds me of the hike we were on when…” He stopped, not sure why he had made that comparison. This looked nothing like the small valley they had been climbing in Canada. But Naomi humored him.

“Yeah, I guess it does. Only way bigger.” A moment of silence. “You know, it’s almost been a year.” He frowned. _It hasn’t even been a year?_ But he knew it had to be true. They had arrived in spring, and it was now spring again. But it felt like it had been much longer, when he thought back on all that had happened.

“I… hadn’t really thought about it,” he said.

“Me either, but I heard some soldiers talking about it the other day.” She paused. “That’s why I came out here in the first place… for some time alone.”

“You could’ve gone to your room.” She shook her head.

“No, I wanted to be outside. I’ve been feeling cooped up lately. First I never left Haven, and now I’ve been in Skyhold for months. It’s starting to get a little restricting.” She looked at him and smiled. “I’m jealous that you’ve been able to travel so much. I’m actually surprised Nassella didn’t take you to the Exalted Plains.” James shrugged.

“She wanted to give me a break. Besides, I’ve taught her enough of our language, she really doesn’t need me to be there anymore.” What he didn’t tell Naomi was that he had asked Nassella to leave him behind so she wouldn’t be alone, so he could watch out for her and make sure she felt safe. Nassella, feeling guilty for leaving so soon after the ordeal, had agreed. So she had left to help Solas’ friend in the Plains, leaving him to spend more time with his sister than he had in months.

But so far Naomi had seemed fine, as that day’s excursion demonstrated.

“Well, we better head back,” she said, pulling Liberty away from a tuft of grass she was munching on. “The sun will set soon, and I promised Dorian I’d meet him in the tavern after dinner.” James climbed on Echo’s back and guided him to fall into step behind Liberty.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked. _The last thing she needs is to get hit on by some drunk guy._ After the whole ordeal with Alec he had been much more aware of how often men looked at his sister in less than neutral ways. He knew she was attractive, but he had never really thought about what that could mean before. But she didn’t seem to notice.

“I think it sounds like a great idea,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. James frowned.

“I’m coming too.” Her face split into a smile.

“Great!”

So James found himself three hours later sitting around a table in the Herald’s Rest, Bull and Varric on either side. Naomi was across the table, squished between Dorian and Krem, Bull’s second in command. Sera rounded out the group. And at that moment, they were all various stages of drunk.

Except for him. He was nursing his third ale in nearly as many hours, leaving him nothing but a slightly warm feeling and a tingle on his lips. He’d long since lost track of Bull’s drinks, but the Qunari was far louder than normal, indicating he had had plenty. Sera wouldn’t stop laughing and had been hit with a persistent case of the hiccups. Varric had been growing quieter and sleepier with each drink he consumed, while Dorian and Krem were alternating between arguing about Tevinter’s class system and bonding over complaining about the poor quality of food and weather in Ferelden. And Naomi wouldn’t stop smiling or laughing.

Or talking.

“Bull, do Qunari women have horns?”

“I love glaciers sooo much! I wish they weren’ melting back home…”

“Dorian, how do… doyouget your mussstache so perfect?! Is like it’s no’real!”

“Is it just me, or does thisss taste better than earlier…?”

“Jamess! Can you believe we live in a cassstle!?”

“Stop… laughing at me Sssera!”

“Oh, it’s gone,” she eventually said, looking sadly into her glass. Then she smiled. “I’ma going to get more…”

“I do rather like… watching you leave,” Dorian said with a smirk. Naomi just laughed and rose shakily to her feet, weaving her way through the crowded room, stumbling every few feet. James watched her all the way, until she nudged her way through the crowd to the bar. He watched one of the men next to her back up a little and glance at her backside, then whisper to the man on his other side, who also took the opportunity to admire his sister’s rump. James was up and across the room in a few seconds, inserting himself between the men and Naomi. She turned to him, eyes glassy in the dim light.

“You getting… another drink?” she asked with a grin.

“Um, no,” he said. Naomi frowned, lower lip sticking out in a pout.

“Come on James! You need… to drink more!” she said, head rolling slightly to the side before she corrected it. She blinked at him and smiled.

“Well I think you should take it easy,” he cautioned as the barkeep brought her another glass of mead. She rolled her eyes and took a sip.

“You’re one to talk. You come… come to the tavern all the time.” James winced. It was true he had frequented the tavern many times over the past year, but that pattern had been drastically changed with all of his travelling.

“Yes, but don’t you think you should be careful, considering… you know, what happened.” She grimaced, drinking once more from her glass. When she was done she gave him a level look.

“I tried being careful, but tha’really didn’ work, now did it?” James sighed.

“You weren’t drunk when he tried to hurt you.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes again.

“I’ve felt better these last few days knowing he’sss… locked up than I have the las’year. Don’ worry, no one’s… going to mess with me.” She took a long drink. “Besides… you’re the one who saysss I need to… ha’ more fun,” she said as she pushed off from the bar. James watched her return to the table, and was about to follow when he felt small arms snake around his waist, a slim body pressed against his own.

“James!” Mayra said, her cheeks flushed.

“Mayra? I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.” She pulled her lips back in a smirk.

“I decided at the last minute, an’ then I saw you were here.” She put her hands on his cheeks. “An’ I wanted to kiss you…” Hands tangled in his hair and roughly pulled his head down to her level, lips crushed sloppily to his. He parted his lips slightly in surprise and Mayra shoved her tongue into his mouth. He could taste the ale on her breath, and she moaned. He pulled back slightly, but she continued to land urgent kisses along his cheek, jaw, neck…

“Mayra…,” he said gruffly, uncomfortable with her display in public but unable to deny his body’s reaction. Her lips found his again and he didn’t pull away, landing his hands on her hips, head buzzing with the alcohol and the feel of her body pressed flush to his. But then one of her hands left his neck and travelled down the front of his body, until it was pressing through his trousers against his slightly hardened cock.

He jumped, pushing her away. “Jesus Mayra!” he gasped, taking a gulp of air. “What in the heck…”

“Come on James,” she pouted, trying to pull herself closer, to no avail. “We’ve kissed enough! I wanna fuck…,” she said with a smirk, reaching for his hips. He pushed her further out of reach, though his erection throbbed in response. Still, he wasn’t quite sure what to do, and this certainly wasn’t something he wanted to discuss in the crowded tavern.

“This… can we talk about this somewhere else…?” Mayra grinned, grabbing his hands.

“Yes,” she said, moving backwards, “Let’s go find somewhere… private…” James stopped.

“No… just to talk.” She dropped his hands and crossed her arms.

“Come on James, we’ve been kissin’ for months.” She took a suggestive step forward. “I wanna do more…” James sighed. This wasn’t how he had imagined the first time he had sex would be like, and found his initial flush of desire waning.

“Mayra, not tonight…” She gave a frustrated huff.

“Fine. I don’t need you anyway…” she said, brushing past him. He grabbed her hand, causing her to turn back toward him. She glared at him, blue eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” She pulled her hand away.

“I _mean_ that I don’t want to waste any more time with you.” James frowned.

“What? That’s it? Just because I won’t sleep with you?”

“I’ve tried to be patient, but I don’t want to wait any longer.” And then she disappeared into the crowd.

_Did she just break up with me?_

_Were we actually ever dating? Is that a thing here?_

Confused, but not exactly upset, James returned to the table, noting that Naomi had already finished her glass of mead. And as he sat, Bull reached across the table to pour her a shot from his own bottle.

“Bull…,” she wined, grimacing slightly at the liquid.

“Come on,” the Qunari said with a chuckle. “It’ll put some chest on your chest!”

“I don’t know, I think she has quite a lovely chest as it is.” James eyed Dorian, trying to decide what he hoped to gain from his comment, but the mage just nudged Naomi’s shoulder with a smirk. She turned bright red, but laughed, downing the drink in her cup. She immediately started coughing, sticking her tongue out slightly.

“Ugh.”

“Yes!” Bull said, grinning. “The second cup’s easier. Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one.”

“I’ll say,” Naomi rasped, then held out her cup for another shot. Bull laughed and poured her another.

“Nice!”

“Be careful Freckles,” Varric said through a chuckle. “You’ll feel that Qunari shit in the morning.”

“I don’reallycare,” Naomi said with a smirk, leaning on Dorian’s shoulder. “I finally feel good enough… togetreallydrunk, And I wan’to!”

“Yeah Varric,” Sera said loudly. “Let’er…hic… drink what she wants!”

“Oh, I won’t stop her Buttercup.” James watched as Naomi’s eyes started to flutter, her upper body swaying back and forth between Dorian and Krem. Then her head dropped to the table with a thud. Krem brought up a hand to pat her back.

“Might’ve given it to her a bit fast there Chief,” he said. Bull chuckled.

“Yeah, I’d say she’s done for the rest of the night. She got more down than I expected though.” James frowned, looking around the table. Naomi was nearly passed out and the others were showing no signs of stopping. He didn’t really trust they would be able to continue to watch out for his sister at this rate, and wondered what would have happened to her if he hadn’t come along.

“Was getting her this drunk really a good idea? After everything that happened?” he asked, glaring at the table. He felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

“Relax James,” Bull rumbled. “We won’t let anyone bother her.”

“You’re all drunk,” James grumbled. “How were you going to do that if I wasn’t here?”

“The Chief’s a good babysitter, no matter how much he drinks,” Krem said with a chuckle.

“I still think this was a bad idea,” James said, noting Naomi had brought her hands up to the table to serve as a pillow.

“James, just because some asshole bothered her doesn’t mean she should stop having fun. In fact, getting things back to normal will probably help more than anything.”

“And a night of inebriation can do wonders,” Dorian added cheerfully, downing his drink. James crossed his arms. He’d used drinking to cope with the shock and grief of being pulled from his home, and knew how alcohol could make him feel. But he hadn’t moved on because of alcohol. People had helped him with that.

“Well I’m going to take her back to her room,” he said as he moved around the table. He pulled Naomi’s chair back and hauled her to her feet.

“I don’wanna…,” she mumbled, trying to pull away. But she lost her balance and James had to hold her up.

“Well, you’re going anyway,” James grunted, putting one of her arms around his shoulders.

“Give her some water before she falls asleep!” Varric called as they walked away. James waved a hand to the group behind, half dragging Naomi from the tavern. She swayed slightly with each step and her head rolled against his shoulder. Outside in the cool night air he stopped to adjust his grip.

“Yer a ssspoilsssport,” she slurred, but seemed to make an attempt to better find her own feet. James sighed. Since when was he the responsible one?

“No, I’m just making sure you make it safely through the night.” Naomi hummed.

“I loveyou. Yer a… goo’brother,” she said, patting him on the stomach. He grinned.

“I know.”

“An’ if you nee’me ta hi’someone feryou… I’do it!” James chuckled.

“Oh yeah?” He felt her head nod vigorously against his shoulder.

“Mmhmm. Righ’in the nose!” They had reached the stairs to the main keep, and James worked to slowly get her up them. They were halfway up when Naomi blurted, “I shoul’punch Solas!” James frowned.

“What?”

“Yeah… he says yer’no goodfer Nessss, but thatssjusstupid! Yer like the… the niccessst, and the… the sssecon’mosst handssomme man in Skyhold!” She broke into a fit of giggles as they moved toward the doors to the main hall.

“Who’s the first?”

“Wha’?” Naomi asked, tripping over her feet.

“Who’s the most handsome?” _Not that I really need to know who she finds attractive…_

“…Dorian is,” she said after a moment. James opened the doors to the gardens. Her answer rankled him slightly, remembering how the Tevinter mage had been flirting with her all evening. But if that was someone she liked…

“It sounds like he might like you too,” he replied. She burst into laughter, and they had to stop walking when she nearly fell over. After a few moments she calmed enough to sputter through her giggles.

“If… he… findsss…either of us…. at… attractive…isss you!”

“What?” Naomi pulled herself up by his arm, patting his stomach once again.

“He’sssgay! Hessaysss… if ya cutyerhair… an’, an’shaved! You’d be… reeeal hanssomme!” Then she giggled. They were walking again and James tried to process this new information. If Dorian was gay… it suddenly made sharing a tent with him kind of awkward. _Except he’s never done or said anything… I mean, I never even realized…_

And what did he mean he’d be handsome if he shaved and cut his hair? He quite liked how he looked with a little scruff.

But before he could think more about it Naomi was bending over, emptying the contents of her stomach into a bush. James held her up while she wretched and rubbed her back when she was finally done.

“Oops,” she said miserably, spitting on the ground. “I never… threwup… fromdrinking before…” James chuckled.

“It’s probably good you did. It’ll make tomorrow morning a little better.” She groaned.

“Don’remind me.” He led her toward the next set of stairs.

“Then why did you drink so much?” He felt her shoulder shrug.

“I… think too much… but no’when I drink…” James rubbed her shoulder.

“It’s not a bad thing that you think.”

“But I makemyself… worry…”

“That’s ok too.” She didn’t answer and he entered the landing where her room was. He let her lean against the wall so he could open the door.

“James…?” she asked, staring at the floor and playing with her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“AmIpretty?” she asked in a rush. James cleared his throat, wondering where that had come from. He turned away from the door.

“Of… of course you are,” he said. She glared at him.

“Don’lie.” He shook his head.

“I’m not.” And he wasn’t.

“Wasss I pretty… backhome?” James sighed.

“Yes.”

“An’ I’m… I’mnice?” James frowned, definitely confused.

“Yeah. You’re one of the nicest people I know.”

“Then howcome no one akss me ondatesss…? Only here… when I’mssskinnier… an’ssstuff doessomeone ssay I’m pretty. Bu’not for datesss... jussssex!” James was shocked, completely unsure of how to answer. But even in the dark he could see Naomi was crying, and wracked his mind for a way to answer her question. _Maybe she’s not as OK as I thought._

She slid to the floor and he took a seat next to her. He let her cry for a few moments, and by the time she started to calm down he had his answer. He didn’t exactly feel comfortable talking about it, but while he wasn’t as far gone as Naomi, his alcohol consumption had left him a little more open to talking. Besides, he had stayed behind to make her feel better.

“It’s not true, you know. Guys wanted to date you back home.” She linked an arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Really?” she whispered. James nodded.

“Yeah. I know Ben did for sure.”

“Ben…?”

“Turner.” She sucked in a breath, clutching his arm.

“…Idon’believeyou.”

“It’s true. He had a crush on you for a long time. But you never seemed to realize he was flirting.” Naomi rubbed the fabric of his shirt sleeve between her fingers.

“But he flirt with erybody,” she mumbled. James shrugged. Ben _had_ been a flirt.

“True. But he meant it with you.” She sniffed.

“Issno’fair. I’mbadatflirting…” James chuckled.

“You’re just fine with Dorian.” She shook her head.

“Isno’the ssame.” James supposed that was true, since there was no pressure with Dorian.

“Actually, most of my friends thought you were pretty, and nice.”

“Di’they flirt?” She snuggled against his arm, and he glanced down to see her eyes were closed.

“Would you have wanted them to?” A moment’s pause, and he thought she had fallen asleep.

“No,” came the eventual reply.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m alwaysssalone. Noone says wanttodateme…” James didn’t say anything. He hadn’t really thought about it before… but it did seem strange. Naomi was beautiful, kind, smart… and had never dated. While he couldn’t completely answer Naomi’s questions, she was drunk and probably would remember little of this the next day.

“You’ll find someone someday,” he said lamely. _Also, I’m not exactly the person to be asking about this at the moment…_ he thought, remembering his encounter with Mayra in the tavern. He felt a stab of regret for how things had gone, and considered that she could be finding someone even now to drag back to her room.

He wondered what had caused his hesitation. He wanted sex… as nearly every man did. He hadn’t gone that far with Makenzie… their combined faiths keeping them from that particular step. But since coming here… he wasn’t so sure anymore it would be wrong to do it before marriage. And he was attracted to Mayra…

Naomi shifted slightly and he knew. He had hesitated because of her. Sex wasn’t a casual thing, and he hadn’t liked the casual way Mayra had approached it. Maybe if they could talk, once they were both more sober…

Naomi let out a soft snore and he grinned. He nudged her shoulder. “Naomi,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

“Wha…?” He carefully extracted himself from her arms and pulled her to standing. She leaned heavily against him and he opened her door, leading her into the small room. It was simply furnished, with a small bed and a trunk, a table with a washbasin and pitcher against one wall. By the dim light of the moon he saw that Naomi had already placed a small bouquet of spring flowers in a cup on the table. He brought her to the bed where she collapsed. He lit a candle, removed her shoes, and scooted the chamber pot closer to her head, in case she needed to throw up again. After bringing her a long drink of water, she snuggled under the blanket, and James decided he would stay the night. He opened the trunk at the foot of the bed to find a bedroll or a blanket. But first, he found a stack of drawings.

Carefully, he removed the papers from the trunk, setting the candle on the floor and leaning against the wall. Abigail had been the serious artist, but Naomi had always had a knack for drawing as well, and he felt his throat constricting slightly as he looked through her work.

On top were various scenes from back home: their house, a view of the town square, their college. Then landscapes he knew were special to her: the lake not far from their home, the Sand Hills, the Niobrara River. Then a series of prairie flowers and birds she had studied. And then the portraits.

They weren’t perfect, but Naomi had clearly spent a lot of time carefully rendering the faces of their family in charcoal. Their parents, Abigail, David. They were all there, even one of himself, and he didn’t want to think about why she felt the need to include him.

James stared at the faces he had not seen in nearly a year, the people he barely thought about anymore. He had almost forgotten how much David looked like their father, how much Naomi looked like their mom, and how beautiful Abigail was…

And he felt a strange longing to see them, something he’d never felt while away at college. It was something he didn’t think he would ever feel. He had issues with his parents, and Abigail was frustrating, but at that moment he wanted to show them what he could do, tell them all that had happened. Because despite everything he loved them, and seeing these drawings, imperfect despite Naomi’s skill, drove home that this was the only way he would ever see them again.

“James?” He jumped, sure Naomi had fallen asleep.

“Yeah?”

“I lied.”

“’Bout what?”

“Dorian’sno’the… mosthandssome.” He sighed, but smirked at the return to their earlier discussion.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm… Cullen is.” He paused. _Well, of course she thinks that… Mayra’s said as much as well._

“Bu’he doesn’t wan’to play chesssanymore…,” she mumbled, voice barely audible. Then a sniff. He frowned. From what he heard, they had been playing at least twice a week for months now. He had thought they were friends.

“Tell him you want to keep playing.”

“I… di’…”

“Try again.”

He pulled her bedroll from the trunk, placing the drawings carefully back inside. As he settled himself for the night he wondered how they had come to this point. The whole conversation was strange for Naomi, from revealing who she thought was the most handsome, to her breakdown over no one wanting to date her, to crying that Cullen no longer wanted to play chess…

 _Oh._ He felt foolish for not seeing the signs earlier. The way they looked at each other after Alec’s attack was proof enough. He turned over in his makeshift bed. He was far from qualified to deal with this, and they had never talked about this sort of thing before. But if Naomi wanted more with Cullen, he suspected the Commander wanted the same.

“Naomi?” he whispered.

But she had drifted to sleep, and there was no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I keep thinking of the the song Hey Brother for Naomi and James' situation, ha.


	42. Hungover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I split the chapter I was writing into two, so there should hopefully be another one coming today!

Naomi turned over in her bed, trying to pull the blankets closer around her body. She huddled in a ball, squeezing her eyes shut to keep out the little bit of sunlight that was streaming through the small window and below the door.

She had never been this hungover in her life. She didn’t drink much, as she was not often around friends she wanted to drink with, and even when she did, her tolerance for alcohol was relatively high. And she hadn’t gotten _drunk_ in Thedas at all. But last night… last night when Bull and Krem, Varric and Sera joined her and Dorian at the table, she had decided if she couldn’t feel comfortable enough around them to drink, if she couldn’t trust them, she was in trouble. So when Varric bought a round, she joined in. Then Bull got the drinks, followed by Dorian, then Varric again when her glass was empty. She’d hit the point by then where she normally slowed down, when her lips tingled and she felt… like she could laugh at anything. She was certainly more open by that point, no longer hesitating to join in conversations, ask questions, or make comments. Except she didn’t stop there.

She regretted that now. Her mouth was dry, her eyes were crusted, her head was pounding, and even though she wasn’t moving, her stomach was doing flips and she had the sinking suspicion she would empty its contents if she tried to get up.

_Fucking Bull and his fucking Qunari shit…_

But that wasn’t fair. She’d known what she was doing, had stopped caring about what her morning would be like by an hour into the night, because she was having _fun._

She had needed that, as the last two weeks had been more difficult that she anticipated. A large part of that was because Nassella had left so soon. She’d been there in the morning nearly two weeks earlier, to listen as Naomi confessed for the second time what had happened when she was a child, to hold her while she cried into a pillow and murmur softly her sorrow and understanding. She’d whispered her insecurities and fears to the elf, but also her decision, that she would find a way to move forward, and Nassella said she would be there, to listen or offer advice as Naomi tried to do just that. But she was the Inquisitor, with other friends to help and obligations to keep, so she had left for the Exalted Plains two days later, to stabilize the region and help Solas’ captured friend.

Naomi understood, knowing saving Thedas was by far the higher priority, and wasn’t angry, but it had left her no one to talk to. Cole had gone to the Plains, and talking to James was out of the question, as he thought Alec was the only problem. He’d apologized multiple times the first couple of days for not warning her about Alec sooner, but she’d assured him she didn’t blame him, that it wasn’t his fault. They had left it at that, James only bringing it up again the day before, and things had mostly gone back to normal between the two of them.

Worse was how everyone else had changed, though she considered that she may have just been more sensitive to others the last couple of weeks. Still, she couldn’t ignore the pitying looks, especially from Josephine, or the way everyone tiptoed around her for several days. She’d finally snapped at Dorian, after the third or fourth time he’d stopped himself halfway through commenting on the looks of some soldier or scout, insisting that she was fine, that he didn’t need to stop admiring for her sake. Sera at least had just made some joke that women were better in bed anyway, and left it at that.

That was what Naomi wanted; normalcy. She had gotten it, mostly, as those who knew her best seemed to quickly realize that talking was not how she wanted to handle what had happened. At least she knew they just wanted to help, were worried about her, cared. But she couldn’t control how everyone else in Skyhold reacted to the attack and the subsequent punishment of the Templar.

Naomi knew she had been victimized as a child, but had gone to great lengths to ensure no one found out she was a victim. But now… everyone knew. At least, they knew about Alec. Skyhold was not so large that what had happened could go unnoticed, and gossip was one of the most popular past-times. Naomi could no longer walk across the fortress anonymously, could not shake the feeling that whispered conversations she passed were about her. And the looks. She felt eyes on her all the time, and found herself nervous for the first time in months to be around strangers. Most people were just curious, but there were those, both men and women, who looked her over as if assessing whether she was worth a reduction in rank, imprisonment, and lyrium withdrawal, as if the crimes against her were the only ones Alec had committed. From what she saw, most found her lacking, but more disturbing were those who… didn’t.

She was not afraid, as anyone who hadn’t known before now knew of the friendship between herself and the Inquisitor, not to mention other prominent members of the Inquisition. Still, she was grateful for her new, private room.

A room, Naomi knew, she should try to leave before the day got much later _,_ and carefully rolled to her back, an arm over her eyes. With a deep breath, she sat up, swinging her legs to hang over the bed. Her head spun, and she sat for a number of moments with her head in her hands, continuing to take deep breaths in an effort to calm her stomach. While she waited for her body to adjust, she thought about what she had to do that day.

She wouldn’t be in the stables, as she had a day off, and her teaching duties had been suspended, Leliana passing the task off to one of her own scouts. Naomi had protested at first, but was secretly grateful. Teaching had lost its appeal after what had happened, and she was glad she would not be required to interact with strangers so personally for a while.

No, her morning was free, and the only appointments she had were a language lesson that afternoon with Leliana… and one with Cullen.

Naomi sighed, her eyes stinging with threatened tears. _That_ was the worst part of all. By now, nearly everything had returned to normal, at least among her friends. But not with Cullen. Normally on a day like this, she would spend an hour with him, teaching him new vocabulary in his office. Then, they would walk along the walls to the garden, reviewing what he had just learned. Finally, they would end up at the chess table, playing at least one game, but sometimes two, or even three, talking in her own language about anything that came to mind. Cullen learned better that way, and she enjoyed the chance to use her native tongue. That arrangement had been the norm for nearly two months, and Naomi had grown to love it. She enjoyed talking with Cullen, learning about Thedas from him while he in turn asked about her own world. She considered Cullen her friend, even though she knew her feelings were far deeper than that, as she could not deny her attraction to the man.

But it had all stopped. The first day she showed up for his lesson, Cullen had insisted he was too busy and canceled for the first time. She’d thought little of it, knowing he was busy preparing to assault Adamant fortress. The second day he hadn’t canceled, but had said he was too busy to play chess, so she had left once he had received his new vocabulary, again convinced it was because he was too busy.

However, that had continued into the second week, and she now knew he was avoiding her. He barely looked at her, had stopped laughing when she tried to make jokes, and no longer sat next to her when they crossed paths at meals. Everything else was returning to normal, but Cullen seemed to get more distant every day.

She was confused, unsure if he was angry with her… blamed her? But he didn’t seem angry, and she couldn’t forget that he had helped her right after the attack, hadn’t fought Nassella’s judgement of the Templar.

 _I guess we weren’t really that good of friends after all… I knew it was too good to last._ That had to be it, Naomi decided sadly. _He got tired of spending time with me._

But that was even more confusing. Nothing from the last few months suggested he would suddenly want to stop spending time with her. It wasn’t like _she_ had pushed him to spend time with her. He was the one who had first sat with her to eat, who had wanted her to teach him her language. She had given him plenty of opportunities to stop spending time with her, but he had never taken them. Until now.

Carefully, Naomi stood, swaying slightly on her feet. She got her balance, took a step, and promptly felt her stomach heave. With a moan she fell to the floor, emptying her stomach into the chamber pot placed near the head of her bed. When she was done she sat against the wall, eyes closed.

_James._

She vaguely recalled he had helped her back last night, holding her up when she couldn’t do it herself. She smirked, despite everything. _I’ll have to thank him later… and apologize for every time I said he was irresponsible._

Feeling slightly better, she stood carefully once more, walking to the small table that served as a vanity, rinsing out her mouth with water, drinking a large portion of her pitcher after her mouth was clean. She went through her morning routine, slower than normal, washing her face, untangling and re-braiding her hair, scrubbing her teeth with an elfroot and mint paste. She was still dressed from the night before, so didn’t need to change, and picked up the small piece of mirror from the table to inspect her face.

That particular object had come with the room, and Naomi was already having mixed feelings about it. For nearly a year she had gone without looking at her appearance. Initially that had been strange, and she worried about what she looked like. But that had eventually gone away, and she had felt some of her insecurities disappear. But now she had a mirror, and felt herself slipping back into her old habits, fretting about her hair, the few blemishes that still showed up on her chin with her monthly cycle. She touched the freshly healing skin on her left cheek, frowning slightly at the scar that was forming there. She didn’t think it would be that noticeable, in the end, but it would never go completely away. She turned her head slightly, finding the other scar next to her right eye, left over from being pulled to Thedas. She wondered how she had gotten that cut, and the matching one on her thigh, knowing it must have happened after the explosion, but before her skin became fade-touched.

Naomi picked up the piece of kohl from the table, smudging some of the dark pigment along her upper and lower lashlines. Seeing her face again reminded Naomi why she preferred to wear at least some eyeliner at all times back on Earth, finding it added a little… maturity, to her features. And after what happened with Alec, she wanted that small wall between herself and everyone else.

A knock echoed from the door and Naomi jumped, suppressing a groan at the pounding in her head.

“Naomi!” a voice called from the other side. “Let me in! James claims you are alive, but I insist on seeing it for myself!” Naomi smiled and crossed the room to open the door, squinting in the bright midmorning light.

“Dorian,” she croaked. The mage smirked, holding up a mug and a cloth-wrapped bundle.

“I have breakfast and a remedy for the headache I imagine you are currently suffering from.” Naomi opened the door to let him in.

“I should have known you would know how to get rid of a hangover,” she muttered. Dorian chuckled, offering her the mug of tea before pushing his way into the room.

“It’s one of my many useful skills. Now, drink that and eat a sweetroll. I’ll have you good as new in no time.”


	43. Withdrawal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! These last two chapters were originally going to be one, but I decided to split it up. I hope it was worth the wait!

Cullen felt as if his head was splitting open. It reminded him of the time he’d been hit with a practice sword in the head as a teenager, barely two years into his Templar training. But this pain would not dull for hours on end, and lately it was as if he had been hit with that sword nearly every other day for the past two weeks. And it wasn’t just his head. His joints almost constantly ached, his hands shook, and his body alternated between bouts of intense shivering and flashes of heat.

And those were just the physical symptoms. His nightmares were unrelenting, and they no longer always stopped when he was awake.

He felt himself slipping. The withdrawal had always been present, had been bad. But it had gotten worse.

It had come at the worst time, as he tried to prepare the Inquisition’s forces to attack Adamant. This assault could not go as Haven. He needed to ensure they were entirely prepared for every contingency, so they would not fail to stop the Wardens and their insane plan to raise this demon army. But recently, he found himself locked in the grip of this pain more days than not, and he knew it was affecting his work.

Cassandra had refused to find him a replacement, said it was unnecessary. But she didn’t understand, couldn’t understand the way his mind was constantly fogged, how it hurt to walk, how he couldn’t sleep for fear of his dreams. He felt twice his age, weak, in stark contrast to the strength he had always had, could always demonstrate when he was a Templar. It was strength he knew he could regain.

Cullen ran a thumb along the outside of his lyrium kit, the wood rough on his skin. Everything was as he had left it. The knives and spoon for measuring a dose of the drug, the grinder for breaking up the crystals and the small pouch used to collect the powder, ready to be filled with water and taken. And there, in the corner, the small vial of lyrium, glowing enticingly with a soft blue light.

This could all end. In less than five minutes, he could have a draught prepared, the pain could be gone, his strength returned. He could be the Commander the Inquisition needed, could give the Inquisition his best.

_I should take it… I cannot give the Inquisition less than I gave the Chantry._

Cullen picked up the vial of lyrium crystals, turning it slowly between his fingers. But he hesitated to start the preparation. It had been over a year since his last dose. Would he really give up that progress now?

 _What progress?_ Cullen though bitterly, shuddering as a stab of pain shot from behind his eyes. The withdrawal was not getting better. It was getting worse.

For the first time, Cullen considered that he would not survive this decision with his mind or body intact.

The door across from his desk creaked, and Cullen quickly returned the lyrium vial to the box, closing the lid while he looked to see who was entering his office. He gripped the box when he found himself looking at Naomi, a stack of papers and books in her arms, small smile on her face. She looked tired, but no less beautiful than she was every other day, thick hair in a braid over her shoulder, a pink flush on her cheeks, making the fresh scar on her face stand out. She approached his desk, expression falling slightly with each step, as he could only watch her draw nearer, unable to move.

He’d forgotten they were supposed to meet for a lesson. He’d distanced himself from her, after he realized his role in the attack she had experienced. It hurt to do so, but he could not ignore the pain he had caused her, could not bring himself to pretend everything was normal, could not go about his business with her like always, knowing he had hurt her. He was sure she had seen his connection to the whole ordeal and would want to stay away from him. But she would be too kind to say anything, so he had pulled away to save her the trouble, given her the space she needed. And though duty kept bringing them together, they had seen each other less the last two weeks than any time over the last two months.

He hadn’t realized how important the time they spent together had become to him until then. He’d always looked forward to their time together, but trying to stay away had been physically uncomfortable, the first time he sent her away from their lessons accompanied by a tightening of his chest, painful in a way unlike his withdrawal but no less raw. But he knew she was better off, having seen her laughing with her friends from a distance, moving on from the ordeal quickly, as he knew she could.

But seeing her reminded him of his greatest reason to resist starting lyrium again. Everything bad from his life had occurred while he had served as a Templar. Every painful memory, every scar, every regret, was a result of his service. He’d become a Templar to help people, but in the end, all there had ever been was hurt.

And even leaving had not kept him from hurting her.

“Are you ready for the lesson?” Naomi asked. Cullen cleared his throat, trying not to frown as his head throbbed.

“Not today,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. “I’m very busy with these preparations,” he said as an excuse, gesturing weakly toward the papers littering his desk. He saw her frown, and watched as she stared at her papers, fiddling with the corners of the parchment.

“Oh… alright,” she said. But she didn’t leave, instead looking up at him, brows still pulled together. “If… if you need a break, we could play chess later…” Cullen shook his head, the movement small to keep the pain from flaring.

“Not today,” he said. Naomi nodded, turning away quickly.

“Alright,” she said softly, moving toward the door that would bring her to the stables, leaving so quickly that the door remained ajar. Cullen sighed, looking back to his lyrium box, opening the lid once more. He stared at the vial of blue lyrium. Those glowing blue crystals, appearing so innocuous, even beautiful, that were both the source and remedy to his current state. That substance that had provided him the opportunity to learn to fight, given him incredible power and strength, yet brought him to his knees at its mere absence. Lyrium tied him to his time as a Templar, where he had not only set Naomi up to be hurt long before he knew her, but whether he took it or not, would keep him from pursuing the deeper relationship he had long known he wanted.

He was trapped. After seeing Naomi, he knew he could not take it again. But he did not know if he could endure the pain. If this trend continued he would soon be useless, and if Cassandra refused to replace him, the Inquisition would suffer.

He glanced at the figure of Andraste carved into the lid of the box, anger rushing through his body in a sudden wave. He had always been told he was doing the Maker’s work, but how could He reward His servant’s in such a way? How could He allow this to be the cost of service?

With a sudden growl Cullen flung the box, closing his eyes at the sudden influx of pain, waiting for the satisfying crash. It came a second later, accompanied by a yelp.

“Schijt!”

Cullen’s eyes flew open, and he looked with horror and shock toward the open door to see Naomi, hands still raised as she had shielded herself from his anger, papers fluttering to the floor, covering the scattered implements from the kit. Cullen took a few steps around his desk toward her, faltering when the pain from the joints in his legs flared.

“Maker’s breath… I… I didn’t see you!” he exclaimed through a groan. He expected her to run, but instead she lowered her arm and took a step forward. He held up a hand to stop her.

“No… you don’t need… Maker…” Cullen said shaking his head. _Will this never end?_

“Cullen,” she said, concern, and forgiveness, etched on her face, taking another step toward him. “It’s alright. You didn’t hurt me.”

It was too much. Cullen dropped heavily to the floor, back to the bookcase, and buried his face in his hands.

He didn’t exactly cry, but he felt a few tears slip from beneath his eyelids as he thought of Naomi, himself, and the Templars of Ferelden’s Circle and the mages at Kirkwall’s who had suffered from the entire arrangement. An arrangement he knew was broken, yet one he could not imagine the world surviving without.

After several moments he forced himself to return to the present, and realized with a flush that Naomi was sitting right next to him, and though there was a small space between their bodies, her hand was on his knee, thumb gently working back and forth in small circles, causing his skin to tingle through the fabric of his breeches.

Cullen froze, entirely focused on those small movements. He had not broken down like this since… since Ferelden’s Circle, and had certainly never intended for it to happen in front of another person. He was ashamed, knowing he should have better control over himself. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the tears from his face and the haze from his mind. Naomi removed her hand and Cullen ached at its absence.

“It’s the lyrium, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“What?” Cullen croaked. He saw her move, pointing to the shattered box and implements scattered across the floor.

“You’re not taking it anymore, are you? Varric talked about the… the withdrawal…” Cullen swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, a painful ache remaining after his tears. He had not wanted her to know, but he would not lie to her.

“No… I’m not. Not since I left the Templars.”

“Cullen… what can I do? How can I help?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. Cullen dared to turn his head and look at her, surprised to find her eyes shining with tears. It troubled him. The last thing he deserved was her compassion.

He looked away. “Nothing. I will handle this,” he said, attempting to stand, only to groan from the pain and fall back down. Her hand returned.

“Cullen, please, let me…”

“No!” he said, more forcefully than he intended. Her hand withdrew. “Please Naomi,” he pleaded, voice softer, “you don’t need…”

“But I _want_ to,” she interrupted, voice cracking slightly. “We’re… we’re _friends_ Cullen. And you’re hurting and I want to help you. Please don’t push me away…” She faltered, emotion keeping her from saying anything further. Surprised, Cullen looked back and found her face buried in the palms of her hands, shoulders rising and falling as she took deep, calming breaths.

And he knew. Knew he had been wrong. She didn’t blame him, for anything. _We’re friends_ , she’d said, almost as if he wouldn’t agree. _Please don’t push me away._

Yes, he’d been wrong. This woman had been torn from nearly every person she ever loved. He had watched her struggle to rebuild those connections, replace those she had lost. He was part of her new circle, he had made sure that he was, but he had upset her new balance by removing himself.

He’d hurt her, once again, and he momentarily forgot his pain, seeing her own.

“Naomi,” he said gently, daring to place his own hand on her knee. If she noticed his touch she did not acknowledge it, though her breathing started to clam. “I’m sorry… forgive me.” She removed her hands, blinking furiously and wiping away the few tears that had escaped her now red eyes.

“It’s… it’s fine,” she said, taking a deep breath. “And _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t be crying, you’re the one in pain.” Then she gasped, pulling a flask from here belt. “Drink this,” she said, offering him the container. He took it, smelling primarily elfroot and mint, as well as a number of unknown spices, noting the combination already had a soothing effect on the pounding in his head.

“What is it?”

“Dorian’s hangover remedy. I thought perhaps it would help with your symptoms.” Cullen frowned, unsure if a mage’s homemade medicine would be a good thing for him to consume. Naomi seemed to read his thoughts, as she commented quietly. “There’s no lyrium. I asked.” With a nod he downed the flasks contents, momentarily wondering why she had such a concoction with her. The underlying flavors beneath the elfroot were unfamiliar, though not unpleasant, and the taste was enough to reduce the splitting in his head to a mere headache, albeit a strong one. Whether or not it would reduce the ache in his joints was yet to be seen.

“Thank you,” he said, returning the flask. She smiled hopefully and his gut twisted in a knot. “Thank you,” he repeated, “but I really must get back to work…” Her eyes flashed with anger and her nostrils flared slightly.

“Why!?” she demanded, turning toward him but moving away in the same movement, leaving a coldness at his side. “Why won’t you do anything with me anymore? I know you’re busy, but you still need to take breaks…” Her expression softened. “And if… if it’s the lyrium… Cullen, you don’t have to deal with it alone. I can try and help…” He shook his head and she quieted, though the tension in her jaw indicated her mind was working on her next argument. She really didn’t see what he had done, or rather, failed to do.

“I assumed you would want to stay away from me, after what happened…” he explained. She frowned, and then her eyes grew wide.

“Cullen… he was just one man. I know you would never… you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“But I did!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. _How can she not see that?_ “I put you with him. I brought him from Kirkwall. And _I_ should have found out what he had done sooner. This never would have happened if I had done better... Forgive me.” He closed his eyes, waiting for her to realize his guilt and leave, or yell out in anger. But she did neither.

“Cullen,” she said gently, and he heard her shift closer, felt her warmth return to his side. “There’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself like this. And… and I’m _fine_ Cullen. I just want things to go back to normal.”

“But…”

“You had no reason to suspect him. I was the one… _I_ could have said something sooner.” Cullen felt his chest tighten.

“But I did,” he whispered. “There were others like him… in Kirkwall. I had years to find out.” She was silent, and Cullen knew she had finally realized his part.

Eventually, she spoke. “Cullen,” she said slowly. “The scariest thing about people is how good we can be at hiding the worst things about ourselves. Even those closest to us can have secrets we never suspected…” She paused and he held his breath, unsure what point she was trying to make. “You can’t expect to know everyone’s secrets, especially when someone actively works to _keep_ them that way.” Cullen wanted to believe her, that Alec could have kept this secret. It was possible, he supposed, as Alec had only been at the Gallows for a few months before Meredith fell, but all of the others…

“Varric’s told me a little about Kirkwall…” Cullen couldn’t move, as Naomi’s thoughts mirrored his own. “I’m not saying you didn’t make mistakes in the past, but if there’s one thing I believe it’s that people can _change_ , and that you shouldn’t be punished for those mistakes forever.” He looked at her, and her expression was pure honesty. “I’ve only ever seen you do good, and help others. And you’ve said yourself you are trying to bring peace after what happened in Kirkwall. _That’s_ how I see you, and that’s how you should too. Because _that’s_ who you are.” Cullen let out his breath, not realizing he had been holding it nearly the entire time she talked. If it were anyone else he might question her sincerity, but he knew she was not lying. She did not blame him for anything. The weight lifted from his chest, and it had been far heavier than he had realized.

“And you _can’t_ think you hurt me. Cullen, it’s… it’s….” she shook her head, then looked at him with shining eyes. “You’ve helped me so much since I came here. You… you probably saved me after David died, and in Haven, when Nassella was travelling all the time, I was so afraid, but it helped knowing you were around…” Cullen watched her as she spoke, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his body, and he realized his headache was gone.

“And that night you found me on the wall here in Skyhold…” Cullen remembered. It was the night he had realized his attraction toward her was far more than for her physical appearance. “I was having… nightmares after Haven, and I was so scared… but talking with you helped so much. And these last few months, with Nassella leaving and taking James, and Dorian, and Varric all of the time, _you’ve_ been the one keeping me from feeling completely alone. Cullen… you’ve helped me this entire time. And you have _never_ hurt me. Now please… let me help _you._ ”

Cullen couldn’t look away. She’d shifted again, sitting cross legged and facing him, leaning slightly toward him. Just like that night on the wall, she looked at him earnestly, willing him to believe what she was telling him, because she believed it entirely.

He _wanted_ to believe her; that he had helped as much as she claimed. But he could not let his guilt go that easily.

But he _could_ believe she was not angry with him, that she wanted to help. And looking at her wide eyes and hopeful expression, he knew he wanted the opportunity to see her like this again, in the coming days, weeks… years even. He would accept her help… and anything else she was willing to share.

“All right,” he said. She let out a breath and leaned back against the bookcase.

“How is your headache?” she whispered. “Did the tea help?” Cullen sighed.

“Yes, it did. The headache’s gone.” He saw her nod from the corner of his eye.

“Good… I’ve been reading about herbology… I’ll ask Dorian how he made this tea, and see if there’s anything else that could help…” Cullen couldn’t help but smile. She had not once suggested taking lyrium again would be the better option. No, she had started thinking of ways to manage the withdrawal.

He wouldn’t take it, he decided. Unless the Inquisitor ordered him, (and he would have to tell her of his concerns when she returned), he would endure. He would not be tied to that life anymore.

A bell sounded and Cullen sighed. He had a meeting soon, and even though he was feeling better, he also realized he was exhausted, and could use some time to prepare himself mentally.

“Naomi… Thank you, for everything. But I have a meeting I have not been able to prepare for, but now…”

“Of course. I need to go re-read some things anyway…” She stood, bending over to pick up her scattered books and papers. Cullen watched, admiring the lines of her muscles through her breeches, flushing when she straightened and walked back toward him. He started to stand, but his legs were stiff, and when he faltered, he found Naomi’s hand extended toward him.

He took it, allowing himself to be pulled to standing.

“I’ll see you later,” she said with a smile, turning to leave. But Cullen did not let go of her hand, holding her back.

“Naomi…” he said, but stopped. He knew what he wanted to say. That he was sorry, that he had missed her. That he never wanted to spend another day thinking she would not be part of his life.

She had stopped, looking down at their joined hands, then up at him with wide eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, and Cullen could feel their pull. He tightened his grip slightly, the urge to pull her closer, cup her cheek and take them with his own almost overwhelming. He stared into her blue-green eyes, pulled in by their vibrant color, and held his breath when they flickered downward to his own lips for a fraction of a second, a red flush spreading across her cheeks. Cullen’s heart raced, and for one, small moment, he thought he could finally kiss her like he had wanted to so many times before.

She moved away, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Cullen to come to his senses. It was not the time. Acting prematurely on his attraction would only frighten her, and he never wanted to drive her from his life again. There would certainly be a limit to her forgiveness.

So he dropped her hand and cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said simply. Naomi brought her lips together, swallowed, and nodded.

“Of course,” she whispered, voice barely audible. He watched her leave, fixated on the thick braid running down the back of her head, disappearing over her shoulder. At the door she stopped, looking back for a brief moment, and their eyes locked. It took everything in him not to call her back once more.

And when she was gone, Cullen stayed still for several minutes, sure that if he moved too soon he would run after her.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi left Cullen’s office and leaned against the wall next to the door, heart racing and breath short. Adrenaline coursed through her body, and her stomach was doing flips. She felt her face grow warm when she recalled how Cullen had looked at her, a wave of heat emanating from between her legs, the same response she had had when she could no longer hold his intense golden gaze and dropped her eyes to his lips, realizing in that instant how the scar bisecting them drew attention to their full shape.

It was not a look friends gave to other friends. She had woken that morning thinking he no longer wanted anything to do with her, but now she knew that wasn’t true. It was, in fact, the exact opposite.

It wasn’t just friendship Cullen wanted. Naomi took deep breaths, trying to calm their racing pace.

_He wanted to kiss me._

No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not even Alec, who always seemed to be thinking several steps ahead, had looked at her like that. She had not realized a look could do so much, his eyes simultaneously muddling her thoughts and offering intense clarity, drawing her closer and holding her still. She could _feel_ their pull, and didn’t need experience to know what they were pulling her toward. Her body’s response was answer enough.

Because she wanted to kiss him back.

And it scared her, just like when she recovered from the shock of the purge and found herself looking at Cullen. This was an unknown she wasn’t sure she was ready to explore.

_No. I told myself I wouldn’t let what happened affect me anymore. I said I would move on._

But she thought she’d have a little more time to get used to that new perspective. Instead, she had been presented a mere two weeks later with a man who wanted to kiss her. And not just any man. A man she had gotten to know for months, who made her feel safe, who she found she could actually talk to. One of the most attractive men she had ever met, who she had assumed would want nothing of that sort to do with her, who had surprised her by even being her friend.

This man wanted to kiss her.

And likely wanted more than that.

_Could I be mistaken? Maybe he was just grateful that I said I would help..._

But in her heart she knew that wasn’t the case.

_He wanted to kiss me._

She didn’t know what to do. She was still breathing heavily, and her heart was racing, but she didn’t know if it was panic or… excitement.

 _I can’t run away from this…_ Naomi took a deep breath. She couldn’t run away. She remembered thinking, back in Haven, that she would never find someone who she could love here, because she couldn’t be honest about her past. But Cullen knew where she was from. That was not an issue.

She needed to think. She needed to _ride._ Naomi pushed away from the wall, feet taking her quickly to the stairs. She had told Cullen she would find a way to help keep his withdrawal symptoms at bay. And she _would,_ as she remembered how much pain he was obviously in, angry that she had not realized how much he was suffering sooner. Every time he had seemed distracted, frowned, rubbed his head… it was withdrawal, and she had simply attributed it to stress.

But she would help him now, though that could not happen while her emotions were in turmoil. She needed to clear her head, and the best way to do that was on Liberty’s back in the mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter... Burning House by Cam.
> 
> I have recently acquired tumblr. I tell you this because I have put screenshots of my OCs there, if you're interested. It's pretty sparse at the moment, but long-liv-prairies is the name. That's all :)


	44. Ar Lath Ma

Nassella rode through the gates of Skyhold, followed closely by Vivienne, Blackwall, and Cole, immediately searching the courtyard for Solas’ shaved head, disappointed when she could not find his tall, pale figure among the crowd gathering to greet her arrival.

She had not seen him in a week, since they had failed to save his friend, a spirit of Wisdom, from the mages who had summoned it. She had never seen the elven mage so upset. Solas was reserved, kept his emotions in check. It was part of what she found attractive about him, and challenging, as she worked to maneuver his stoic exterior. It made the insights into his underlying feelings that much more rewarding. And she flushed, remembering the single kiss they had shared in the Fade those months ago and, and when unleashed, just how intense those emotions, and passion, could be.

They had not found a spirit of Wisdom in the Plains, but a demon of Pride. Solas had been understandably upset. Nassella was not a mage, and therefore had had little reason to concern herself with the Fade and its inhabitants while growing up. But through Solas she had gained an appreciation for what he found appealing about the world of spirits and demons. She understood, even felt, his pain at seeing his friend twisted beyond their original purpose. Anger, as well, when they had encountered the actual mages who had summoned the spirit.

They had tried to save the spirit, break the bonds holding it in the physical world with the hopes that it could return to the Fade. But the damage had been beyond repair.

She had not tried to stop him when he killed the mages.

He’d told her she had helped, but then he had left. He’d said he would return to Skyhold, but she could not find him. She feared he would not return. It had never been a guarantee that he would stay.

She slipped from Vir’nehn’s back, patting the hart on his dusty purple haunches to calm him, knowing he could spook when surrounded by people on all sides. She scanned the crowd once more, looking for any other familiar faces. There was Scout Harding, and Nassella was pleased to see the dwarf had returned safely from the Plains. She waved to Bull, the Qunari’s horned head sticking above everyone else, and when she looked down, found herself watching as James shouldered his way past a group of scouts, his eyes locked on hers.

Her heart thumped, and she couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face as he approached. His long legs closed the distance between them quickly, and when she lifted her arms to give him an embrace, he responded in kind.

She gasped when he stood to his full height, lifting her feet from the ground and crushing their bodies together. She squeezed him back as hard as she could, knowing her own strength was nothing compared to what James possessed, loving the feel of his warm, sturdy body against hers.

It was over in a matter of seconds, but she as breathless when he dropped her back to her feet. Still holding his arms she smiled at the man, taking in his handsome features, noting he had let his scruff grow a bit too long once again.

“I missed you,” she said. James grinned.

“Me too.” Then he frowned, ghosting a hand along her jaw, rubbing a thumb gently across the freshly healing cuts she had gotten while trying to close a rift the day after Solas had left. “What happened?” Nassella blushed, dropping his arms and taking a step back. It wasn’t just James’ company and conversation she had missed. She had missed having him there to fight by her side, realizing how accustomed she had grown to his presence on the battlefield the last few months, and how many blows he had likely kept from her as he threw himself between her and harm. His absence had taken some getting used to.

“It’s my fault,” she said. “I was careless. I had to get used to not having you or Solas around during fights.” James’ frown deepened, and his nostrils flared slightly.

“Where was Solas?” he asked, eyes leaving hers as he searched for the elf. “Why wasn’t he with you?” His intense gaze returned. Nassella sighed, reminded of Solas and his pain.

“We couldn’t save his friend, so he left. He needed some time alone.” James shook his head.

“He left you?!” he asked, incredulous. Nassella frowned.

“It wasn’t like that. He was devastated James. He’d known this spirit for years, and then it was killed…”

“It was just a _spirit._ That doesn’t justify him leaving you more vulnerable. Look what happened,” he said angrily, gesturing to her face. Nassella crossed her arms, standing up straighter, not that it did much to bring her nearer James height.

“The cut was my mistake, James. I should be able to take care of myself. I’ve been relying too much on you and Solas when fighting, and this was a good reminder.” James frowned again, and she continued before he could argue. “As for Solas leaving: I understand why he needed time, and you should too. He lost a friend he had known for years. The fact that it was a spirit doesn’t change that. Just look at Cole. We would all be upset if we lost him.”

“I… Yes, I suppose,” James said, running a hand through his scruff. “But he still shouldn’t have left,” he insisted. “We are supposed to protect and help you when we travel with you. No matter what...” He stopped and looked over her head, standing straighter and crossing his arms. She turned, already knowing who she would find, heart pounding in her chest.

_He came back._

Solas was standing a few paces away, looking past her to James with a deceptively neutral expression, one she had learned was a mask to hide the darker feelings underneath. But a second later his eyes were on her, the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips. She felt warmth spread through her entire body.

“Nice to see you came back,” James muttered sarcastically from behind. She turned her head toward him.

“James…” she warned. The man rolled his eyes but nodded, giving her a small smile before turning and walking away. She sighed, unsure if she could attribute the dislike James had toward Solas as just a difference in personality… or lingering jealousy. But when she turned back to Solas any concern she had disappeared, replaced with intense relief that he had returned.

“How are you, Solas?” she asked, taking a step toward him. He gave a small sigh.

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“Thank you for coming back,” she said earnestly.

“You were a true friend,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “You did everything you could to help. I could hardly abandon you now.” Nassella smiled, though she felt a little hurt when he simply called her a friend.

_Has he decided he doesn’t want more?_

They walked up the stairs toward the keep, and she asked Solas where he had gone, what he had done. She was encouraged to hear the spirit could return, in some form, someday. But Solas said it would not be the same.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone,” she said when they reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the main keep. It was bold, she knew, but Solas needed to know she still cared, that she still wanted more. He stopped and studied her, suddenly appearing vulnerable, in a way she was not accustomed.

“I–, “ he said, then paused. “It’s been so long since I could trust someone…” Nassella nodded.

“I know,” she whispered, remembering he had travelled alone for years, unable to find a place among the Dalish and unwilling to live among the city elves. She could not imagine the isolation he had felt.

“Nassella!” a voice called, and Nassella turned to find Naomi quickly approaching from the lower stairs, a large smile on her face. She would have hugged the woman, but her arms were filled with books and a stack of herbs, so she settled on a smile. “I’m so glad you’re back,” Naomi said, slightly out of breath.

“Me too,” she responded. “How have you been? Have things been alright here?” Naomi’s face fell momentarily, and Nassella worried for what may have happened in her absence. But the woman was quickly smiling again.

“Everything’s fine…” she said, though her gaze momentarily unfocused as she retreated into her thoughts. But she shook her head, returning to the present. “How was your trip? Were you able to help your friend Solas?” Nassella turned in time to see the flash of sorrow cross his features.

“Unfortunately, we were too late to save my friend.”

“I’m so sorry Solas, I can’t imagine…” Solas smiled sadly.

“Thank you Naomi, but I believe you have a better understanding than most.” Naomi swallowed visibly, but nodded her head, a shared understanding of grief passing between them. The moment passed, and when Naomi’s gaze returned to her own, she suddenly looked nervous.

“Um… Ness, could we… talk? Later?” she asked, staring at her herbs, ripping a couple of leaves off carefully and rolling them between her fingers. Nassella tensed.

“Of course. Are you sure everything’s alright? If someone did something…” Naomi quickly shook her head.

“No… no, it’s nothing like that. It’s…” she cleared her throat, cheeks turning slightly pink as she glanced toward Solas. “I’ll... explain later,” she mumbled, looking back to her things. Nassella studied her a moment, trying to decide what would make her friend this nervous. But she put the thought aside, knowing she would receive an explanation later.

“Of course. Why don’t we have dinner in my room tonight?” Naomi smiled.

“Yes, that would be good.” Nassella glanced at the books and herbs in her hands.

“What are all those for?” she asked, surprised when Naomi’s blush darkened.

“Oh… I’ve been trying to find ways to… um… help with lyrium withdrawal symptoms… for, um… Cullen.” Nassella raised an eyebrow, surprised. She knew Cullen tried not to advertise his condition.

“He told you he stopped taking it?”

“Um… well not exactly. I figured it out after he threw his lyrium kit across his office…” Nassella resisted the urge to inquire further, deciding she would ask Cullen about the progress of his condition later. It was not like him to lose control like what Naomi had described, and she needed to know he would be alright. But she was pleased to hear Naomi wanted to find a way to help. “Anyway…” Naomi continued, “I’ve been reading up about how to help with the symptoms, but I’ve having trouble finding information about the withdrawal, and about lyrium in general. It’s really frustrating….”

“I could see if the Inquisition can find any other resources elsewhere.”

“It may be difficult,” Solas offered. “The dwarves control the lyrium supply and are hesitant to reveal their knowledge.” Naomi frowned.

“Well that’s incredibly inconvenient,” she muttered to herself. Nassella smirked.

“So things have been normal?” she asked, still concerned that Naomi was not telling her everything about the time she had been away.

“Well, not at first. Everyone acted a little weird, and… Cullen was avoiding me…” she swallowed, staring at her things. “But everything is normal now… Mostly.”

“Oh?” Naomi blushed again, sighing in frustration.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said shortly, walking away quickly with a last glance at Solas. Nassella watched her leave, slightly confused. Solas chuckled softly next to her.

“I could be mistaken, but I believe Naomi may have finally realized the Commander’s feelings toward her are similar to her own.” Nassella felt her mouth drop open, then a grin spread across her face.

“Of course!” she laughed. “I can’t remember the last time she was that nervous talking about Cullen, and just now she could barely say his name…” She sighed, her smile dropping, knowing that both she and Solas understood the barriers the woman would still likely have to overcome, moving forward. “I hope everything that’s happened won’t keep her away. I think they could be good together.”

“Yes, Cullen is a good man,” Solas said thoughtfully. “She wishes to leave those events behind, and I believe she will be successful. However,” he said, looking down with a smirk, “it is likely advice she seeks from you.” Nassella smiled.

“I did say I would help. Though I admit I’m not exactly an expert on… human courtship.” Solas laughed again.

“Such traditional rituals need not always apply. Certainly Naomi will have her own expectations from her world. Regardless, I believe you will be successful. You have yet to lead your friends astray with your judgements.” Nassella blushed under his praise, and followed a step behind as he climbed the stairs toward the keep. When they reached the turn toward his rotunda, she turned to bid him farewell, but instead found him looking at her with a strange intensity behind his eyes. Rendered speechless, she was grateful when he filled the silence.

“Inquisitor. I was… do you have another moment? To speak alone?”

“Of course,” she breathed, finding her voice.

She led him to her room, knowing privacy would be nearly impossible to find anywhere else. It was as she had left it, and she looked forward to sleeping in her bed that night, only feeling slightly guilty for preferring the cushioned mattress over the hard ground, or piles of fur under an araval’s sail. For the first time in weeks she wondered what her mother or sister would think of her new life. And for once she wondered if she would ever be able to return to her clan, and live as she once had, when this was over.

She followed Solas when he wandered toward the balcony, waiting for him to speak what was on his mind. His eventual question caught her by surprise.

“What were you like before the anchor? Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?” Nassella frowned. It had not crossed her mind, that the anchor would change her, besides the obvious. Yes, she had gained a taste for soft beds, found she could like, even love, humans. But that was not the anchor. That was a result of her changed circumstances, as she adjusted to her new position. And even her confidence in herself and her ability to lead she could not contribute to the anchor. Not for sure.

“If it had, do you really think I’d have noticed? With everything else that has changed?”

“No,” Solas said, a small smile on his lips. “That’s an excellent point.”

“Why do you ask?” Solas turned, looking out to the mountains.

“You show a wisdom I have not seen since… since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.” Nassella smirked. It was not the first time he had said such things, though perhaps never this plainly.

“Sorry to disappoint,” she joked, trying to hide her embarrassment. But Solas was serious.

“It’s not disappointing, its’…” he sighed, looking back to her. “Most people are predictable. But you… you have shown subtlety in your actions, wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… have I misjudged them?” Nassella smiled, remembering all of the times they had discussed her people, and the problems he had with them. He often made good points, but she loved her clan and would not abandon that belief. And she couldn’t deny the satisfaction she felt hearing him admit he might be wrong.

“The Dalish aren’t perfect, I know that. But we hold on to a memory of the ancient ways, and that’s worth honoring.” Solas smiled.

“I suppose that must be it. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.” Nassella blushed, the warmth of his praise washing over her. But she could not help but think he was not entirely correct, as she thought of every one of her friends who had helped her so far, teaching her and guiding her as she maneuvered a world of humans she had known so little about only a year ago. Perhaps she learned quicker than most, was more open to new perspectives, but she could not take all of the credit for what she had accomplished.

But he was looking at her, waiting for her to answer, and she could not ignore the heat in his gaze. Her heart rate increased, and warmth spread from between her legs. She knew what he was saying, but needed to hear the words from his mouth. A mouth she found herself looking to more than his gaze.

“So what does this mean?” she asked hopefully, forcing herself to look at his intense steel eyes.

“It means,” he said, taking a step toward her, “I have not forgotten the kiss.”

Nassella couldn’t breathe, was frozen in place. _Yes,_ she thought, _finally…_

She took a step toward him. “Good,” she said quietly, reaching toward him, toward this man who had captured her attention from nearly the moment she met him, and her heart soon after. She’d never wanted a man like she wanted Solas, and though she was frustrated with his hesitation, would wait far longer if it meant he would finally be hers.

And then he started to turn away.

She grabbed his arm without thinking, pulling him back. “Don’t go,” she said, knowing she sounded desperate. But she couldn’t take his rejection. Not now.

“It would be kinder in the long run,” he said, shaking his head. She tightened her grip on his arm. He looked back and she saw the moment his self-imposed resolve broke. “But losing you would…” he breathed, and before she could blink his lips were on hers, insistent and firm, his tongue seeking entrance before she could wrap her arms around him. She gripped the fabric of his tunic so she could pull herself closer, removing the distance between them. He was so much taller than any man she had been with before, and his wiry strength solid and reassuring wrapped around her. She kissed him back, lips and tongue moving together as she tried to make up for the months she could only dream of the feel of him against her. Her entire body was on fire, and when he pulled away, too soon, she was breathless.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he said with a small smile on his lips, before turning toward her rooms and the stairs. Her mind went blank, and she had to lean against the door to keep herself steady as her lips tingled with the remnants of his kiss.

_I love you._

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi swirled the wine around in her glass, trying not to think about Nassella sitting across the table, expectantly waiting for her to say something. They’d eaten and talked about the events of the last two weeks, but now, Naomi knew she had to bring up the reason for this meal in the first place.

She didn’t know why she was so nervous. She’d told Nassella everything else about herself.

But she’d never admitted, to anyone, when she had a crush. And this was far more than a crush. Saying the words, out loud, would make it real. For days she had taken long rides, walked the walls, sat in the garden, Cullen constantly on her mind. And the future, as she pondered what admitting her feelings to him could lead to. She tried not to get too far ahead of herself, but based on the look he had given her, he wanted their relationship to be… physical. She had the power to keep that from happening, if she simply kept quiet.

But talking to Nassella about Cullen would be the first step toward…

She didn’t even know. But she knew she wanted to find out.

“So,” Nassella said, looking at her with a small smile. “You wanted to talk about something…” Naomi cleared her throat, drained the last of the wine, and set the glass down with a determined clink.

_Be brave._

 “Yes,” she said, “It’s… it’s about Cullen,” she let out in a rush, staring at the empty glass, wishing it would fill with more wine. This would be much easier to talk about if she wasn’t so sober.

“Mmhmm…?” Nassella hummed, and Naomi could not ignore the hint of amusement in that simple sound. She glanced up at the elf, feeling her face heat seeing the smirk still plastered on her face, and felt her carefully prepared explanations scatter.

_Oh for the love of…_

“You already know,” she said, voice hollow. _And I’ve been agonizing over this for days…_  Nassella’s grin grew.

“Know what?” she asked innocently. Naomi glared, though she couldn’t bring herself to be angry.

“That I like Cullen,” she mumbled, staring at the floor.

“I know you more than just _like_ him,” Nassella replied. Despite herself, Naomi could not keep a smile from her face. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” Nassella asked through a laugh. Naomi sighed.

“No.” She looked back to Nassella, feeling her doubt sliding away. Nassella was her best friend. Nothing she said would change that. “It’s just the other day I realized Cullen… likes me too. I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, he does,” Nassella said, laughing once again. Naomi gaped at her.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve suspected for a couple of months now, but I knew for sure after… Well, Naomi, just know he cares about you. A lot.” Naomi was speechless. She’d harbored a tiny shred of doubt about how Cullen felt, despite everything, but Nassella had just dispelled that notion for good. This was real.

And she said she’d suspected for _months_. That meant, this entire time, during every lesson, walk, and chess game, Cullen had… had liked her? _Like… that word seems so inadequate for what this is... But what is it? Not… not love. But it’s not just attraction…_ Attraction. Cullen had been attracted to her for _months_ , and she’d never suspected. Her chest tightened, suddenly overwhelmed with affection toward the Commander. She’d not once found him flirting, making comments, or looking at her body. He’d looked at _her_ , talked _with_ her, _joked_ with her.

He was one of the few men who had ever made her feel that comfortable.

“Naomi?” Nassella asked carefully. “Are you alright?” Naomi nodded slowly.

“Yes… I’m fine.” But she looked at Nassella desperately. “It’s just… I don’t know what to do! I’ve never… never done anything like this!” She closed her eyes to keep tears from spilling out. How could she hope to pursue something with Cullen? What was she thinking?! She was completely inexperienced, in every respect, having never even gone on a date. And she wasn’t even on Earth! What would be expected of her here? Would Cullen still want to be with her when he knew…?

“Naomi,” Nassella said gently, moving around the table and perching on the edge, taking her hand. “It’s alright, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Naomi felt her lip tremble. How could she deserve a friend like Nassella, after everything that had happened?

“But I _do_ want to. That’s the problem! I want to tell him I care about him, and want to be with him, but I keep getting scared! But I shouldn’t be! Finding out a man like Cullen wants… wants _me._ I should be excited and happy and not… not pulling away when he almost kisses me!” Nassella squeezed her hand and Naomi sighed. “I want this, but I shouldn’t be this afraid,” she whispered.

“Naomi,” Nassella murmured. “You have every right to be nervous about this. But you also told me you want to move on. I think Cullen could help you, and… you know he would _never_ hurt you, right?” Naomi took a deep breath. _Yes, she’s right._

“Yes. Of course I know that. That’s why I’m… why I’m talking to you about this and not just trying to ignore it completely.” Nassella smiled.

“Alright, good. So what do you want to do? How can I help?” Naomi rubbed the fabric of her breeches between her fingers, frowning slightly. _I want Cullen. But I’m not ready._

“I want… I want to try. I need to tell him, and see… see what happens. But,” she said, looking up at Nassella hopefully. “Could we talk about it? A lot. I need to get used to the idea that… that he actually wants to be with me.” Nassella let her hand go and reached across the table for the bottle of wine, filling their glasses. She handed Naomi a glass.

“Well, get used to it, because he definitely does. And we can talk all night, if you want, because I want this to work as much as you.” She hopped from the table and Naomi followed her to the fire, settling down on the thick rug. She sipped the wine, considering her friend.

“So, does anyone else know about any of this?” she asked sheepishly, praying the knowledge would stop with the elf. Nassella smirked, taking a sip of her own wine.

“Well, I know Solas does, and Hawke had you two figured out the moment he saw you playing chess.” Naomi blushed, unaware she had been that obvious.

“If Hawke knows, surely everyone else…” Nassella shook her head.

“No, not everyone. You _have_ been subtle, despite your blushing, though… I wouldn’t be surprised if Bull knows. And Leliana likely already knows, and has gossiped with Josephine…” Naomi sighed, taking another drink.

“Great,” she muttered. Nassella smiled.

“You’ll have to get used to other people finding out at some point.” Naomi sighed, knowing the elf was right. But she would not be scared away. She would tell Cullen how she felt, and go with whatever happened, because she was tired of being afraid. In fact, the thought of losing this chance was even more terrifying.

“So!” Nassella said, a large grin on her face, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Tell me about this almost kiss…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from the game property of Bioware.
> 
> Vir’nehn - Joyful path (or close) (Nassella’s hart)


	45. You are My Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! Even if you don't celebrate, I hope you have a fantastic day!
> 
> Now I'm off to stuff my face with green bean casserole...

Naomi couldn’t concentrate. Or rather, she couldn’t concentrate on what she should be concentrating on. Namely, the task of teaching Cullen English. Instead, every neuron in her brain was currently devoted to following his movements, detecting his scent, straining to hear his steady breaths. So attuned was she to his presence that when he spoke, the rich timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“Je lijkt afgeleid, Naomi.” She blinked, looking up from her paper to see Cullen glancing up from the table through his lashes, a small smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth. The corner with the scar. Blushing Naomi sat up straight, looking at the table. But she couldn’t help but smile at the irony. How many times had she asked if he was distracted? And hearing her native language from his lips was one of the best sounds she knew.

And she couldn’t miss the joking tone in his voice, or... the fact that the color of his eyes meant they were that much closer to _actually_ burning into her.

He’d been looking at her like that ever since he’d almost kissed her, three days ago. Just small glances, half of which she suspected were imagined. But some were definitely real.

_God, he’s so handsome. I can’t believe he likes me…_

She didn’t know how she was keeping herself together. She was nearly jumping out of her skin, waiting to see if he would do _something._ Anything. She decided it was because of Nassella, as they had stayed up late into the night talking, until Naomi no longer felt hesitation saying _I care for Cullen. Cullen cares for me. We both care for each other._ The wine had helped. A lot. They’d giggled like teenagers over their crushes, as Nassella revealed her own success with Solas earlier that day. Emboldened by the alcohol, Naomi had asked what it was like, to kiss someone. Nassella had been more than happy to indulge her curiosity, eyes misting over as she dived into her memories, revealing far more than just her history of kissing. Just recalling that conversation was enough to make Naomi blush.

She’d never been able to talk so freely with any of her friends before. It was something she realized she had missed out on, in her fear.

Cullen cleared his throat, and Naomi looked up to see his eyes had moved away, and he was rubbing his neck while staring back at the table. It was a habit she realized she loved. Cullen was a tall, imposing, confident man. Except when he wasn’t. It put her at ease.

“Ja, ik denk dat ik wel een beetje afgeleid ben,” she answered, smiling at him. But he didn’t look up, or say anything, and Naomi suppressed a sigh. She had been repeating the mantra _I want this, I want this, I want this…_ all morning, until, instead of fear, she started to feel… excited. But Cullen had not made another move.

_Why would he? He doesn’t know you want him to._

Naomi chewed the inside of her lip. Every moment that went by without him saying something increased her doubt. She knew Cullen was attracted to her, but that didn’t mean he wanted a relationship. He was incredibly busy, and despite Nassella’s insistence, the elf could be wrong. Maybe he just wanted to kiss her.

The uncertainty was maddening. It consumed her thoughts.

_I need to tell him. It’s the 21 st century for God’s sake… or close enough. I don’t need to wait for him to say something… And I need to know…_

“Can we talk?” she blurted out suddenly, shutting her mouth immediately afterwards, startled by her boldness. Cullen was just as surprised, snapping his head up and looking at her with a slight frown.

“What?” he asked, then shook his head. “I mean, of course.” Then silence, as he waited for her to speak. Naomi stared at him, mind blank.

_Shit. Now what?_

“Naomi?” he asked, concern coloring his voice. She stood, needing to move.

“Yes… um, could we walk?” she asked, adjusting her tunic, suddenly self-conscious. She ran a hand along her hair, wondering if she should have worn it loose, instead of in her normal braid. _Don’t be silly. He’s seen me at my worst, and that didn’t keep him away._ Cullen rose, moving toward the door.

“That would… Yes. Of course,” he said.

They exited his tower, and Naomi tried to organize her now scattered thoughts, knowing she had gone over this sort of scenario multiple times with Nassella the previous night. But her carefully worded confessions were gone. They made it through the next tower over without saying a word, and she realized the distance between them was just enough to be awkward.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck… I can’t do this…_

“...nice day,” she heard Cullen say. She stopped walking and turned toward him, realizing she had missed most of what he had said.

“What?”

“It’s…” Cullen said, then closed his mouth and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. The motion grounded her, reminding her that Cullen could be just as nervous as her. “There was something you wished to discuss.”

Naomi stared at him, standing tall and handsome and golden in the afternoon sun, a slow breeze ruffling the fur wrapped around his shoulders and the hair on his head. Every muscle in her body was tensed, and she felt as if she were balancing on a ledge, feet planted on the safe, solid foundation of isolation she had built for herself. But with one, small step she would leave that behind, repelling into an unknown where no certainties existed, instead having to trust that the rope would not let her fall.

One small step, a few short words. That’s all it would take to leave her past behind. She could step into a future she had decided nearly fifteen years ago could never happen.

So she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, made eye contact, and said…

“Will you go out with me?” Cullen frowned. Shook his head.

“Go where?” Naomi caught her breath, took in Cullen’s confused expression, and lost it.

She covered her face with her hands, laughing into them as she shook her head and turned slowly in a circle, backing herself up until she could lean against the battlements. “Of course!” she said hysterically, shoulders shaking. “The first time I get the courage to tell someone how I feel and he doesn’t even understand!” _Go out? Of course he doesn’t get it, we’re not in middle school here…_ A hand found her shoulder, and when she finally calmed enough to wipe the moisture from her eyes, Cullen had drawn close, gold eyes glinting with amusement.

“Naomi, I’m not sure I understand. Is everything alright?” She smiled, still high from her laughing fit and her nerves gone. She had no reason to be nervous.

“Yes, I’m alright. It’s just… I’ve never done this before.” _And now I’m messing it up completely._

Cullen smirked. “Never done what?” Naomi’s cheeks warmed, and she couldn’t ignore that his hand was still on her shoulder.

“I’m trying to say that… I… care for you, Cullen. And I thought… well I got the impression you did too.” His grip tightened momentarily, and his mouth dropped open. Naomi’s heart pounded in her chest, as she waited for his response.

After an eternity he spoke.

“I… did. I mean, _I do_. Maker…,” he muttered, sliding his hand down her arm so he could take her own in his, sending a shiver through her entire body. She leaned against the wall for stability, watching as his gaze shifted between her and anything else. “And I… I think of you,” he continued, gripping her hand. “And what I might say… in this sort of situation…” She stared, wide eyed, and when he finally looked back, he didn’t look away.

All she could do was lift the corners of her mouth in encouragement, noting the way his eyes flicked to her lips. She couldn’t breathe.

_Oh. Right. He probably wants to kiss again._

He took a small step forward. “It’s just… with everything that happened, I didn’t know… I didn’t think it was possible…” Naomi swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Of course. Cullen was a good man. He _still_ thought he would hurt her, and it was keeping him away.

He was… asking permission?

She’d said he was a good man. But he was so much more than that. He was one of the best men she had ever known.

“Cullen, I’m… I’m here because it’s possible,” she whispered, gripping his hand back. His lips twitched, and suddenly he was looking at her like that day in his office. She clutched the rough stone of the wall behind her with her other hand, but didn’t stop him when he took a step closer, hand running back up her arm to the elbow.

_This is it…_

“So you are…,” he murmured, and she gasped softly when his gloved hand settled gently on her hip. There was very little pressure, but the contact made her heart race. “It seems too much to ask…” He moved even _closer,_ and Naomi stared at his eyes, noticing for the first time the darker gold that ringed his amber irises, flecks of brown radiating from the center. Another hand settled on her hip.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. The pounding of her blood and heart became almost overwhelming, and instead of his eyes, she became acutely aware of the stone against her back, the hands on her hips, holding her in place, the fact that the space between them was rapidly closing and she had nowhere to go…

She turned away just as he said “...but I want to…” feeling his breath on her cheek, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her lips together.

_I still can’t do this._

“Commander!”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He felt Naomi jump beneath his hands at the call, and tightened his grip, a wave of annoyance washing over him, doing nothing to dampen the desire currently searing through his veins. He recognized that voice, and let out a sigh as he silently cursed the man for his bad timing.  

He had been so close. One more second and he would have finally known what her full lips felt like beneath his own, could taste her, breathe in her scent…

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” Cullen took a step back, reluctantly letting Naomi go. She must have noticed the man coming. She’d turned away right before the scout had called out.

_Blast Leliana and her reports. And blast Jim for not realizing I was occupied…_

For days he had agonized over what to do. Things had gone back to normal, or nearly so, since they had talked in his office. But they were also better, as his symptoms had waned slightly, combined with Naomi’s teas. She was hesitant to give him too much, rambling about side-effects and getting addicted to ‘painkillers’, but he felt better than he had in weeks. And knowing she wasn’t angry… it certainly didn’t hurt.

He’d wanted to tell her how he felt, but something always held him back. He was still the Commander, still focused on the Inquisition and his duties. But he knew he wanted more than that. His entire life had been devoted to duty, and now he had a chance to pursue something more. He wanted to tell her, but didn’t know what to say. She had pulled away, even though he had felt… something, that day. And looking back, reevaluating their time together, he saw the signs. Or thought he did.

But he didn’t know, and wouldn’t push. So he said nothing and sated himself with sideways looks and stolen glances. She seemed happy and things were normal.

Then… she’d asked to talk.

And then… she’d said she cared for him. While laughing and smiling.

He hadn’t known what to say, what to do. He’d fumbled over his words, mind momentarily blank after the unexpected and blatant confession of her feelings. But she was standing there, smiling against the battlements, sun making her eyes shine…

Everything was falling into place, but still, he had to know that she was sure. That this was what she wanted.

She didn’t say no.

And then _Jim_ had interrupted.

“What?!” he growled, turning away from the woman in front of him, glaring at the scout. The man wasn’t even looking, his eyes glued to the report in his hand.

“Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay…’” the man rattled, finally looking up. Cullen continued to glare, willing the man to leave. To his credit, Jim seemed to quickly realize he was not wanted, backing away slowly.

“Or… to your office… right…” he stuttered, turning away. Cullen sighed and shook his head. It really wasn’t fair to blame the man like that. He was a good liaison between Leliana and himself, and on any other day he would be pleased with his promptness.

But not that day, because there was a beautiful woman behind him who he had been mere inches away from kissing. A beautiful woman he had wanted to kiss for months.

He turned around with every intention of finishing what had been started.

But he stopped, because Naomi was leaning against the battlements with her eyes closed, one arm wrapped around her stomach, hand gripping her tunic, the other covering her mouth while she took deep, even breaths.

“Naomi,” he said, taking a small step forward, reaching for her, body finally cooling. She opened her eyes, slightly wet with tears, and rubbed them quickly with her hand. “I’m sorry…,” he said, realizing she had turned away to _avoid_ the kiss, not because of the messenger. _How did I misread her so badly?_

She shook her head, brows furrowed in concern. Concern for him. “No, Cullen, no. It’s not you… it’s not you.” She took a deep breath and dropped her arms. “It’s me. I… I thought I would… would be ready for this, that I could move past… what happened. But… I’m not,” she said, voice small and shoulders slumped. Cullen sighed, simultaneously relieved that she wasn’t upset with _him_ , but worried because she _was_ upset. And angry at the man who had hurt her. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed.

“No, Naomi, don’t be,” he said, leaning against the wall next to her. He looked over, but she stared at the ground. “I’m just… To know that you feel the same way is… is far more than I ever expected.” She nodded and took a deep breath, finally glancing toward him with a small smile.

“Me too,” she whispered. Her features twisted slightly with emotion. “You have no idea how… I never thought this could happen… that someone like you would…” She sighed, blinking while she looked at the sky. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before… and I have no idea what to do.” Cullen chuckled.

“Neither have I,” he said, lifting his lips in a smirk. She looked back, her beautiful, bright eyes, crinkled at the corners while she smiled. They stayed like that for a moment, her eyes roaming slowly over his features, until she blushed and looked back to the ground, still smiling.

_Maker, I want her._

But he would wait. She had already faced so many troubles this year. He would not add to them by being overeager.

Still, he wanted to move forward.

“So… what do you want to do?” he asked. Naomi pursed her lips.

“I… don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I just… need more time to get used to… all of this. Knowing you like me, and… want things… And that I do too…” Her cheeks flushed red, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, making Cullen’s heart thump and heat coil in his stomach.

“I understand,” he said softly. They lapsed into silence, as Cullen replayed the last few moments in his mind. “What did you mean by ‘going out’?” he asked. Naomi laughed, covering her face with a hand.

“Sorry about that. It was a silly thing to say. It’s what we would say back home when people were in a relationship. Like, ‘Cullen’s going out with… Naomi’.” She blushed and cleared her throat. “Um… yeah.” Cullen chuckled, not sure how he had managed to find the one woman who was arguably more flustered than he when it came to the opposite sex.

“And do you actually go anywhere?” She shrugged.

“Well, couples go on dates.” He lifted an eyebrow and she continued. “People would go eat at restaurants, or go to movies, usually. Or just any other activities, to get to know each other. To decide if they were compatible.” Cullen grinned.

“Activities like playing chess?” Naomi turned to him with wide eyes, then smiled.

“Yes… like playing chess,” she said, laughing to herself. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“So it seems we have already been on these ‘dates’,” he said.

“Well,” Naomi said, sending him a sideways grin. “Usually it only counts when both people _know_ it’s a date… and that they like each other.”

“We know now.”

“Yes,” she said, “That’s true. But we don’t have to… do the ‘dating’ stuff. We’re not on Earth, and well… you’re so busy, and we already know a lot about each other… It seems a little foolish…”

Cullen frowned, not exactly familiar with how to cultivate a relationship. He knew, in Honnleath, that many marriages were arranged. But even if they weren’t, there was a small pool of potential partners to choose from, and many young people often knew who they would eventually marry, with or without formal arrangements. But he had joined the Templars before he could think seriously about such things, and marriages were not exactly encouraged, never mind romantic relationships. There had been a couple trysts during his teenage years with other recruits, but there had been no expectation of anything beyond physical intimacy, and he had not been the initiator. Alternately the rituals of the nobility of courting and poetry and gifts held little appeal, though he would try, if that was what she wanted. But what Naomi described… just spending time with the person he cared about… it was intriguing, and not unlike what they had been already been doing.

And even though she said it sounded foolish, he could detect the excitement buried in her voice. He could give her this piece of her home.

“Naomi,” he said, pushing away from the wall so he could look at her more fully. “Would you like to go on a date?” She opened her eyes wide in surprise, but a grin spread slowly across her face, the dimple on her cheek standing out sharply in the bright sun.

“Yes. I would.”

 

\----- 

 

Cullen sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling. Not that it mattered, as he intended to climb the ladder for his quarters soon. It was late, and he could not anticipate accomplishing any more work by staying at his desk any longer.

For once, he wasn’t afraid of his dreams, sure they would not haunt him that night. How could they, with a day like the one he had just had?

He leaned over and picked up the bottle Naomi had left on his desk earlier that day. It was filled with a pale green liquid, a note attached to the neck. He tilted the parchment toward his single candle’s light, reading her slightly messy script.

_Cullen,_

_Take four large drinks ONLY if your ~~symptoms~~ symptoms get really bad. Adan says these herbs aren’t addictive, but I want to stay on the safe side, at least until I get a l ~~ittle~~ little more information. Especially since I’ve been ~~work~~ working with Dagna to see if I can make some equipment to distill the active ingredients from the plants down, to make the medicine more concentrated. ~~Then you~~ Then you won’t have to take so much at a time. But that will be a little while yet._

_Anyway, I tweaked a couple of things, so let me know if you ~~notice~~ notice any changes._

_Naomi_

He smiled as he put the bottle back. The note was just like her; rambling and a little scattered, containing more information than he had asked for, but information he appreciated once he had it. She’d crossed out a number of words only to rewrite them more neatly, and he remembered a few weeks ago she had revealed that she hated her handwriting. He had to admit it was strange that her written script was so messy, when she strove for perfection in nearly everything else she did.

He wondered what other small things he would learn about her. Now that… their relationship had moved forward, he realized he could ask, watch her more openly. Yes, he wanted to kiss her, touch her, taste and smell and feel, but he also wanted to know everything he could about her. She was nearly always happy around him, but after everything that had happened, he knew there was more pain than the small glimpses he had seen.

And he could protect her now, try to help her as she mended the wounds she had sustained over the year, even as she provided some relief to him as he broke the chains holding him to the Chantry. He looked at the potion again, but decided against taking a dose. He had a small headache, but it was a dull throb, the kind he had been ignoring for months. He smiled at that potion, his chest tightening. He would do anything for her… and in that glass vial was evidence that maybe she felt the same.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi could not fall asleep that night. All she could think about was Cullen and their conversation. They’d spent more time talking on the walls, but eventually he’d returned to his office, finally admitting that he really should look at that report. But they had made plans to find a time to go riding outside of Skyhold, and Naomi was almost embarrassingly excited.

But she was also embarrassed at her reaction to his advance. She _wanted_ to kiss Cullen. Desperately. But something held her back.

_Don’t try to get around it. I know what the problem is._

Still, Cullen hadn’t pushed. It was why she wasn’t scared away, despite being scared.

_I can still get past this without telling him…_

They would go riding, and keep playing chess, and talk over meals. She would get used to the idea that they could be together. The rest would follow.

Naomi turned to her other side and started humming as she tried to drift to sleep, wandering through nonsense sounds and melodies from home, thinking of Cullen, until she settled on a familiar tune, whispering the lyrics.

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine._  
_You make me happy when skies are gray._  
_You’ll never know dear, how much I love you…_

She stopped. _Love?_ Did she love Cullen?

_Yes._

She didn’t even need to ponder the answer. She knew it was unlikely Cullen loved her. They weren’t _in_ love, after all. But she loved him. She’d loved others before, like James and her parents, Nassella and Dorian, friends from back home like Jessica and Caitlin… But was her love for Cullen different?

She didn’t know.

She’d never been _in_ love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game property of Bioware.
> 
> Lyrics from a popular song, You are my Sunshine, used.
> 
> Je lijkt afgeleid. – You seem distracted.  
> Ja, ik denk dat ik wel een beetje afgeleid ben. – Yes, I suppose I am a little.
> 
> I promise I'll move ahead with other plot-lines soon, but I had to get these chapters done first!


	46. It's a Date

James was passing through the barracks when he heard a whispered conversation that stopped him in his tracks.

“Did you hear what Jim saw on the walls the other day?”

“No…”

“He came across the Commander kissing that pretty stablehand on the walls…”

“No! The one who got tangled up with that Templar?”

“Mmhmm. He said he thought the Commander was going to throw him off the walls after he interrupted…”

James didn’t hear the rest, as he rushed from the building and turned toward the stables. He found Naomi in one of the back stalls, rubbing down a gray horse with a brush.

“Did you kiss Cullen?!” he demanded. She turned quickly, clearly startled.

“What?!” James jumped into the stall.

“They were talking in the barracks that he kissed you!” She flushed red, and shook her head before responding.

“Um… no, he didn’t.”

“Then why would they…?”

“He… he _almost_ did, but then someone walked up…” James frowned.

“So are you two… together?” Naomi shrugged, smirking as she rubbed the horse.

“I guess? I mean, we know we like each other, so… yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” he asked, crossing his arms. Naomi snorted, raising an eyebrow and rolling her eyes.

“Like you’ve ever told me when you started dating someone. I found out you were dating Makenzie after three months! From her roommate!” James opened his mouth, but hesitated a moment before responding. She was right, after all.

“That’s… not the same,” he finally said. Naomi sighed.

“Yes it is.” James turned away, not entirely sure what he had hoped to accomplish by coming here.

“Well… I’d like to know these things,” he grumbled. Naomi looked down, fiddling with the brush she was holding.

“Sorry… it’s just… really new. I didn’t really know what to say….” They lapsed into silence, and Naomi absentmindedly ran the brush over the horse’s coat. “You heard in the barracks?” she finally asked quietly.

“Yes,” James said, realizing this may not be the last time he would hear about his sister’s new relationship from someone other than her. She seemed to have the same thought.

“Oh…” she said, brows pulled together in a frown.

“You ok with this?” She blushed again.

“Yes, of course! I’ve… liked Cullen for some time now…” A grin spread across her face, but James felt his gut twist slightly in a knot, which he found strange, considering he had already suspected her feelings.

“I guess I already knew that,” he said. Naomi looked at him with confusion.

“What?! How?” James smirked, his suspicion that she would not remember that night confirmed.

“You told me, that night you got drunk.” Naomi’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh,” she said, clearly surprised. “I told you?” James nodded, and Naomi turned away, clearly uncomfortable. “That’s _definitely_ the last time I drink that much…” he heard her grumble as she ran the brush forcefully along the horse’s coat. James watched her work, unable to quell the unease currently turning in his gut. He wasn’t sure why he so upset. He _had_ almost revealed to Naomi a few days prior that he thought Cullen might be interested in her. And it wasn’t like he wanted her to be alone forever. But hearing those soldiers talking… and the fact that they were actually _in_ a relationship… all he could think about was what this man likely wanted to do with his sister.

“Are you _sure_ you’re ok?” he asked again. Naomi sighed, turning toward him fully.

“Yes, James!” she said, crossing her arms, mirroring his own posture. “I’ve thought about this a lot!” She narrowed her eyes. “Are _you_ going to be ok? I thought you liked Cullen?” James ground his teeth together, staring at the floor. It wasn’t that he disliked the Commander.

“I do… I just don’t know anything about him.”

“Oh,” Naomi said. “Well you could get to know him…” James nodded, glancing back to Naomi, looking at the scar on her cheek. It was true; he could get to know Cullen. But would that be enough? He’d thought he’d known Alec, but that had not kept the man from hurting his sister.

“I guess. It’s just… I want to make sure he doesn’t… if he hurts you…” Naomi visibly swallowed and brought a hand to the scar on her face. Her voice was thick with emotion when she spoke.

“James… he won’t. Believe me… I’m… I’m _happy_ with this. I promise.” He didn’t respond. “You have to trust me on this James.” James sighed, dropping his arms. Of course he trusted Naomi and her judgement. She was one of the most reasonable people that he knew. And he remembered the rest of their conversation from that night when she got drunk, when she revealed her insecurities and sadness that Cullen had turned her away. He’d always looked up to Naomi and her confidence, the way she wasn’t afraid to move away from home, go to grad school, travel abroad… but now he realized… she was always alone in those endeavors. And perhaps not because she wanted to be.

And now, maybe, she wouldn’t be anymore.

“Alright,” he conceded. Naomi smiled, turning back to her work.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” she asked.

“Um… yes,” he said sheepishly. Naomi laughed.

“Alright… So how are things with you?” James shrugged, though she couldn’t see as her back was turned.

“Fine.” Naomi glanced over her shoulder.

“I thought we were past these short answers.” He shrugged again. “Are you still seeing Mayra?”

“What?”

“Mayra? If you’re going to ask about me and Cullen, I think I can ask about you and Mayra.” James flushed.

“I haven’t… seen her in a few days.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” James said, shaking his head. “Things have been… a little weird,” he said, intentionally vague, wishing she would change the subject. Thankfully, Naomi’s tolerance for talking about their relationships also ran thin.

“Well… as long as you’re alright, it will work out.” James frowned. _Will it work out?_  He found himself wanting... something. It wasn’t just physical intimacy he missed. He missed the emotional support Makenzie had given him, the encouragement and love she provided when he received none from his parents.

But as he watched Naomi work, James knew things had changed. They had been close while growing up, but had grown apart once they reached their teenage years, primarily because he had focused on spending time with his friends over his sister. But here, _she_ supported him, encouraged him, loved him...

Still, there were some things Naomi couldn’t give him, and it would never be the same as when he was with Makenzie. He had been ready to start a life with her, to _spend_ the rest of his life with her. Naomi would always be around, unless she… He shook his head. _No, I won’t think like that._ But if she was starting a relationship with Cullen… Where would it lead? Naomi didn’t have many friends, and those she did have she tended to keep. If she was really sure about Cullen, then James knew there was a chance they could be together for… a long time. And there was no guarantee he would always be around his sister, and in this world with slow communication and even slower travel, staying in touch would be difficult.

No. He wanted what he had had with Makenzie, but he didn’t know where he would find it again. Mayra was fun, but he couldn’t see her providing the support he sought.

_Nassella could._

James set his jaw. He could not, _would not_ , think of that. He knew she would never return his feelings, and he would torture himself if he kept thinking there was a chance. She had chosen Solas. That was clear. He would just have to accept that, for now, he would be alone.

“James?” Naomi asked, concerned.

“I guess,” was all he could say in response.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen glanced over the letter from Varric, originally addressed to Josephine, trying to decide if there was any way he could help the dwarf as he tried to find the person plagiarizing his work. There was a magistrate in Kirkwall who seemed to be connected. Cullen knew someone in the Kirkwall guard, and wondered if he would be willing to look into the matter…

“So… Cullen…” He looked up, finding Leliana giving him a small smile from underneath her hood.

“Yes?”

“I heard an interesting rumor…”

“I am not interested in gossip,” he said, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut at the way the spymaster’s eyes were glinting. Then she laughed.

“I suspect you will be in this gossip,” she said lightly. Cullen suppressed a groan.

“What is it then?”

“I overheard Jim saying he saw you on the battlements…” Cullen actually groaned, rubbing his temple.

“Maker’s breath! If I see that man again…”

“So it’s true?!” Josephine interrupted. Cullen chanced a look, finding the ambassador beaming. “You finally told Naomi how you feel?” Leliana laughed again.

“He did more than that Josephine, if what Jim says is true…”

“No!” Cullen said, more loudly than he intended. “I… I mean _yes_ , except, well, she told me…” He rubbed his neck, wishing the Inquisitor would arrive so they could begin their meeting. And the sooner they started their meeting, the sooner they would finish, and the sooner he could join Naomi on their ‘date’. She insisted it was not a big thing, that they were just going on a ride, but he didn’t know what to expect. What _she_ expected of him. Once they left Skyhold, it would be the first time they had truly been alone together, with no fear they would be interrupted.

“Don’t look so nervous, Commander, we are just teasing,” Leliana laughed from his right.

“And we are very happy for you,” Josephine continued from the left. “You two have been dancing around each other for months.” Cullen flushed.

“I wouldn’t say…”

“Please Commander,” Leliana interrupted. “Walks along the walls, chess games, and you always get this look of eager anticipation when she translates at our meetings…” A door opened, and Cullen thanked the Maker it was the Inquisitor arriving, distracting the spymaster. He knew he had been interested in Naomi for months, but he hadn’t realized that perhaps he had let that interest show. Though he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Leliana was their spymaster for a reason.

But the woman, and Josephine, would likely be insufferable now.

“What did I miss?” Nassella asked, smiling at each of them in turn. Josephine giggled.

“We were discussing our Commander’s love life.” Cullen flushed at the mention of love.

“That’s not…”

“Oh Cullen, don’t be shy. It’s about time…”

“Maker’s breath, not you too!”

“She’s my good friend Commander, of course we’ve talked about this,” the elf said, a mischievous glint in her eye. Cullen groaned.

“Don’t think you will get away unscathed, Inquisitor,” Leliana said. “It has not gone unnoticed you are spending a large amount of time in the rotunda with a certain apostate…” Cullen felt a small sense of satisfaction when the Inquisitor blushed, fidgeting slightly on her feet. He didn’t like being the only uncomfortable one in the room.

“Well… yes, if you must know…”

“Come Inquisitor, don’t be shy,” Cullen said, smirking at the elf. She narrowed her eyes, but smiled good-naturedly. “Come,” he said, finding the opportunity to change the subject, “We have work to do…”

“Of course,” Leliana said, filling the Inquisitor in on the situation with Varric.

When matters were settled for the day, Cullen excused himself, ignoring the knowing glances and smirks when he said he would be unavailable for the next couple of hours. He was a little unsure about spending so much time away from work, but as he descended the stairs to the lower courtyard, he saw Naomi standing by the gate, holding the reins of Liberty and his own horse, Obsidian, in her hand, and his doubts disappeared. Plans on assaulting Adamant were going smoothly, and they had spent very little time together over the last couple of days. He was looking forward to this outing.

She was turned toward him, but didn’t see his approach as she talked to Cole, the spirit rocking slightly on his feet, her leaning her weight on one leg and hip cocked. She was wearing riding breeches, the tight leather accentuating the long lines of her legs, the subtle contour of her hips and a hint of the more pronounced curves around her back. Her tunic was loose, but he could almost imagine the slight dip of her waist and the swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric. He found her face, still focused on Cole, and he could already tell from this distance she had been working outdoors recently, as a warm tan graced her features, and he knew her freckles would be pronounced, once he was close enough to see them. She smiled fondly at the spirit, and he wished she would look toward him. But he knew he didn’t need to worry about missing her smile. It was never far away.

He was perhaps twenty paces away when Naomi’s expression changed, a red flush spreading across her cheeks and her eyes growing wide. The smile disappeared and she turned her head quickly, eyes landing on him immediately. She froze, and Cullen rushed forward, wondering what could be wrong…

“Golden and solid, gaze like molten amber. More beautiful than anything she’s ever seen. _How could he want me…?”_

“Cole!” she exclaimed, tearing her gaze away to address the spirit. “Please don’t!” Cole rubbed his nose.

“But he _does._ He thinks you’re beautiful too.” Now it was Cullen’s turn to freeze and blush, and he watched Naomi’s face turn a shade darker. He supposed it was nothing she couldn’t have guessed on her own, but he had imagined telling her she was beautiful… himself. Not through a spirit.

Naomi rubbed a hand over her face. “Cole…” she said, voice exasperated. The boy sighed.

“I know, I’m not helping,” he said sadly. Naomi grabbed his shoulder.

“No, it’s not that… you help me all the time Cole. It’s just… we’re going to try and… talk about these things ourselves. Ok?” Cole nodded.

“Alright.” And then he was gone. Cullen blinked, still a little uneasy with the presence of the spirit in Skyhold. Still, he really couldn’t complain, as the boy had shown no aggression toward anyone in the Inquisition in the months he had been around, and the Inquisitor enjoyed having him in the field. And he supposed he couldn’t be that bad, if Naomi liked him.

“Sorry about that,” she said quietly, fiddling with the cuff of her shirt. “He usually doesn’t blurt stuff like that out anymore.” Cullen lifted the corners of his mouth.

“It’s alright.” Naomi smiled, glancing up at him shyly. She cleared her throat, handing him the reins to Obsidian.

“So… ready?”

“Of course.” Naomi’s smile grew, and then she turned her gaze to look past him, eyes growing wide.

“Good… because we need to go, right now,” she said, turning to walk toward the gate.

“Why the rush?” Cullen asked, following behind.

“Dorian and Bull,” she said simply, glancing over her shoulder. Cullen stopped and looked back himself, slightly dismayed to see the Tevinter mage and the Qunari warrior descending the stairs, eyes set on them. Without thinking he hauled himself into the saddle, urging the horse to a trot. He heard Naomi laugh as he passed her, and smiled at the sound. Once through the gate and on the bridge he slowed, allowing Naomi to catch up.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were afraid,” she laughed. Cullen grimaced.

“I heard enough from Leliana and Josephine this morning… I can only imagine what Dorian and Bull have to say.”

“Was it really that bad?” Cullen looked at Naomi, but she was _still_ smiling.

“No… I just wish these things could remain more… private.”

“I know what you mean. James was saying yesterday he heard talk about us in the barracks.” He saw her frown. “I didn’t really think about how you being the Commander might make this… public.”

“Does it bother you?” She looked at him in surprise, shaking her head.

“No… not really. It will just take some getting used to. And I’m sure things will quiet, after a while.”

They had reached the end of the bridge, and after passing through the gatehouse, Naomi pulled to a stop.

“So, I found a cool place up that way,” she said, pointing up the valley. “I thought we could go there, then stop and eat… and talk…” She blushed, dropping her hand, focusing on rubbing Liberty’s neck.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” Naomi said, looking back with eyes wide. She shrugged. “I’m just… making most of this up.” Cullen smiled.

“As am I.” She laughed, smiled back.

“Then I guess I really shouldn’t be this nervous.” She urged Liberty to a trot, but Cullen waited a moment to follow, unsure if her being nervous was a good, or a bad, thing. _I want her to be comfortable… but will that ever happen?_

“Cullen! You coming?!”

The trail was narrow, so he had to follow a pace or two behind Naomi and Liberty. The view was stunning, the mountains still capped with winter’s snow, though a flush of green spread from the shores of the milky waters rushing down the valley. He’d walked the walls countless times, taking in the soaring mountains, felt the cool wind on his face and through his hair. But there was something about being on horseback, with the gray stones of the mountains rising at his side, instead of the stone walls of Skyhold, that he found incredibly comforting. He realized he hadn’t been outside of Skyhold’s walls in months, except for a few short excursions to the camp sprawling around the lake at the foot of the valley. It reminded him of his childhood, though Honnleath was all hills and trees and grass, in contrast to the stone and snow and sky of the Frostbacks. But it was open and free, with nothing to concern him but guiding his horse along the path, breathing the fresh air, and following the woman in front of him.

And that view was nearly as stunning as the mountains.

They crested a final ridge, and Cullen had to pull Obsidian to a stop, gaze torn from Naomi’s backside to the view of the glacier. _How did I not realize this was here?_ When he finally looked away, Naomi was smiling back at him, and he realized his mouth had dropped open.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. He nodded, and didn’t look away from her when he replied.

“Yes, it is.”

They moved closer, the path growing wider as they approached the ice’s leading edge. Cullen guided his horse next to Naomi’s, and she slowed Liberty to a walk.

“So how was the meeting this morning, other than getting grief from Leliana and Josephine?”

“And the Inquisitor,” he added. Naomi laughed.

“I suppose that may partially be my fault.”

“It was actually very productive. Josephine received word that a noble in Orlais will lend their siege equipment to our cause. We intend to march for the Approach within the month.” She nodded, brows pulled slightly together.

“Wow… so soon?”

“We must move quickly, if we are to stop the Wardens.”

“Yes, yes of course. It’s just… one more thing I’ll need to get used to, I guess. First James going off, and now you…” She shrugged. “It’s not like home, that’s all. But nothing really is. And you’re trying to save the world! Of course you’ll need to leave.” They continued in silence, and Cullen wished there was something he could say to ease the worry she clearly felt. But there was no getting around it. He was the Commander, and that meant leading the Inquisition’s army when it was called for. She didn’t say it, but it meant he would be in danger. He might not come back.

They reached a small lake and Naomi dismounted, leading Liberty to the water and tying the mare to a rock. Cullen did the same with Obsidian, and when he was finished, found Naomi had pulled a small bundle from her saddle, and a canteen.

“Hungry?” Cullen smirked.

“Always.”

They settled on a flat rock by the water. Naomi opened the bundle and spread the cloth between them, so they could pick at the cheese, bread, dried meat, and fruit she had brought along as they wanted. Cullen grabbed a small loaf of bread, tearing off a large bite.

“So we just eat? Talk?” Naomi nodded, fiddling with a wedge of cheese.

“Basically. This isn’t… anything formal.” She took a bite, looking up at the glacier. “It’s a little different though... we’ve already talked so much.”

“True,” Cullen said. “But mostly about what your world was like. And what mine is like.” Naomi pursed her lips, then smirked.

“What’s your favorite food?” Cullen shook his head.

“What?”

“Your favorite food. I don’t know what your favorite food is.” Cullen chuckled.

“Is this really what people would ask on dates?” Naomi laughed.

“Well… I’m sure some people did.” Cullen held up the loaf in his hand.

“Fresh baked bread.” He looked to her with a smirk. “And you?”

“Fajitas.”

“Fa… Fajitas?”

“Strips of chicken, and onions, and peppers… with spices…” She smirked, eyes losing focus as she thought of the memory. “You don’t have anything like it here.” Cullen clenched the bread in his hand, his throat suddenly tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Naomi frowned.

“Why?”

“Because you can’t have those things anymore… and there’s no reason it should have been you…” Naomi turned toward him.

“Cullen… it’s alright. I’m getting used to being here. And Corypheus messed more than just _my_ life up. It’s not like Nassella asked for the Anchor, or all the people that died….”

“Yes, but…”

“I’m _fine_ Cullen… really.” He frowned, but didn’t push. “So… what were you like as a kid?” she asked.

“Rather serious, I’m afraid.” Naomi took a long drink from the canteen.

“How so?”

“I was recruited to the Templar’s at thirteen, but I had decided by the time I was eight it was what I wanted to do. And I was… very focused on that dream.” Naomi shook her head.

“I can’t imagine knowing what I wanted to do as an adult that young. And to actually start on that path at thirteen… That’s how old David was.” Cullen sighed.

“Most start far younger. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like, had I chosen a different path.”

“Do you regret it?” Cullen bit into an apple, rotating the fruit between his fingers as he chewed and considered Naomi’s question. It was true terrible things had happened while he was a Templar, but staying in Honnleath would not have ensured a life free of hardship. The Blight had ruined any chance of that, and he felt a stab of sadness knowing his parents had died while trying to flee to safety. Now, he was using what he had learned to finally, truly help people. Training as a Templar had at least given him that. Finally, it meant he had been here, to meet Naomi. A woman, he realized, whose worst moments in life he had been witness to. She deserved to know his, and decide if his demons were worth the trouble.

“No, I don’t. But… I’ve never said what happened to Ferelden’s Circle. Why I was transferred.”

“Cullen you don’t have…”

“I want to,” he said, looking at her earnestly. She nodded and, after a moment of hesitation, wrapped up the food and moved into its place. She turned up the corners of her lips.

“Alright.”

“Ferelden’s Circle… it was taken over by abominations,” he began. “The Templars, my friends, were slaughtered. I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I… how can you be the same person after that?!” He said, suddenly flooded with adrenaline, remembering those days he was trapped, unsure if the next breath he took would be his last…

He felt a pressure on his hand, and realized Naomi had taken it in her own. She squeezed it again.

“Cullen…” she whispered. But he continued.

“Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I trusted my knight-commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can you see why I want nothing to do with that life?!” He turned to her, realizing he had been ranting. She gripped his hand, blue-green eyes boring into his, filled with concern. Her freckles just as pronounced as he had suspected.

“Of course I can Cullen. And you _don’t_ have to be part of that life. You _won’t_ be, not if you don’t want to be. I’ll make sure of it.” Cullen still couldn’t believe it. After everything that had happened… that she would focus on him and his pain.

“Naomi, I know you want to help, but if it becomes too much…” She shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“It won’t, Cullen, I promise. You’re not…” she looked away and took a deep breath. “You’re not doing this alone anymore, ok?” Cullen caught his breath.

_I’m not alone._

Of course he wasn’t. He should have realized sooner. But, he also realized, he was likely ruining their date with his seriousness.

“Forgive me… I did not come here intending to discuss such matters.” Her gaze returned.

“That’s alright. I think… it’s good to talk about these things. We’ve only really talked about happy memories… but there’s more than that.”

“Still. What of you? What was your childhood like?” Her brows pulled slightly together.

“I… I was quiet, and I read a lot. I was a little odd, honestly, preferring school over a lot of other things…” she sighed, looking toward the glacier, and he felt her thumb rubbing circles through the leather of this glove, and he wished he had removed the garments for this outing. “But it was _good._ Actually, my entire life was good…” She paused, and the rubbing stopped. But it soon returned. “My family loved me, I had friends, a good home…” She looked back. “I was very fortunate.” _Fortune that ran out._

“Are you happy Naomi?” She shook her head, confused.

“Yes! Of course…” He gripped her hand.

“Truly?” She frowned, looking at her lap, brows moving in thought.

“I... I’m not _unhappy_.”

“How can I help?” She grinned, sending him a sideways glance.

“You already are… just being here,” she said softly and he blushed.

“Surely there is more.” She shook her head.

“I don’t… I don’t think so.” He waited, knowing there was more. “I’m just… worried, all of the time!” she finally said. “I’m afraid for James, and my friends, and now you. But I can’t change what you do, and I don’t want you to change. But… I’m also afraid for _myself_ , and what I’ll do… what I’d do without the Inquisition.” She looked at him, face twisted with what he knew was fear. “I’ve only ever known the Inquisition! Only been in Haven and Skyhold! But I know things here aren’t like other places… I’ve never had to worry about being fed or where I would sleep! I’ve hardly handled money! I’ve been sheltered, and… and I’m terrified of losing that! I’m terrified of what I’ll find when I’m alone.” She covered her face with a hand, on the verge of tears.

 _But you won’t be alone,_ Cullen thought, _I’ll be there._

But he didn’t say that. He wouldn’t presume that was what she wanted. And he realized, with a touch of sadness, that he couldn’t promise he would survive this war. Or his withdrawal.

Instead, he stood, pulling her into an embrace, wishing he had thought to remove his armor before they left Skyhold, so he could hold her more closely. But he was content with inhaling the smoke and hay scent of her hair. After a heartbeat of hesitation, she took a small step forward, arms wrapping around his back.

“I’ll find a way to help,” he said.

So, three days later, when the Inquisitor announced she would be making a short trip to the Hinterlands with Dorian, he suggested she take Naomi along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game property of Bioware.


	47. I Don't Want to Talk About This

“So… you have everything you need?”

“Yes James!”

“… You sure?”

“Yes! Jeez, is this what I sound like every time you go somewhere?”

“Yes.”

Naomi sighed, checking the strap to Liberty’s saddle one last time. “Well, now I know why you always get so annoyed.” She grinned at her brother. “It’s annoying.”

“At least you didn’t have to hear it from Mom and Dad all the time.”

“That’s because _I’m_ responsible.”

“I’m responsible..!” Naomi laughed, rolling her eyes.

“I was just teasing. I know you are.” She turned toward James more fully, smiling at her brother as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “I mostly just ask to make myself feel better.”

“Well that’s what I’m doing too. I’m worried about you… and I wish I was going along.”

“It will be f _ine_ James. And you’ve been travelling for months, you deserve a break. Besides, we’re just going to Redcliffe to meet this messenger Dorian’s father sent.” James frowned.

“You don’t know what you’ll meet on the road. Naomi, you don’t know what it’s like out there…”

“Exactly!” She said, crossing her own arms, irritated with his pestering. “I _don’t_ know what it’s like out there. But I’ll have to leave Skyhold eventually, and I’d like to have a better idea of how to act… like I belong here! And before you say it’s dangerous, I realize that! But the Hinterlands have been stable for months now. It’s about as safe as it’s going to get right now. And it’s not like I’m going alone.” James glanced over his shoulder, toward the rest of the group as they double-checked their own mounts. Nassella was feeding one last carrot to Vir’nehn while Dorian, Cassandra, and Sera all secured final bundles to their horse’s saddles. And though they were not joining them, Solas and Cole hovered by Nassella, talking quietly to each other.

“Yeah, I know,” James mumbled. He glanced over her shoulder and lifted his chin slightly. “Hey Cullen.”

“Good morning James.” Naomi turned with a smile, heart fluttering in her chest. Cullen, just as handsome as always, was just a few paces away, corner of his beautiful mouth upturned in a smirk.

_Will there ever be a time my heart doesn’t race at the sight of him?_

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” he continued, soft gaze roaming over her features, causing her face to heat.

“It’s alright,” James said, and Naomi turned, reluctantly, back to her brother. “I need to say goodbye to Ness anyway.” He pushed off from the wall and stepped toward her, arms spread. Naomi moved to intercept his embrace, burying her face in his tunic.

“Just be careful,” he cautioned. Naomi pulled away, trying to give him an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m always careful.”

She turned back to Cullen after her brother was gone, shaking her head.

“Is something wrong?” She sighed, but smiled.

“No… it’s just James was never this serious back home, and he certainly never said he was worried about me.” She shrugged. “I guess he’s just grown up since we got here…”

“It’s because he loves you,” Cullen said. “And,” he continued, taking a step forward, “I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was a little worried myself.”

Naomi suppressed a sigh, trying not to get annoyed. She knew that Cullen, and James, just cared, but she couldn’t help but think they thought she was helpless, and it bothered her. She knew Thedas was dangerous, and that there were some things she would never feel comfortable doing alone, but she refused to hide behind walls the rest of her life.

And they all seemed to keep forgetting that she wouldn’t be without protection.

“Cullen, do you trust that those four people over there can take of anything we’re likely to meet on this trip?” Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, of course.”

“And,” she said, tapping the exposed skin on her hand, “fade-touched. Remember?” Cullen frowned.

“Yes, but that may not be enough. You were still injured when Haven was attacked… Naomi, you nearly _died_.” He stepped forward again and brought a hand to her elbow. Naomi felt her throat constrict at the pain in his voice, and at the memory of that night.

“I… I didn’t realize you had noticed.” His grip tightened, and a shadow crossed over his face.

“Of course I noticed,” he said. “I carried you into the Chantry myself.” Naomi felt her face flush, and she had to look away. How many times would she have to find out Cullen had needed to save her from injury? How helpless must he think her?

“This was your idea,” she reminded him.

“Yes… but now that you’re actually leaving…” Naomi shook her head.

“I can’t stay here forever Cullen. You must know that.”

“I… yes, but…” Her annoyance flared.

“Cullen, I’m excited about this!” she said angrily. “Back home I lived by myself, I _travelled_ by myself! I don’t want to give that up. That’s why I’m glad you suggested I go on this trip. Because I don’t… want to be helpless forever!” She turned away, finding a loose rope on the saddle to distract her hands. She had barely begun to adjust the knot when Cullen’s hands found hers, stilling her work. She blinked away a few tears, staring at Liberty’s side. _And all I ever do is cry._

“I know you’re not helpless, Naomi,” he said softly. She sighed, finally looking at him over her shoulder.

“Then please, don’t worry about me.” Cullen dropped his hands.

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, returning to her work. Someone called from the other end of the stable, and she looked to see the others were leading their mounts outside. And despite all of her declarations that she would be fine, she suddenly felt her stomach flip nervously. _This is really happening…_

She jumped when Cullen’s hand found her shoulder, and looked back to find he had drawn close, head slightly inclined as he sought her gaze.

“I will miss you,” he said quietly, voice pitched low, sending a shiver from her core to her fingertips.

And she was back on that ledge, Cullen begging her to trust him and take that step, hooded gaze flicking to her lips and back to her eyes. She knew exactly what he wanted, and wished she could give it to him.

But she hugged him instead, keeping her face turned away from his as she drew close, unable to ignore the small sigh that escaped his lips, or the tightening in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her arms wrapped around his neck. She pulled herself as close as she dared, adjusting to the feel of his arms around her back and loving the smell of leather and smoke clinging to his cloak, but thankful for the plate armor that provided one final wall between their bodies.

“It’s alright,” he murmured back. She shivered again, and swallowed to hold back tears, the pressure around her heart increasing.

“I’ll miss you too,” she said, pulling away and turning to Liberty, taking her horse’s reins. She followed everyone from the stable, Cullen walking at her side.

She couldn’t look at him.

He said it was alright, but for how long? How long would he wait for her to overcome her fear? Because, Naomi realized, she may have taken a step forward when she admitted her feelings, but she was still clinging to the rim of that ledge with all of her might, afraid to let herself really fall.

They were the last to arrive at the gates, everyone else already mounted and ready to go. Naomi quickly pulled herself onto Liberty’s back, giving Cullen a final close-mouthed smile.

“Be safe,” he said, brow slightly furrowed as he backed away to avoid Liberty as she began to prance in anticipation. Naomi nodded, her throat constricting. She may love to travel, but saying goodbye was never easy.

“I will.” Then she looked to the crowd, seeking James’ dark head of hair. She found him next to Bull, arms crossed and stance wide, and she could tell even from this distance that he was tense. Their eyes met and she waved, smiling to let him know she was alright. But he just raised a hand in farewell, concern still clearly marking his features. Naomi sighed, but directed Liberty toward the gates, urging her to catch up with the others. Lingering would make nothing easier.

She was hit with a blast of cool wind once she passed beneath the gate. Her stomach twisted in anticipation, and she tried to put her small argument with Cullen, and her inability to kiss him, behind her. She gripped the reins as Liberty’s hooves pounded across the stone bridge, relishing the feel of the powerful animal beneath her legs, Liberty’s gait indicating the horse was just as excited as she felt. She leaned forward, rubbing the all-bred’s neck.

“We’re finally going to see this world!” she called over the wind. Liberty just galloped faster.

\-----

Naomi surveyed her work, noting that the tent was leaning ever so slightly to the left, not quite able to replicate the first attempt she had put up with Cassandra. Still, she decided it would hold, and there was always the next night to do better.

They were somewhere in Ferelden, in the foothills of the Frostbacks after spending the entire day descending from the heights of Skyhold. Naomi glanced back to the mountains, admiring the golds and oranges shining off of the clouds as the sun fell behind the peaks, everything just as beautiful as she imagined it would be.

“It’s a lovely tent.” Naomi turned and smiled at Dorian, the mage standing with arms crossed as he looked over the tent with a small grimace. “I wish I could say the same thing about sleeping in them.” Naomi grinned.

“I love camping. My family would go almost every year.”

“Are you saying that you, in your world with ‘cars’ and ‘television’ and indoor electricity, would _choose_ to live in tents?” Dorian asked, incredulous. Naomi shrugged.

“Yes. For a few days.”

“Unbelievable,” the mage muttered. He grinned, turning to her with an eyebrow raised. “I couldn’t help but notice that it took you… a rather long time to say goodbye to the Commander this morning.” Naomi blushed at the suggestive tone in his voice.

“Um… I suppose.”

“So how was it?” She cleared her throat.

“Fine…” Dorian chuckled.

“He won’t see you for nearly a week. Surely it was more than _fine_ ,” he said, moustache twitching as he smirked. Her face burned more, and she bit the inside of her cheek. She thought things were going well with Cullen, but this wasn’t the first time she had gotten the sense he wanted to kiss her. But every time she turned away, and the fear he would give up on her grew, right next to the fear that kept her from giving him more of herself in the first place.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said, voice short.

“Oh come now,” the mage pouted. “Are you telling me I have to get all my gossip secondhand, through the soldiers and stablehands? Surely you can at least mention whether your strapping young Templar is as good at kissing as I suspect…”

“Dorian!” Nassella called as she approached from the fire where she had been working on the night’s meal. “That’s private! Don’t pester her so much.”

“You’re no fun at all,” he teased, and turned back to Naomi. “My apologies, but I am _still_ a little miffed you managed to keep your affections hidden all of these months. And if I must say, I find the whole arrangement rather adorable, so forgive me if I’m curious about a few details…” Naomi sighed, knowing Dorian meant no harm with his questions, even if they hurt.

“There really _isn’t_ anything to tell,” she said quietly. “We… haven’t kissed.”

“Truly?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“I don’t really want to talk about this Dorian.” He frowned, and for once didn’t push for more details.

“Alright…”

“Dorian, could you check on the food for me?” Nassella asked, placing a hand gently on his arm. The mage nodded, leaving Naomi alone with the elf. Naomi glared at the tent, thinking of Cullen and whishing she wasn’t such a coward, that she could act like a normal woman. Because all she really had been in that moment was afraid. Afraid of opening up to a wonderful man…

“Naomi?” She jumped and looked up, Nassella right by her side. “Is everything alright?” Naomi frowned and shook her head.

“Something’s wrong with me Ness. I _want_ to kiss Cullen, but something just… holds me back every time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Naomi.”

“But I told myself I wouldn’t be afraid, that I would move past… everything…”

“Of course, and you’re working on it. But those sorts of things… don’t just go away.” Naomi looked back at the mountains, toward Skyhold. Of course it was foolish to think that a few words would suddenly change everything that had happened, and the years of fears and habits she had cultivated. But she could dream. “Have you told him?” Naomi grimaced.

“No.”

“Why not?” Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.”

“Naomi… you should tell him. I think that will help…” But the thought filled Naomi with panic.

“But what if it doesn’t?” she asked, tears in her eyes when she turned back to the elf. “I’m not _normal_ because of it. I’m afraid to _kiss_ him, Ness. Just imagine how I feel about everything else _._ What if he doesn’t want to deal with that?”

“Naomi,” Nassella said, grabbing her shoulder, brows pulled together. “You are perfectly normal. What happened to you was not your fault. Don’t feel like the way you approach relationships is wrong because of it.”

“But…”

“And,” Nassella interrupted. “I’m sure Cullen wants to kiss you, but it is certainly not the only reason he cares for you.” She shook her head. “No, he would understand, Naomi. You know he would.” Naomi stared into Nassella’s wide green eyes, and knew she was right. Never, until that day in his office, had Cullen made her feel he wanted something she wasn’t willing to give. It was one of the things she liked so much about him.

“I know,” she whispered, shoulders slumping. Nassella squeezed her shoulder.

“You want to be with him like this, right? Not just as friends?” Naomi nodded.

“And you know he wants that as well. Tell him, Naomi. He would want to help you, but he can’t do that if he doesn’t know.” Naomi nodded again, wiping her eyes. Of course she had to tell him. She… loved him, trusted him, and she wanted to be honest. He had opened himself up, and deserved the same from her.

“I’ll try.” She looked at Nassella. “And I’m sorry I keep dragging you into this.” Nassella chuckled.

“Naomi, the only thing I’ve ever been dragged into was waking up with the Anchor on my hand… and being the ‘Herald of Andraste’… and I guess, being made Inquisitor…” She frowned. “I guess I’ve been dragged into a lot of things.” She smiled. “But helping you has always been my choice.” Naomi’s throat constricted, and she hugged the elf before she could think to stop. Nassella gasped, but returned the embrace.

“Quizzy! Naomi! Come eat, yeah?!”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You’re saying it took you twenty-four years to get a job?”

“I wasn’t the only one like that. It was hard for people to find jobs back home. Besides, I was in school for most of that…”

“See, under the Qun, we don’t have that problem. Everyone’ given a job, knows what they’re supposed to do.” James shook his head, taking a drink.

“So people are just told what they’re going to do when they’re kids? What if they don’t like it?” Bull shrugged.

“That doesn’t really happen. People are usually given jobs they’re good at.”

“You can’t possibly know that. Kids change what they want to be all the time.”

“It’s not about what the individual wants, it’s about what’s best for everybody. I’d say it was preferable to your system.” James laughed.

“No. There’s no way that would be better.”

“Well, we have a bunch of young, able-bodied people sitting around doing nothing.” James felt his face heat, the Qunari’s words too close to those uttered by his mother.

“What about freedom?” he demanded, leaning over the table. “What about people getting the chance to choose what they want for themselves?” Bull chuckled, taking a long drink. When he was finished he grinned.

“You’re starting to sound like Solas,” he said. “But with fewer big words.” James sat back and crossed his arms.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re straightforward. You don’t dance around what you mean like Solas, that’s all.” He lifted up his glass. “I’m going to get some more. Want anything?” James shook his head.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

With the Qunari gone, James thought about his comment. He didn’t particularly like being compared to the elven mage, even if it was just a similarity in beliefs. And though he didn’t particularly like the implication he was less intelligent than Solas, he had to admit that he would prefer being called straightforward to cryptic any day.

He heard a large group settle around the table behind him, his chair bumped a couple of times as they tried to accommodate themselves in the crowded tavern, and they were so close it was as if he were part of their conversation.

“Maker, I don’t care how good the pay is, this place needs a brothel. I haven’t had a good lay in weeks,” one man complained, accompanied by sounds of assent from the others.

“Quit complaining, there’s plenty of women in Skyhold.”

“Well you’re one to talk, you have Grace. But some of us don’t have time to get in with a girl like that… or want to. What’s wrong with wanting a quick fuck every now and then?” James rolled his eyes. This place was as bad as a college dorm.

“There’s no way the Inquisitor would bring in a whorehouse, and with Rutherford as the Commander? You’re better off picking flowers and wooing your way into bed.” Chuckles from around the table.

“The Commander… there’s one man who won’t have to worry about finding a woman to warm _his_ bed anymore.” More chuckles, and more than one ‘lucky bastard’ thrown around. James gripped his mug, resisting the urge to turn around and confront the table. _I can’t escape this gossip…_

“Just a plain bastard if you ask me,” the man right behind James muttered. He froze, recognizing the gravelly tone.

“Oh come on Emory, I know he pushed you around today in the ring, but I wouldn’t say…”

“I’m just saying he moved in _pretty_ quick on that bitch after throwing Alec in that cell…” James stood and turned, pushing his own chair violently into the one behind him in the process. Emory cursed and rose up as well, face twisted in a scowl.

“James,” he said, looking him up and down. “What’s your problem?” James stood to his full height, glowering.

“Take that back,” he growled. Emory smirked and crossed his arms.

“What? Don’t like hearing the truth about your sister?” James flared his nostrils.

“You don’t fucking know what you’re talking about,” he seethed. Emory laughed coldly. James saw some of the others exchange glances around the table.

“Emory… just let it go. That was a bad deal…” one of the men tried to interject. Emory shook his head.

“Oh I know Alec decided to flirt a little, then your sister cried rape and he got thrown in jail, cut off from lyrium with hardly a lick of evidence…” James clenched his fists, entire body shaking.

“He deserved everything he got,” he said through gritted teeth.

“…And you know what I think? I think _all_ that happened because your bitch sister decided she _could_ spread her legs for at least one Templar…” James snapped, and before he could think to stop and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. But before he could wind up for another go he was yanked back by his tunic.

“Time to go,” Bull said gruffly, dragging him toward the door. James watched as Emory spat in his direction, also held back by one of his companions.

“That’s right, go hide behind the Inquisitor’s skirts, just like your sister!” James struggled against Bull, blood searing with anger.

“Let me go!” he yelled. Bull didn’t listen, and just yanked him around to face the door. For all his strength, James was helpless to resist the Qunari, and finally let himself be guided outside. Bull pushed him around the back of the tavern, finally letting him go by pushing him toward a corner. James crossed his arms and glared at the warrior, not missing that he was effectively trapped in a corner. Bull just glared back.

“What?” James demanded after a moment.

“You’ve got to stop doing that James.” James let out a huff of air and stared at the wall. “I’m serious,” Bull continued. “You can’t keep beating up Templars.” James scowled.

“He was insulting my sister! He was defending that bastard who tried to hurt her! What was I supposed to do?”

“Walk away.”

“How can you say that!?” Bull sighed.

“Hey, I don’t like hearing those things either, but you’re going to run into _a lot_ of trouble if you try to fight every person you hear talk about or insult your sister.”

“You didn’t hear him…” Bull shook his head.

“I heard enough. But the gossip will die down, and that guy’s just afraid he’ll end up like his friend.  I’ll say it again; stop fighting Templars over this. Not with your fists.”

“He deserved it,” James grumbled.

“That’s not your call. We’re all part of the Inquisition here, and you just create headaches for the Boss when you cause fights like this.” James sighed and ran his hand through his beard, knowing Bull was right. He disliked hearing talk of his sister, but he disliked the idea of causing Nassella problems just as much.

“Fine,” he eventually said, the words sour on his tongue. “I’ll keep my fists to myself.”

“Good,” Bull said, nodding his horned head. The warrior looked him up and down. “You know what you need?”

“What?”

“A hobby.”

“A hobby?” James repeated. Bull nodded.

“You’ve been travelling too much, and now that you’re not, you’re restless. You need something to keep you occupied other than picking fights.” James shook his head.

“Like what?” Bull shrugged.

“Well, Blackwall’s got his woodcarving, Dorian reads… so does Cassandra. Varric writes, Naomi’s got her herbs. Even Cullen finds the time to play chess with your sister...”

“What about you?” Bull grinned.

“Sex.” James frowned and shook his head.

“Seriously?” Bull sighed.

“You’re just as repressed as these Thedas southerners. When I heard you and your sister were from a different world, I’d thought maybe you’d be a bit more… open, have some new tricks. But Naomi made itclear that wasn’t the case…” James clenched his fists.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she even realized I was flirting.”

“Are you serious!?” James asked, unsure if he could handle finding out about any more people who wanted to get into his sister’s pants…

“Hey now, don’t get mad at me for chatting up an attractive woman. Besides, she only has eyes for Cullen.” James groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Can we _please_ not talk about this?” Bull chuckled.

“Like I said, repressed. But alright… now, about something to keep you occupied… is there anything from your world you could do here?” James frowned. Back home he’d… played a lot of video games, definitely not something he could do here. And there were board games, but that really wasn’t an option either.

“I… no, not really,” he admitted, for once feeling a little ashamed that his hobbies were so narrow, unable to be translated to this world. Bull hummed.

“Too bad… sure you don’t want to try sex?” James flushed, getting the distinct impression that Bull was flirting with _him_ now. But surely that wasn’t the case.

“I’m good,” he said, suddenly a little uncomfortable he was cornered by the Qunari. But Bull just nodded and turned away, leading James into the more open courtyard.

“I know!” Bull said suddenly. “You need a new training challenge.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, crossing his arms. “I train every day.” Bull nodded.

“Sure, you’ve gotten good at hitting things as hard as you can, but there’s much more than that. Like battle techniques, strategy, refinement… you’ve got the mind for it. You just need to learn.” James nodded, intrigued. He _had_ been feeling a little dissatisfied with training the last few weeks, no longer challenged with the conditions they found in the field. Maybe Bull was right, that digging a little deeper into what he could do as a warrior would be just the distraction he needed.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Bull slapped him on the shoulder.

“Try talking to Blackwall. You’ve got a… protective instinct I think he could help you with. Plus, learning more about how to fight darkspawn can’t hurt.” James smirked. Yes, this sounded like a good idea, and he felt the stirrings of excitement in his gut.

“I’ll do that.” Bull chuckled.

“I’ll still want to see you every now and then for a match. You’re one of the only ones around who’s even close to matching my strength.” James’ grin grew.

“Sure thing. I still need to get you back for that last round anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vir'nehn - (Nassella's hart) joyful path


	48. New Books

Naomi stood at the docks, watching as two gulls fought over a fish, one chasing the other through the sky until it dropped its catch, only to find itself chased once the food was recovered. Back and forth the gulls went, never finding a moment to eat their catch. Naomi considered that, by this point, they had both extended more energy chasing each other than they would get out of the meager fish. But the gulls knew no better, instinctually driven to chase and steal.

At least, Naomi called them gulls, but she was sure they would have a different name here. Besides, they didn’t quite look like any species she knew from home either, though they were certainly gull-like. At one point she would have attributed the similarities to the power of convergent evolution, but with everything that had happened, she could no longer be sure of the reasons for the similarities, more and more wondering if perhaps God, or the Maker, or whatever was out there, had not actually been more actively involved in the creation of her old world, and this new one, than she had always believed.

Finally, one of the gulls broke free, taking with it the fish. The second gull circled the sky a couple of times, then glided down to land on the mast of one of the boats anchored at the pier. The sails were bright red, cheerful, and Naomi turned to studying the actual vessel, noting that it was reminiscent of Viking ships she had seen once in a museum in Oslo, years ago, the stern and bow carved into the likeness of beasts and everything. Except, Naomi was reasonably sure that whatever creature the boat was meant to emulate probably actually existed here, unlike her own world.

And across the narrow inlet of water, on the cliffs rising from the shores, were windmills. Naomi sighed, reminded by the sight of her family. She knew cultures all over the world used such structures, but her ancestors, the Dutch, were especially known for their use of the devices. And that just led her to think of her father, born in the Netherlands, though raised in the United States since he was two, after his parents immigrated. Her grandparents on her mother’s side were Dutch as well, though they had both been brought to the United States as children, shortly before the start of the Second World War. Still, windmills had always been a part of her life, and she could not separate them from thoughts of her family.

“What did you buy?” Naomi blinked, realizing she had been staring across the water. She smiled at Cassandra, then down at the book in her hand.

“An Alchemical Primer of Metallurgy: Volume One by Lord Cerastes of Marnus Pell… wherever that is.” Cassandra chuckled.

“It is in Tevinter.” Naomi hummed to indicate her understanding, tracing the letters embossed on the cover. “Are you interested in working metals?” the warrior asked. Naomi shook her head, looking into Cassandra’s hazel eyes.

“No… but I noticed it has a… chapter on lyrium in it, and I’ve found so little information in Skyhold…” she trailed off, a little embarrassed. She had spent quite a bit of the money she had brought with her on the tome, and it seemed a little wasteful, considering there were only a few pages she was actually interested in. A very scant few. But it was the first new information she had encountered on lyrium, and she had to have it.

Cassandra also made her nervous. She had talked to the warrior very little, and though she liked her, was unsure how the Seeker felt about her in return. But Cassandra nodded, giving her a small smile.

“It is good, what you are doing for Cullen, to know he is no longer facing this alone.” Naomi swallowed, taken a little off guard by the comment, having to remind herself that of course other people knew of her relationship. And it wasn’t as if she had kept her research secret, though she realized that Cassandra could possibly offer further insight.

“I… yes, I… know. _No one_ should have to face something like this alone...” She contemplated her next comment, unsure of Cassandra’s thoughts on lyrium. “And it seems… unfair, that he should have to suffer so much at all. That lyrium should be so… harmful. From what he’s told me, it does not seem as if it is much better while still taking it.” Cassandra sighed and shook her head.

“It is true. Mages have made their sufferings known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order, mind and soul, with someone always holding their lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself, and anyone who would follow suit, that it’s possible.” Naomi nodded, suddenly realizing the opportunity she might have to help any other Templar that no longer wanted to continue using lyrium. Though she wondered how many would be willing to give up their abilities in the process. Another thought occurred to her.

“But why?” Naomi asked, turning more fully toward Cassandra. “Why the lyrium at all, if the negative effects are so great? You’re abilities are just like a Templars, but you don’t have to take lyrium to have them. How? Why are Seekers different? Why can’t everyone do what you do?” Cassandra sighed, shaking her head.

“I understand why you would think Seekers are like Templars. Few from _this_ world realize we are different. But you are right; we do not use lyrium. Seeker’s abilities come from ritual and many years of dedicated training. Our bodies and minds must be elastic to undergo the Vigil, and most fail even then.”

“Vigil?” Naomi asked, already realizing why lyrium was preferred to gain the ability to resist magic. Years of rigorous training could not compare to simply taking a dose of lyrium like medicine.

“It is the rite every Seeker must go through in order to summon their gifts. A full year of fasting, prayer, and separation from all distractions, including other people. We empty ourselves of all emotion, focusing only on the purity of our devotion. And the moment it finally ends… it’s wonderful. Faith realized. I cannot put it into words.” Her voice became more emotional as she reached the end of her explanation, and Naomi couldn’t help but smile at the look of pure joy that crossed Cassandra’s face at the memory, giving her already beautiful face a softness that was stunning. The look quickly passed, though some of the softness remained in her voice when she spoke next. “I can see why you would seek an alternative to lyrium. And if the Vigil weren’t so arduous, I would agree that more should attempt it. But the Templar’s original purpose was to hunt mages, at a time when years of training were not feasible to gain the abilities to do so.” Naomi nodded, looking down at the book with a sigh. It was disheartening to hear that no safer alternative to lyrium existed, though she was already frustrated that no one trusted mages enough to serve the same purpose as Templars. Still, for the moment, she couldn’t focus on what could have been, upset about the past. Because despite every wish she had that things were different, Cullen was suffering, and she had to try and help him.

Suddenly a hand landed heavily on her shoulder, and Naomi yelped, throwing her elbow back, catching the body of whoever was behind her in the stomach.

“Shite!” Sera yelled, and Naomi turned, apologies spilling from her lips.

“Sera! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…” Sera groaned, rubbing her ribs, nose crinkled in a grimace. Naomi just stared, feeling terrible. She’d been slightly on edge the entire trip, and though she did not regret coming, couldn’t help but feel a little afraid of what lurked around every corner.

“You’re quicker than I realized,” Sera said. She poked the spot one more time and winced. “Stronger too, yeah?” Naomi swallowed.

“Really Sera…. I didn’t mean to. I get startled easily…” Cassandra chuckled.

“Perhaps Sera will finally learn that not everyone appreciates surprises,” the warrior said, lips turned up in a grin. Sera stuck her tongue out, but her expression quickly turned more pleasant as she smiled, a giggle starting low in her throat.

“It’s alright, now I just have to get you back!” The elf poked her stomach one last time. “From a bit further back, yeah?” Naomi let out a breath of laughter, not exactly sure why. Being on the receiving end of one of Sera’s pranks did not exactly sound fun.

“Really Sera, I didn’t mean it,” she repeated. The elf just nodded, tilting her head slightly as she looked at the book in her hands.

“What’s that for?” Naomi shrugged.

“It has some information on lyrium.” The elf’s lips twisted into a smirk, and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“For your Cullen-Wullen? Cully Wully…?” she teased, voice lilting with a playful tone. Naomi snorted, picturing the way Cullen’s nose would likely crinkle at hearing the nickname, brows pulling slightly together.

“Ah, yes,” she said, grinning. She was still thinking of Cullen, and the way that one corner of his mouth turned up when he smiled, and almost missed Sera’s next comment.

“Lots of men under that one. Needs a woman over him. Because… positions.” Naomi coughed, face flaming with heat, unable to believe Sera had actually said such a thing. She’d had similar thoughts, in the privacy of her own bed, a few times… and perhaps a couple of times while watching Cullen training. But _never_ would she say something like that out loud…

“What’s wrong? You know you want to…” Sera continued. Naomi let out a long breath.

“Sera! No! …I mean… that’s not the point…” she stammered. Sera laughed.

“See! You _do_ want to…” Naomi turned away from the blonde elf, hoping for help from Cassandra. But the Seeker was gone, and Sera was giggling uncontrollably behind her. Naomi still felt hot, and tried to get the images of herself straddling Cullen out of her mind. For God’s sake, she had to get over _kissing_ the man before something like that would ever happen…

She noticed Dorian and Nassella descending the stairs to the docks, and took a few deep breaths to calm herself, hoping her blush would fade by the time they reached them. The last thing she needed was more teasing from the mage. But as they drew nearer, she sensed that she wouldn’t have to worry. Nassella’s arm was linked with the man’s, and he had a distinct hunch to his shoulders, atypical for the proud mage. But he gave them all a smile when they drew close.

“Now that this nasty business is taken care of, the real fun can begin! How does chasing a dragon sound? I hear there’s still one lurking around one of the far camps…” Nassella sighed, pushing the mage’s shoulders with a grin.

“Dorian, we’re not going to fight a dragon,” she said simply. The mage gave his own exaggerated sigh.

“You really are no fun,” he said. “Alright, back to camp then? I don’t have much interest in staying here any longer.”

“Of course,” Nassella said, “I’ll just go get Cassandra.” Naomi looked, seeing the Seeker was flipping eagerly through a book at the book merchant’s stand, and proceeded to haggle with the dwarf over the price after Nassella reached her.

“Naomi, can I ask you something about your world?” Dorian asked quietly beside her. She turned, shaking her head in confusion.

“Of course Dorian. You can always ask.” The mage nodded, crossing his arms.

“You don’t seem to mind that I prefer the company of men, yes?”

“No, of course I don’t mind,” she said, confusion growing.

“Is that normal, where you are from? To not care who people sleep with?” Naomi sighed, fidgeting with her book.

“Um… it depends. There are some places where hardly anyone cares who someone loves. Where _I_ lived is trickier… there are a lot of people who don’t mind… but there are a lot who _do_ mind. And in some places… people are killed for it.” Dorian sighed.

“Of course. I had hoped, that somewhere else… things might be different. But people aren’t really different, are they?” he said bitterly.

“What happened Dorian?” she asked. Dorian shrugged.

“It turns out there was no retainer at all. My _father_ was here. To apologize… but I’m not sure I can forgive him. Not after he tried to _change_ me when I refused to play nice and marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me… acceptable. I found out. I left.” Naomi stared, shocked. “I just don’t know if I can believe he’s changed. I’m not sure people really can.” Naomi wished she had the courage to hug the mage, but in addition to her own hesitation, wasn’t sure Dorian would appreciate the gesture.

“But things _can_ change Dorian,” she said instead. “Some people may not like it, but where I come from, right before I was brought here, it was decided that anyone could marry whoever they wanted, regardless of their gender. No secrecy.” She caught the mage’s eyes with her own. “It’s not perfect, but things _can_ change. And people too.” Dorian sighed, and nodded.

“That is somewhat comforting, I suppose.” He glanced toward the others. “It seems Cassandra has made her purchase. Shall we go then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Naomi grinned, following the mage to the stairs.

“Of course! We don’t want to be late for dinner at camp!” Dorian groaned.

“You really are _far_ too cheerful for this.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

James threw the hook toward the practice dummy with a grunt, letting out another in frustration when it fell to the ground just slightly to the left. He pulled on the chain, reeling it back up for another go, suddenly wishing he had spent more time playing throwing sports in high school, instead of cross country. Not that it would have likely mattered, as he hadn’t been on an organized sports team for years. And he probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway, he realized as he rolled the chain up neatly. He certainly enjoyed watching football, but playing was another matter entirely, and he’d been turned from that path already in middle school. He’d been shorter than the other kids, slower too, and could never seem to concentrate like the coaches wanted. And though he’d hit his growth spurt eventually, grown taller than many in his class, the appeal of football had been lost.

 _Well, I’m taller now, and faster… stronger too._ He threw the hook again, this time the device bouncing off the torso of the target.

_I could use the throwing experience though._

“You’re getting closer,” Blackwall said, nodding with approval. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually, though you’ll probably want to hold off using the chain in the field for a while. It wouldn’t do to wrap the hook around the Inquisitor when you’re aiming for a red Templar.” James nodded, pulling the hook toward him again.

“Yeah, that would be bad.”

 _One thing video games taught me,_ James thought as he wound up for another go, _is that getting more skills is the only way to get the bad guy in the end…_ The hook wrapped around the dummies arm and James smirked.

_One thing that isn’t the same... no reloading saves after dying._

A few hours later, after sparring with Blackwall and a number of other recruits, the Warden instilling into them the importance of being where they are most needed on the battlefield, running through a number of mock demonstrations, a stop was called. James took a few moments to stretch out his muscles, relishing the fact that he wouldn’t have worry about being sore in the morning after the grueling workout. And he quickly reviewed the high points of Blackwalls’ lesson, filing the information away for use later in the field. He thought he had a pretty good instinct for where he could do the most damage on the battlefield, and Nassella had seldom complained, but he knew there was always room for improvement. Especially when the stakes were so high, and he was protecting more than his own life.

“Good work James,” Blackwall said, approaching from the barn with a book in hand. “We’ll make a champion out of you yet. It’s too bad we can’t have a Tourney here, with your strength, you’d have a chance in the melee. Though being fade-touched might qualify as cheating…” James grinned.

“That’s alright, as long as it helps when actually fighting, that’s all that matters.” Blackwall nodded.

“And that’s the attitude you’ll need to be a truly great warrior,” he said. “It’s not about the Tourney’s and awards, it’s about protecting those who can’t protect themselves. You do a good job of that with the Inquisitor, but with your skills you’ll be able to do much more than that.” James crossed his arms, looking at those he could see his line of sight around Skyhold. They were all in danger from the forces he had already encountered outside of the walls, and he knew he was turning into someone who could stand between them and those dangers. And he was becoming someone who could protect Nassella, their greatest hope to bring this world back from chaos.

And the more he learned, the more likely it was he would be in a position at her side when she finally faced Corypheus.

He turned to Blackwall. “That’s what I want. I want to learn everything I can to be a great warrior.” Blackwall handed him the book he was holding. James looked at the cover, realizing he had forgotten how to read many of the letters, not having had many reasons to read the common language since he was first taught by Varric months ago.

“What’s this?” he asked. Blackwall crossed his own arms.

“The Champion’s Code. Some of it won’t be really relevant… it was written by an Orlesian. But it will give you something to think about. Keep you focused on how to best use your skills.” James nodded, realizing he would have to ask Varric for a refresher on reading. But he had plenty of time for that.

He spent the next few days in that same way, spending the entire day with Blackwall sparring, training his endurance and agility, working through hypothetical battles with ever possible combination of rogue, mage, and warrior companion. And at night he would meet up with Varric to get his reading skills back up to par, working slowly through Blackwall’s book.

Fortunately it was short, and once he felt comfortable enough reading the passages, he devoured it quickly. Many of the pages were filled with battle techniques and martial instruction, but other passages revealed what being a champion was about. James wasn’t interested in gaining notoriety or fame, but one thing was clear, after reading the book. If he truly wanted to stop Corypheus, if he wanted to be the best warrior he could and protect Nassella, protect his sister, then he would have to be willing to push himself, to defend with everything he had.

Even if that meant he died along the way.

\-----

James took the stairs to the kitchens two at a time, hoping that the head cook wouldn’t be there. He was famished after training, but if the cook was guarding the kitchens, he would have no chance of swiping a loaf of bread or a meat pie to hold him over until dinner.

He grinned when he looked into the kitchens and found them empty, though the roaring fire meant someone had likely just stepped out and would soon be back. He eyed the fresh loaves hungrily, and quickly made his way around the table to grab one, setting his sights on the door to make his escape.

“Hello James.” He spun, dropping the bread in the process.

“Oh… hey Mayra,” he said, bending to retrieve the loaf. Mayra smirked, lugging the basket of fruit she was carrying to the table, wiping her forehead with a sleeve when she’d put down her burden.

“Don’t let Cook catch you taking bread before the meal,” she said. James cleared his throat, turning the food over in his hands.

“Yeah, I know. But when no one was in here when I came through…” Mayra smirked again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“Thanks,” James mumbled. Then he sighed. “Mayra, about the other night…” She snorted, unloading the basket.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. There are a lot of beautiful women here and you don’t want me. I’ve moved on.” James frowned.

“That’s not it at all.” It was Mayra’s turn to frown, giving James a skeptical glare before returning to the fruit.

“Then why did you turn me away?” James sighed, rubbing a hand through his beard.

“It just… wasn’t a good time.” He said lamely. Mayra snorted and brought her hands to her hips, rolling her eyes.

“Since when do men need it to be a good time to have sex?” James bristled.

“I hardly know you Mayra!”

“So?” James rubbed a hand over his entire face.

“So, if we had sex I would want it to be because we knew each other, and cared about each other…”

“What? Like love?” James sighed.

“Yeah… I guess.”

“It’s just sex James,” she said, voice dripping with disbelief. James dropped his shoulders, defeated. It was clear that whatever Mayra wanted, he couldn’t give it to her. But he couldn’t bring himself to change what he believed, and after what happened with Naomi…

But he didn’t like being alone, either.

“Not to me,” he said. Marya pulled her brows together in confusion, frowning as she worked with the food. “I just want you to know it’s not because I’m not attracted to you,” he finally said. “And I do like you, so if you want to hang out again… just let me know.” He turned toward the stairs, having nothing else to say. He knew sex was treated casually here by many, but he couldn’t really understand it. His friends back home hadn’t been so casual, Mackenzie hadn’t been… He had gone his entire life expecting to wait until he was married, and that belief was proving to be harder to change than he would have thought.

He was distracted as he took the stairs toward the great hall, and nearly ran into Cullen as the Commander left Josephine’s office. He paused to let the man pass, but Cullen pulled up short.

“James,” he said, giving him a small smile. “I was wondering if perhaps you would be interested in a game of chess tomorrow. Naomi mentioned you might enjoy playing…” The man cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “And, as you are her family…” he trailed off, staring at the wall. James crossed his arms, but nodded.

“Sure. That sounds fine,” he said.

“Ah, good. Until tomorrow then,” Cullen said, turning quickly toward the great hall. James followed him into the large room, watching as he walked its length, turning at the rotunda to return to his office. James shook his head, hoping the game wouldn’t be too awkward. But Naomi _had_ said he should get to know Cullen more, and perhaps the Commander had the same idea…

Still, he couldn’t help the rise of anxiety thinking about his sister with Cullen. He knew she didn’t want him to worry, and he _did_ trust that she knew what she was doing. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the blonde man could hurt his sister, couldn’t trust that Cullen’s intentions were completely pure. He could understand his interest, as his sister was intelligent and kind. And beautiful. James wondered how he hadn’t realized just how attractive his sister was until recently. But after his conversation with Mayra, he wondered if Cullen’s expectations would be different than Naomi’s, and she would find herself in a situation like the one Alec had put her in again…

“Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when she holds him.” James jumped, turning to glare at Cole, the spirit appearing at his side. He disliked the way the other man could sneak up on him and catch him off guard. And he _really_ disliked the way he could dive into people’s thoughts.

“Hey Cole,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. Cole quirked his head.

“You think he will hurt, that _she_ will hurt. But she feels safe, sees truth and trust in what he does. In what he doesn’t. She wants to heal his hurts, but he heals hers.” James sighed, finally taking a bite of the bread.

“Are you saying I don’t need to worry?” he asked. Cole nodded.

“You shouldn’t hurt. They don’t. Not with each other.” James just ate his food. He knew Cole wasn’t lying... that had been made perfectly evident during all the times he had travelled with him. But letting go of his concerns was difficult. Still, if Cullen really did help his sister… he would try.

It was what he had had with Mackenzie after all. He knew what having a supportive partner was, what they could do for each other. He would try to be happy for Naomi, who maybe had finally found some happiness in this place. He watched Solas exit the rotunda, stopping to talk with Varric, and felt his stomach clench.

Yes, Naomi should be happy, even if he didn’t feel the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game and property of Bioware.


	49. Making Plans

“The Inquisitor will return in a few days, and final preparations can be made for the journey to the Approach. We will be on our way within a fortnight,” Cullen said, scanning the map on the table before him. Reports from the Approach indicated that activity was increasing at Adamant Fortress, and it was imperative that they make their move as soon as possible. Still, he knew it would take weeks to move the Inquisition’s entire force to the far end of Orlais, but they would take the time they needed to prepare fully for the attack, as stopping the Wardens was more important than anything the Inquisition had yet done.

“Good,” Josephine said. “The siege equipment is on route to the Approach and will be ready when your forces arrive.” The ambassador turned to her tablet, reading through the list that surely graced the surface, looking back to Cullen after a moment. “I would like to travel with you as far as Val Royeaux. I have a number of matters to attend to, and would like to be in a position to meet with nobles to deal with the outcome at Adamant… whatever it may be.” Cullen nodded.

“That can certainly be arranged,” he said. “Leliana and Cassandra will be more than capable of keeping things here in order.” They fell into silence, each turning to the various reports and requests piled around the war table. Everyone had been busy in these final few days before they left, and work was piling up on every surface. Cullen worked through a report about the state of the armory, making a note to request more arrows fletched, and at least three dozen more shields crafted. The next was from a visiting Orlesian noble, requesting an audience with him, and he passed the note to Josephine. She promised to make the appropriate excuses to get him out of the meeting, and he turned with relief to the next missive in his stack. It was from Master Dennet, outlining the number of mounts that would be taken with them, lists of feed, horseshoes, and extra tack required for the journey. But he stopped when he reached the bottom of the report, rereading the last few sentences to make sure he understood.

_I’ll need help keeping the horses healthy. Dane and Erich have agreed to come, but I’ll also need Naomi. We’ve been stretched thin these last few days without her, and I’m not moving these horses halfway across the world without her help._

_Dennet_

Cullen dropped his hand, rubbing the back of his neck, stomach clenching uneasily. Why had he not considered that the horsemaster would want Naomi’s help? It was what she did every day after all, and very well. Of course Dennet would want her there.

But they were at war. They were marching to battle! How could he approve putting her in danger like this? On taking her from the safety of Skyhold…

Except, he had already done that. He’d _suggested_ it. She was in the Hinterlands at that very moment, wandering around areas that until very recently had been overrun with apostate mages, rogue Templars, bandits, rifts...

He clenched his fists, heart rate increasing suddenly with fear. What had he been thinking to suggest such a thing? Yes, Naomi wanted to learn more about this world, but surely there was something else that could have been arranged…

“Cullen, is everything alright?” Josephine asked. Cullen shook his head, realizing he had been glaring at the map.

“Yes, yes of course,” he replied. Josephine gave him a quizzical look, tilting her head slightly to the side, but quickly went back to her own pile of work. Cullen looked back down at the missive from Dennet, coming back to his senses. Everything would be fine. Naomi wasn’t in Skyhold, but she was with the Inquisitor, and Cassandra and Dorian and Sera. Naomi had asked if he thought she would be safe with them, and he knew it was true. Nassella would not let something happen to her, and as Naomi had pointed out, she could not be so easily hurt. And Cullen knew that while inexperienced, she had gained skill with a bow and could likely wield a dagger in a pinch. And the Hinterlands really were much safer now…

Yes, she would be fine.

But he could not entirely shake the uneasy feeling in his gut, a feeling that had settled as he watched her ride from Skyhold on Liberty’s back, a feeling that returned every time he thought of her. It kept him up, not knowing what she was doing, whether she was safe, thinking he may never hear her laugh again, never know what her lips and body felt like pressed to his in a moment of passion…

He wished he could have kissed her before she left, that he could _show_ her more than words ever could that he longed for her when she was gone. He’d never found himself so attached to the presence of another in his life until her. And then he’d sent her away.

_Perhaps it is best we did not kiss… It would have made watching her leave that much more painful._

But it pained him to think that, when she returned, he had no reason to expect he could greet her as he so desperately wanted to, a full kiss pressed to her beautiful lips. Again, he would be unable to show her he cared, that he missed her. He could tell her, and she would believe him, but he wished he could do more.

Of course, all of that was up to her. He would only kiss her when she was ready.

But he would continue to let her know that _he_ was ready.

Though he would soon be leaving for months. He didn’t know what he would do if they hadn’t kissed before he left…

Except, Dennet had just solved that very problem. Or at least part of it. If she travelled with them to the Approach, he wouldn’t have to leave her. They could continue to be together, and her trust in him could grow. It may still take time, but surely… surely he would soon be able to hold her as he had wanted to for months…

And he wouldn’t have to wonder after her safety. Yes, things might be dangerous, but she would have the entire Inquisition army to protect her. She would have _him_ to protect her.

He remembered how upset she had gotten when he suggested she should stay behind just a few days ago. He had yet to see her angry, but the suggestion that she stay in Skyhold had brought that anger out, and turned it toward him. He knew she was afraid to find herself alone in this world with no understanding of how to help herself, but he hadn’t realized to the extent those feelings went. But it made sense, how upset she was. She was a grown woman who had spent much of her recent life living independently, taking care of herself. That had been stripped from her by the Breach. Helpless, she had called herself. But she wasn’t helpless, she was just… unprepared for this world’s dangers, placed in this position by powers beyond her control.

A position it was clear she wanted to change, and travelling across Orlais to the Approach would potentially give her the experience outside of Skyhold she wanted. And this time, he could be there, he wouldn’t have to watch her leave through Skyhold’s gates, or look back as he left her behind. He could be there to see her discover this world. He could be there to keep her safe.

Hopefully, he would be there to kiss and hold her.

_Yes… this could be a good thing._

 

\-----

 

Cullen waited for James to make his move, wishing he could think of something to say to the man. They were barely ten moves into their game and had likely exchanged just as many words. He didn’t know what was holding him back, he’d spoken with James on multiple occasions. Just… not since his interest in the man’s sister had become known. Naomi had said James wouldn’t care, but Cullen wasn’t so sure. James hadn’t smiled once since they met for their game. Cullen could understand why he was serious, but he thought the man might be a little more… friendly. Especially considering the temperament of his sister.

Still, he supposed he understood the man’s reservations. He just had to find a way to convince James he needn’t worry.

If only he wasn’t so bad at making conversation.

“Where did you learn to play?” he asked. James finally moved a pawn, sitting back in his chair.

“Naomi taught me a few weeks ago, when Nassella was in the Plains,” he replied. Cullen nodded, making his own move.

“My sister taught me as well. It was years before I finally beat her.” James moved a knight.

“I beat Naomi the second time we played,” he said, and Cullen caught a hint of a smile from the man’s lips. Cullen chuckled, moving one of his own pieces.

“I am not surprised. As intelligent as your sister is, she is certainly not a competitive opponent.”

“Then why do you play with her?” Cullen sat back, studying James. The other man was inspecting the board, but Cullen sensed he was waiting intently for his answer. James’ brows were pulled together in concentration, running a hand along his chin as he contemplated his next move, and Cullen was suddenly reminded of Naomi, who often studied the board with the same intense concentration. Really, many things about James reminded Cullen of her. Their height, the set of their features, their expressions… and their eyes. Especially their eyes. James had the same brilliant eyes, blue encircling a burst of green, set under thick brows, as his sister.

Cullen missed seeing Naomi’s eyes, and the way they were often crinkled in amusement. He missed playing chess with her, and talking about their worlds. He missed her questions. He missed _asking_ her questions, and the lengthy answers she would inevitably produce. Hers had been a life of travel and study, of stability and optimism. He wondered how he kept her interested in comparison, his own life largely confined to the Circles, and far from stable. But her interest never seemed to falter.

He’d never found himself missing another person after so short a time apart before.

James moved his piece, and Cullen realized he had yet to answer his question. “It is not about the game,” he said. “I… enjoy spending time with her, and talking. Before I knew how she felt about me… playing chess was an excuse to do just that, apart from work.” James just nodded, and Cullen made his next move, unsure if he had answered the man’s question to his liking. But he didn’t know what James wanted.

“How old are you?” James asked suddenly. Cullen knocked over a piece, and had to take the time to set it back up before he could answer.

“I will be thirty in two month’s time,” he said finally.

“That’s it?” James asked, surprised. Cullen frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I just thought… you seem older.” Cullen sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“My life has… not always been easy,” he answered. _Thirty… but I often feel twice that._

“Sorry,” James continued. “I just assumed… well, I figured you were older, since you’re the Commander and all…” The man frowned, looking to the board and rubbing his beard.

“Is there a problem?” Cullen asked. James sat up and shook his head, brows still furrowed as he looked at him.

“No… it just makes me feel a little better about everything…” He crossed his arms, glaring at the board, and Cullen suddenly saw the man in a new light. He had been concerned for Naomi and her adjustment to life here, but had failed to consider that James might have struggles of his own. It was easy to forget that James was likely just as unsure about his life here, about his place, his large size and obvious strength giving Cullen a sense that he would handle things well on his own.

But he was young, Cullen remembering James was at least two years younger than Naomi, putting him at… twenty-four. Yes, James was young, likely struggling, left with no one but his sister…

And he was just as protective, if not more so, of her than himself. She had already been hurt by one man recently… perhaps James thought he would do the same. The thought made Cullen sick. He could not stand for the only family Naomi had thinking he would hurt her in the same way.

“I care for her James. I would never hurt her.” James turned his glare to him, though he attempted to smooth the expression when their eyes met.

“I… I know that. She wouldn’t be with you otherwise.”

“You don’t seem convinced.” James sighed, running his hand through his beard once more.

“I’m trying… it’s just so much has happened recently…”

“It will not happen again,” Cullen said fervently. James nodded, fiddling with a piece on the board.

“Maybe not from you, but…” Cullen felt his stomach clench.

“What is it?” James cleared his throat.

“I’ve just been… hearing things about Naomi, and you, from some of the others. I don’t like the way they talk about her.” Cullen felt his face heat in anger. He knew there was gossip, but if James was hearing something more…

“Do you think she is in danger? I can’t imagine any man would try something, not after what happened with Alec…” He paused, leaning forward. “Who is saying these things?” James frowned.

“Just some of Alec’s friends… I don’t know, I don’t think they’ll do anything. But I don’t really like the idea of her being alone again, once we leave for Adamant…” Cullen leaned back and crossed his arms, his conviction that bringing Naomi along was the right decision growing.

“She will not be left alone. She is coming with us to care for the horses.” He watched as James’ mouth dropped open, and before he knew it the man was yelling, gesturing wildly.

“How can she be coming along? We’re going to battle! She can’t be anywhere near that!” Cullen sighed, James’ concerns following very similarly his own.

“You just expressed concerns about having her stay here. Now that won’t be a problem.” It was what he said to convince himself it was the right decision. James scoffed, shaking his head.

“I thought you could just… ask someone to keep an eye on her! Not bring her along!”

“This was not my idea James, though I did approve it. She has a job, as everyone in the Inquisition does. She is needed with the horses, and that is where she will be.” _And she will be with me._ James crossed his arms, glaring across the garden, but eventually he nodded.

“I guess.”

“She will not be near the fighting. She will be safe.”

“I hate this,” James said suddenly, violently moving his queen across the board, a bold move with no apparent advantage. “This is not how our lives were supposed to go.” Cullen looked to the man with sympathy. Yes, James was young, and had learned, as many in Thedas did, as _he_ himself had at a young age, that life did not often go as one planned.

They could only pray they would be presented with no more surprises.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Nassella gently brushed her fingers along the indent in the soil, noting the still sharp angles. She turned to the vegetation, finding the grass freshly clipped. She stood, pointing the signs out to Naomi.

“See there, the tracks. They are fresh, the edges sharp.” Naomi kneeled to inspect the tracks.

“Yes,” she said, looking up at her with a smile. “I’ve looked at tracks before you know.” Nassella giggled, bending down once more.

“Yes, but it takes practice to notice the subtle differences between a track left an hour ago, or those left a day ago. But here, you can see the grass is freshly clipped, the juices from the leaves haven’t even dried.”

“Yes, I can see. So these are fresh?” Nassella nodded.

“Very fresh. The…” She stopped, turning to Naomi with a grin. “Do you know what animals these belong too?” Naomi, leaned over the tracks, tilting her head slightly.

“Some sort of ungulate…” she muttered. Then she smiled. “The rams… with this size… it must be the rams!” Nassella hushed the woman.

“Yes, the rams. But we must be quiet now. They aren’t far away. Your bow is ready?” Naomi nodded, pulling the device from her back. “Good. We’ll track them, then I’ll help you set up a good shot.” Naomi nodded again, a huge grin plastered on her face. The expression was infectious, and Nassella found herself smiling as she ducked through the underbrush, impressed with Naomi’s ability to follow her nearly as quietly, especially with the extra height the woman possessed.

In fact, much had impressed her about Naomi this trip. She was enthusiastic, helpful, eager to learn… that was why they were currently hunting. Naomi had not been content to simply learn how to build a fire, cook a meal, or set up a tent. She wanted to be able to find her own food, to provide for herself. Nassella was more than happy to indulge her, and couldn’t deny that Naomi’s interest in hunting pleased her. It had been so long since she had gotten a chance to just hunt, or explore the woods with a friend. And the Hinterlands were beautiful, so unlike the forests of the Free Marches. They were wild and rugged and _free,_ and Nassella could tell Naomi was just as happy to be there as she was, glad once again that Cullen had suggested she come. She could see Naomi’s confidence growing with each day, and with each skill she learned, just as she had seen James grow over their months of travelling. And being with Naomi like this reminded her of the days they had spent exploring the woods around Haven, before they knew of Corypheus and his plans, when things were simpler by comparison.

It reminded her of her life before the Conclave, when her biggest concern had been bringing home food from the day’s hunt for the clan.

They followed the ram’s trail for several minutes through the underbrush. But suddenly the tracks changed. Instead of meandering through the underbrush, jumping between patches of succulent grass, the tracks bounded away, hooves digging deeply into the moist soil, kicking up clods of dirt as the rams bounded away. Nassella stood, no longer afraid she would spook the rams. Something had already done that, and she wasn’t sure if they would ever find them that day.

“Ness! Look out!” Naomi suddenly yelled. In less than a second her daggers were in her hands, and Nassella looked up with barely enough time to dodge the ball of energy that hurtled through the trees. The burst of fire sailed over her head, and Nassella quickly scanned the situation, realizing with dread that a shade was nearly on top of them, winding through the trees with claws raised. And further back was a wisp, already winding up to throw another ball of energy in their direction.

“Stay back Naomi!” she yelled, running toward the shade, adjusting the grip on her blades. As long as she kept a tree between herself and the wisp, and Naomi did the same, she would be able to take care of the shade and turn to the wisp with little problem.

And as long as no more demons were lurking in the trees.

She ducked beneath the shade’s first swipe of claws, turning quickly and jabbing a series of quick stabs into the demon’s back. It turned with a shriek, and Nassella dove away, leading the shade around a tree. She circled around a second tree, catching the shade as it tried to follow, jumping on its back, sinking her daggers into its rotting flesh with a single powerful thrust. It began to spin, but she clung to her daggers, tugging out one of the knives and slashing it across the demon’s throat. With a final shriek the shade sunk to the ground, body disintegrating into a flash of green. Gripping her daggers, Nassella stood and turned, scanning the trees for the wisp.

But the woods were silent.

Confused, Nassella ran toward the last place she had seen the creature, but it was gone. She turned in a slow circle, and stopped when she saw Naomi several feet away, bow drawn and arrow locked into place, looking toward her with wide eyes and lips drawn in a thin line.

“What happened?” she asked, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Naomi lowered her weapon.

“I… killed it?” she said, voice unsure. Nassella felt her mouth drop open, and she looked to the ground around her. There, by a tree, were three scattered arrows, clustered close enough that it was clear they had at one point been buried in the same body. And a single arrow buried in a tree. Nassella turned back to Naomi, shaking her head.

“You killed it?” Naomi nodded.

“Um… yes. Is that… alright?” Nassella felt her face split into a grin, and she ran toward the woman.

“Yes… of course! I just… thought you didn’t want to fight.” Naomi sighed, eyes still blown wide.

“Well… I don’t. But it was attacking you! What was I supposed to do?!” Nassella grabbed the woman’s arm, squeezing her gently.

“That was perfect Naomi. Thank you.” She looked around the woods, brow furrowed. “But now, we need to find where those things came from. Demons don’t just spawn out of nowhere.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi followed Nassella through the woods, the elf now tracking demons instead of rams. She clenched her bow, attempting to keep her hands from shaking, and took deep breaths to try and calm the racing of her heart.

_Those were demons… fucking in-the-flesh demons…_

Demons… James had tried to describe them, how they looked, the sounds they made. But there was no way to adequately put into words those shrieks, or the sheer alien appearance of these creatures. They were nothing like the spirits she had encountered in the Fade.

And there had been no hesitation, no pause to assess Nassella or herself. These demons had attacked without provocation, with a single-minded purpose to kill. It was their very nature, to embody a single emotion, a single purpose. There was no room in these creatures for doubt, for compassion, for empathy.

It was terrifying.

It hadn’t taken much for Naomi to decide that these demons had to die, and the wispy green creature had stood so still, throwing projectiles at Nassella… trying to kill her friend. It was nothing to aim arrows intended for rams at this creature. She’d found her aim quickly, after missing her initial shot, her mind and body remembering the weeks she had spent practicing every night in the Fade.

And now they were looking for more. The demons had come from somewhere… and they could not leave any that remained free to roam the world. Nassella was following the trail of the two they had already killed, and Naomi felt her apprehension rising. Based on what James had told her… they had just encountered some of the less terrifying varieties.

The trail led down the bank of a river, and at the water’s edge Nassella paused, glancing up and down the stream. Naomi watched her clench her fist, and focus on the direction up the river.

“That way… I think there’s a rift,” she whispered, splashing through the water. Naomi followed, and after a few steps felt a strange shiver run up her arms, her hair standing on edge. The feeling only grew stronger as they approached a narrowing of the river, two rocks faces rising sharply from the banks. Nassella slowed, cautiously rounding the bend.

And there, at the base of a waterfall, was a rift, nearly a dozen demons wandering aimlessly below its glowing crystalline structure. She heard Nassella hiss, and found herself pulled back the way they had come, until they were safely on the bank above the river.

“Shit,” Nassella muttered. “I thought we found all the rifts here…”

“What should we do?” Nassella frowned, taking off through the woods at a jog.

“I need to get Dorian, Cassandra, and Sera. There’s no way I can take this on alone...” Naomi frowned, pulling Nassella to a stop.

“Let me help,” she said. Nassella shook her head.

“Naomi, that’s not necessary. I can do this with the others…”

“I know… but please Ness, let me do something. I know I’m not that good, but surely I could do _something_.” Nassella sighed, staring at the ground.

“Let me think about it,” she said, taking off at a run. Naomi followed, no longer finding the woods as inviting a place as they had been that morning.

 

\----- 

 

Naomi ran her fingers along the string of her bow, adjusting her weight back and forth between her feet. Nassella was briefing them all on the situation of the rift, and she tried to pay as close attention as she could, determined to contribute to destroying the rift as much as she could.

“Dorian, keep barriers up as much as possible. Cassandra and I will focus on the shades. I also saw at least one terror demon in there, and who knows what else this thing will spawn. Sera, Naomi, find a high point and take out the wisps and the despair demons as quickly as you can. And Naomi, don’t hesitate to step out if you get uncomfortable. I know you’ve never been in a fight like this before, and it can be overwhelming.”

Naomi nodded, pushing down the unease roiling in her stomach. She had no intention of running away… She had helped Nassella before, and was determined to do it again. She didn’t like fighting, but these demons were something else entirely.

“Alright, let’s go,” Nassella said, running toward the rift, everyone else in tow. Naomi gripped her bow, following Sera.

“There!” the blonde elf said, pointing to a small hill that overlooked the rift. “We get up there and take them down one by one. Easy, yeah?”

“Whatever you say, Sera,” she responded, ears already grating from the screams of demons.

For the next several minutes everything was chaos, and Naomi considered it a wonder that she was able to hit anything at all, with the way her hands were shaking and her blood pounding in her ears. She’d followed Sera up the slope, settling herself among the vegetation, and set herself to taking shots at the green wisps scattered below the rifts that were shooting annoying bursts of energy toward Cassandra and Nassella confronting the terror demons. There were screams and shouts everywhere, and Naomi’s skin continued to crawl, nausea roiling in her gut.

But she tried to focus on what Nassella had said. T _ake out the wisps. Take out the despair demon._

The despair demon. It was the worst, its shrieks grating her ears and shots of ice causing Cassandra to stumble. Naomi focused her attention there, continuing to take deep, even breaths, to steady her hands.

_Just release with the exhale… Yes! Like that. Now again…_

Sera’s arrows joined hers, and soon the demon was a pile of rags floating down the stream with the current.

Naomi lowered her bow, arms starting to tremble with exhaustion. It was one thing to shoot arrows all night in the Fade… it was turning out to be quite another to continue the pace with her actual body.

And then the wisps were gone, but the rift glowed, streams of light spreading from the central crystal, a number of terror demons materializing from the energy.

Naomi pulled another arrow from her quiver, wishing she had brought more with her. She noted Sera had focused on the furthest demon, separated from where Nassella and Cassandra grappled with their own, and joined her arrows with the rogue’s, wishing she was confident enough in her skill to assist Nassella or Cassandra with their own struggles. But she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t hit either of them in the process.

Suddenly, the ground beneath the demon began to boil green, and Naomi turned to Sera with confusion. But the question paused on her lips, and she watched with a rising feeling of panic in her chest as the ground beneath the elf began to shine green with the same light…

“Sera!” she yelled. The elf glanced down, fear flashing across her face before she was thrown from her spot and down the hill, the demon now in her place.

Naomi froze, unsure what to do, concern for Sera washing through her. The demon slowly stood, and she realized for the first time just how t _all_ the creature was, how very small she was in comparison. It turned in her direction, and some deep-seated sense of self-preservation kicked in. Naomi grappled for an arrow, taking unsteady aim.

_Breathe… release…_

The creature jerked back, an arrow protruding from its skull. And kept moving forward.

_Shit… fucking demon anatomy…_

And she was rapidly running out of room on the hill, about to take the same fall as Sera…

Lightening cracked from the sky, and Naomi was momentarily blinded. She blinked, realizing the demon was stunned, swaying unsteadily on its feet.

“Now Naomi!” someone yelled from below. With a burst of clarity she lined up another shot on the creature’s head. Then another. Then in the chest. Then there was more lightening and it was gone.

Naomi couldn’t move. She couldn’t hear. She didn’t know if there were more demons. If the rift was gone. All she knew was that she was fine and the demon was dead. That she had avoided a tumble down the ravine…

“Sera!” she yelled, finally looking around for the elf, relieved when she saw the blonde rogue walking a little shakily into the river. The river that was clear of all demons, the rift sealed.

She fell heavily to the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs, forehead on her knees. It was over. It was gone.

_This is what James has been doing for months?_

She couldn’t help but be impressed. And angry, that she hadn’t realized the danger he was so frequently in.

“Naomi! Are you alright?” Nassella yelled from the river below. Naomi looked up, nodding shakily, swallowing in an attempt to calm her nausea.

“Yes… I’ll be fine,” she yelled back, rising shakily to her feet.

She would be fine.


	50. Facing Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everybody! And for anyone who doesn't celebrate this particular holiday, I still hope you have a wonderful day and get to spend time with people you love!
> 
> I would also like to take a moment to thank everyone who's been reading this, and for those who leave comments. I really love getting them, and sometimes they give me ideas!

Nassella admired the sight of Skyhold as they approached from the camp below, bouncing slightly in her saddle at the prospect of seeing Solas. She realized that there had been very few days in the last months, since she had met him below that rift as Cassandra led her to the Breach, when she had not seen him. His presence had been a constant for so long, and she didn’t like when they were apart. But the trip to Redcliffe had been short, and Solas had expressed interest in working on his mural. There was really no reason for him to come.

But she had missed him, and intended to show him just how much at the soonest opportunity. She took a moment to indulge in those thoughts, shifting slightly in her saddle as they ventured into more intimate detail. She only pulled herself back to the present when a loud sneeze emanated from the woman next to her.

Nassella turned to Naomi, sitting astride Liberty, to ask if she was excited to be back, to see Cullen again. But the woman wasn’t looking at Skyhold. Instead, she was frowning at her hands wrapped around the horn of her saddle. Naomi had been subdued the entire return journey, and though it was subtle, the difference was enough to worry Nassella.

“Is something wrong Naomi?” The woman shook her head and looked up to her with a half-smile.

“No,” she responded. Nassella raised an eyebrow and Naomi sighed, turning back to her hands.

“I’ve just been thinking about the rift… and the demons. I just never realized you’ve been fighting those things this entire time…”

“It was terrifying at first,” Nassella admitted, remembering especially those first few hours of chaos on her way to the destroyed temple. It had been months since her own first encounter with demons, but she could still imagine the fear Naomi had likely experienced at the rift in the Hinterlands. “And it still is. But I’ve closed dozens of them by now… I guess I’ve started to get used to them.”

“And James?”

“What do you mean?” Naomi shrugged.

“Has James gotten used to killing demons?” Nassella smirked.

“I’d say he’s more than used to it… he’s actually quite good at it.” Naomi hummed in understanding and grew quiet. But soon, she revealed where her mind had wandered.

“And what about other things? How used are you to… that?” Nassella took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to order her thoughts, before she answered.

“I don’t think I will ever be used to it. I grew up hunting, so I’m no stranger to death, but I would be lying if I found it easy to kill. The first time I went to the Hinterlands, things were much different than they are now. I’d… never killed a person before then, but we got there and had to fight our way through mages and Templars… I could hardly sleep the entire time we were there.” Naomi nodded, still staring at her hands. Nassella frowned. It had been so long since someone asked her how she felt about killing, and she was a little disturbed to realize that, while she knew she didn’t like it, killing had become such a part of her life that it no longer left her with a sick feeling in her gut, or nightmares. It was not easy, but it was becoming common.

She wasn’t sure how that had happened. She wasn’t sure that she liked it.

“And James?” Nassella sighed.

“I don’t know Naomi, but he… hasn’t hesitated to kill in a long time.” The woman nodded, deep frown pulling her brows together. “He threw up the first time he saw someone die,” she said quietly, hoping to bring some small amount of comfort to her friend. Naomi nodded again, then sniffed, and Nassella realized she was trying not to cry. “I’m sorry if this bothers you…” Naomi shook her head, looking up and rubbing the moisture from her eyes.

“No… I mean, yes, it does, a little bit. But I know you need to do this… I understand that…” She sniffed again, running a hand below her nose. She looked at Nassella, small worried smile on her face. “It’s just now… knowing how _intense_ what you do is… It’s hard to imagine James doing that… and killing people…” She sighed, eyes returning to her hands. “James warned me about what could be out there, but I didn’t really listen to him. But this really is nothing like home…” Nassella watched a tear fall to her lap. “I thought I knew that… but I don’t think I really did. I’m still not sure I do.”

“Do you regret leaving Skyhold?” Nassella asked, questioning her decision to let Naomi help at the rift. But Naomi shook her head.

“No. This is my reality now. It’s James’ reality. I needed to see that.” Nassella sighed, looking back at Skyhold. Yes, rifts and demons and killing were their realities. But, at least for her, it hadn’t always been that way.

“That’s why I’m fighting,” she said, turning back to Naomi. “That’s why James is fighting. So this doesn’t have to be reality. So there won’t be any more rifts, so there won’t be Corypheus. We’re fighting so people like you don’t have to find yourself attacked by demons, or red Templars. Maybe someday things will be different.” Naomi paused, then gave her another small smile.

“I can understand that… and I feel like I should thank you.” Nassella quirked her head to the side.

“Thank me?” Naomi chuckled softly.

“Something we would say back home to our soldiers… ‘Thank you for your service.’ But it doesn’t seem like enough. You deserve so much more than gratitude for what you do.” Nassella shook her head. She had a hard enough time just getting gratitude for what she did in the name of the Inquisition. She’d certainly gained none from the Chantry. Receiving anything more would be beyond her expectations, and she couldn’t even imagine what form that would take. Riches? Fame? Neither held any appeal to her.

“At this point, keeping people like you safe is enough for me,” she said, watching as Naomi tried to stop the spread of a smile across her face. Nassella grinned back, hoping to change the subject.

“Are you excited to see Cullen?” Naomi lost her battle to not smile.

“Yes,” she said shyly.

“Are you ready to tell him?” Naomi took a deep breath, but nodded.

“Yes… I think so.”

“Hey,” Nassella said, catching Naomi’s eyes. “You faced a terror demon on your own. Surely this can’t be scarier.” Naomi grimaced.

“I don’t know… this is much more… personal.”

“Still, if it were between the demon and Cullen…?” Naomi laughed, then gave a long sigh.

“I know... Cullen. Of course I’d go with Cullen.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen was passing over the bridge to his office when he spotted the flash of purple from near the stables below. It stopped him in his tracks.

_The Inquisitor’s hart… that means…_

He turned on his heels, back toward the main keep. If only he hadn’t been tied up in meetings all afternoon, perhaps he would have been there to greet the group’s return. To greet Naomi.

He entered the rotunda, unsurprised to find the Inquisitor there, standing too close to Solas to be merely friendly.

“She’s in her room,” Nassella said with a smile. “Dropping her things off.” Cullen stopped, thinking to ask how she knew what he was going to ask. But a small smirk from Solas sent a flush through him, and he stammered through a quick exit.

“Ah… yes, thank you Inquisitor… I am... glad to see you returned safely…” Nassella’s laughter followed him into the main hall, and he shook his head, resigning himself to try and keep his eagerness more in check.

He paused outside of Naomi’s door to do just that. But it was difficult. She’d left it ajar, and he was greeted with a view of her shapely backside wrapped in tight leather as she emptied the contents of a pack onto her bed. After discarding the thought of what those curves would feel like beneath his hands, Cullen cleared his throat, rapping his knuckles along the wood of the open door.

She turned quickly, followed immediately by a smile. A view he found even more beautiful.

“Cullen!” she exclaimed, leaving the side of the bed to move toward him. He took steps toward her as well, but she was far quicker, and had her arms wrapped around his neck before he had fully entered the room. He wrapped himself around her, regretting once again that his armor kept their bodies apart.

“I missed you,” he said into her hair, rubbing a gloved hand along the planes of her back, itching to explore lower. She laughed softly, pulling away slightly.

“It was less than a week,” she said, grinning. “But I… missed you too.” Her eyes lowered momentarily, but returned crinkled fondly. Cullen drank in her features. Her warm brown hair she’d let loose from her braid, tan freckles, brilliant eyes, perfect nose, full lips…

Their arms where still around each other, she was smiling, and he hadn’t seen her in days…

“Naomi,” he said, finding his voice pitched down. He moved a hand gently to the line of her jaw, moving his face closer to hers. “May I…?”

She frowned and turned away. He dropped his arms, taking a step back, rejection causing his chest to contract and a sharp pain to form at the back of his throat. He thought he would be ready for her refusal, but even though it had happened before, and he had every reason to suspect it would happen again, he had hoped that this encounter would be different. That she would trust him.

He didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t hesitated to hug him, had smiled just as brightly as she always did at the sight of him. He thought she cared, that she trusted him, but still she pulled away. He didn’t know what else he could say, what else he could do to convince her that he wasn’t like Alec. That she didn’t need to fear him.

 _Perhaps it’s not that,_ he thought suddenly, the tension in his chest increasing. _Perhaps she has decided she doesn’t want you in that way after all…_

“Naomi,” he said, pausing to clear his throat. “If this is not what you want, I understand…”

“No!” she exclaimed, taking a small step forward, eyes blown wide. “No… I want this Cullen… Please, believe me… I want so much…” Her voice caught and she closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands with a sigh. Cullen felt some of his doubt dissipate, but he was still unsure what she wanted. He was beginning to suspect she didn’t know either.

“Naomi…” he said, taking her shoulders in his hands. “What can I do? How can I help?” She dropped her hands and he saw her eyes were shining with tears.

“You don’t need to do anything. I… it’s just… I need to tell you something,” she said abruptly, moving away to shut the open door behind him. Cullen watched her move, noting the way her shoulders were set with tension, that she couldn’t seem to keep her hands still, and had stopped sending her gaze in his direction, moving herself across the room from him. Her behavior put him on edge, and a ball of unease settled in his stomach.

“Naomi…” he said quietly, taking a step forward. “What’s wrong?” She put a hand up, freezing him in place.

“Just give me a moment,” she said. So Cullen waited, watching as she took deep breaths and turned in small circles, finally stalling and looking vaguely in his direction. “I know you think it’s because of Alec that I won’t kiss you… but it’s not. I actually think… if he was the only one this wouldn’t be so hard…”

Cullen couldn’t breathe, the unease growing and stilling his lungs. Alec… wasn’t the only one. What else had happened while she was here, supposedly under his protection? What had happened in her world? What man had succeeded where Alec had failed…?

How had he not realized how much more she was hurting?

“Naomi…” he breathed. She shook her head.

“No… just… listen, ok?”

So he listened.

In some ways, what he heard was worse than anything he could have imagined.

A child. She’d been a child. Forced to give her body for the pleasure of another. And not just any other. Family. A boy who was her playmate, someone she trusted, who she should have been able to trust.

He found it a wonder she let him near her at all.

 _I know I was lucky,_ she said. _So many experience far worse…_ As if that could excuse the boy’s actions. _No, not a boy. He would have been old enough to know what he was doing… to know he was doing harm._

Was he supposed to be grateful that not everything had been taken from her? That this person she loved and trusted had simply taken the innocence she didn’t even know she had. That he took an experience that should have been hers to share when she was ready, an experience that could certainly be awkward and fumbling, but ultimately pleasurable, not filled with fear and tears.

Perhaps he _should_ be glad that some things were still hers, for her sake. That she was still free to share the most intimate parts of herself, when _she_ wanted to.

But even that had been threatened.

No, he was not grateful. He was angry.

And he’d stayed silent too long.

“I… I understand if you don’t want to deal with this,” Naomi said, wiping away her tears, glaring at the ground. “If you would… prefer someone who would move faster with all of this…”

Prefer someone else? That was the furthest from his mind. He would gladly wait twice as long, three times, if it meant she could finally experience intimacy on her terms, know the pleasure that could come from being with another.

But would he be that person? With the way he had looked at her, the thoughts he entertained late at night? Was he any better?

“…I’m trying,” she continued, rambling. “I want to kiss you so much Cullen… and… more… But it’s just so new to me…”

No. He w _as_ better. He would be better for her.

“Naomi,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. “I’m not leaving… I _want_ to deal with this.” He remembered what she had told him below the glacier. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.” She looked at him with furrowed brows, the strangest mix of relief, confusion, and hope filling her tear-filled eyes. She suddenly choked out a sob, and Cullen didn’t hesitate to cross the room and pull her into another embrace, burying a hand into her hair while she cried.

And she didn’t pull away, and it felt right to finally feel like he could help. That maybe he could help her heal.

He didn’t know how long they stood in this way, but eventually her body stopped shaking, her sobs quieted. She shifted, pulling an arm from around his back to wipe the tears from her face, in addition to the moisture running from her nose. Everything about her face was red, from her cheeks to her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, staring at his chin. Cullen shook his head.

“There’s no need to apologize,” he said. Naomi sighed.

“I just… feel like I end up crying all the time around you,” she replied.

“I don’t mind,” he said. She frowned, looking at him with a quick glance.

“Well _I_ mind,” she pushed. “No one else cries like I do… Over every little thing…”

“I like it,” he said before he could think what it sounded like. But he quickly continued at her confused expression. “I mean… I don’t like that you cry. Maker, I wish you would never feel the need to cry again. But you’re not _afraid_ to cry, and it’s… refreshing,” he said, thinking he was likely just making things worse. “And laugh. You laugh so much… After living in the Circles for so long… it’s… nice, to know someone who laughs like you do. Even after what you’ve experienced.” _It helps me laugh,_ he thought. _And perhaps crying wouldn’t be so bad…_

“Oh,” Naomi murmured, back to staring at his chin. “I didn’t realize.” Cullen sighed, removing his arms from her body, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. She took a step back, working with her sleeves to finish returning her face to normal.

“Naomi, I’m sorry that I’ve pushed… If I made you uncomfortable…” Naomi shook her head.

“No Cullen, you’ve been fine. I… should have said something sooner. But I thought maybe I wouldn’t have to, that I could get over it on my own. But it was so much harder than I thought it would be…” She looked at him intently, colorful eyes roaming over his face, ending at his lips. She took a deep breath. “No… you’ve been perfect. It’s me that’s let my fear get in the way…” Her eyes returned to his. “Do you still want to kiss me?” she asked, voice hopeful. Cullen clenched his fists.

“I… yes,” he admitted.

“Do it.” Cullen felt his mouth drop open.

“What?” Naomi took a step forward.

“Please Cullen,” she pleaded, “just do it. I’m twenty-six years old… this happened almost fifteen years ago, and it’s been hanging over me ever since. The only thing holding me back are my fucking fears and habits. But I just need to break those habits, and I’m only afraid because it’s new…” Cullen shook his head.

“Naomi, you don’t have to do this now…” She took a step forward, reaching for his hand. He noted that she was shaking.

“I _want_ to Cullen. For weeks I’ve wanted to kiss you. Please…” she begged, gripping his hand. “I just… needed to know you wouldn’t care. That you’d understand…” Her eyes bore into his. “I… I’ve never felt this close. Please… if it’s not you, I don’t know who I’ll trust again…” Her voice was shaking, and he could see the way her eyes were growing wide, the way her breathing increased.

_She’s terrified._

He couldn’t kiss her like this. After what she had told him. For all he knew he would make it worse, confirm her fears that men would just hurt her.

But a traitorous part of him, much larger than he wished to admit, wanted to. Desperately.

“Naomi… Surely this isn’t what you want…”

“Yes it is!” she said, glaring at him. “I know what I want, Cullen. It’s not nice or romantic, but that was never going to happen. I want to leave this behind for good, and I need your help to do that. _Please_. If you don’t want to kiss me, that’s fine, but if you do, then do it!” She took a deep breath, smoothing her expression. “Please,” she whispered, imploring eyes boring into his. “I want this.”

_Maker forgive me._

“Alright,” he finally whispered. Naomi let out a long breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them again she was determined, and nodded.

“OK, I’m ready.” Cullen resisted the urge to shake his head. This was nothing like he had imagined their first kiss would be. And she didn’t look ready, one hand gripping his too tightly, the other clenched in a fist. She was staring at his nose, eyes slightly unfocused and still red from her crying, and he could see her chewing on the inside of her lip. And every muscle in her body looked like they were coiled to flee.

No, nothing like he had imagined.

He wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed. He knew what to do, but despite her insistence that this needn’t be romantic, he couldn’t help but feel she deserved more than a quick peck on the lips, or an awkward joining of tensed lips. Those should be reserved for the fumbling of teenagers, not two adults nearing the end of their third decade. Even if those adults were either inexperienced or out of practice.

He brought his free hand to cup her jaw, unable to dismiss the way she jumped slightly at the touch. But she just took a deep breath and lifted her chin, an attempt at a smile curling her lips.

And she deserved to have a chance to stop him.

He let go of her hand and cupped the other side of her face. She swallowed and closed her eyes, head nodding slightly. Cullen looked at her tensed lips and hesitated.

Surely she deserved better.

His eyes wandered, and when they fell on the small scar by the corner of her right eye, he knew what he wanted to do.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the small patch of healed skin, feeling the brush of eyelashes as her eyes fluttered open in surprise. He lingered, breathing in the warm scent of her skin, remembering she had gotten this particular injury when she had been brought to Thedas. He hadn’t known her then, but even in those early days he knew he wanted to protect her.

He pulled away, and watched as Naomi frowned slightly. “That’s not what I meant…” she said. Cullen just grinned, moving in to kiss her again, over a darker freckle he had noticed between her left eye and ear while she taught him her language.

“I know,” he murmured against her skin before pulling away. Her eyes were closed again, but he was pleased to note her lips had relaxed.

He kissed her cheek next, right where the single dimple appeared in the skin when she smiled. And he smiled himself when he felt her lips quirk slightly upward at his touch.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly as he pulled away. She nodded, lips now slightly parted, breathing no longer elevated in fear, but with something far more pleasant. Cullen felt his nerves die, instead looking forward to his next move, his own breath elevated in anticipation.

He brought his lips to the scar near the left corner of her mouth. The one Alec had left. He kissed her as close to her lips as he could without touching them, pulling her closer with a slight motion of his hands. Naomi shifted, and Cullen shuddered slightly when he felt her step nearer, hands now gripping his arms, keeping him close.

“Cullen,” she whispered, breath soft against his neck sending a shiver down his spine and a coil of heat turning in his stomach, her voice no longer fearful, or angry, but filled with want.

He wasted no more time.

Her lips were slightly chapped, but just as full as he had imagined when he gently captured them with his own. She gasped, pulling a whisper of breath past their joined lips, and Cullen felt every point of contact, from the brush of their noses against cheeks, to the faint pressure of her hips against his own. Her grip on his arms tightened, and when she nudged her lips closer to his, he couldn’t help but take the full sweep of her bottom lip entirely between his own, overwhelmed by her scent, an earthy combination of sweat and horse that was somehow pleasant coming from her skin, the faint taste of elfroot on her breath.

Too soon he came to his senses, and pulled gently away, reluctantly releasing her lips, releasing her face. He watched her open her eyes, blinking slightly as she focused on his own, and prayed he had done the right thing, and she would not regret letting him kiss her.

_But Maker… I don’t think I can bring myself to regret that…_

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Naomi couldn’t feel her face, her arms, her entire body. She had tried so hard to stay still, to fight the instinct telling her to pull away, to flee from Cullen’s touch, that when he _did_ touch her it had been overwhelming, shivers and over-firing nerves leaving her skin numb. She felt as if she’d lost control of her eyes, no longer able to focus on anything as her ability to sense touch took precedence over all else.

It was not unpleasant.

He worked his way across her face, placing firm, long kisses on her skin, on her scars. By the time he reached her mouth, she couldn’t have moved if she wanted to, mind focused entirely on those lips.

She needed to know what they felt like on her own.

The first touch of his lips on hers sent a jolt of heat straight to her core, pulling the air from her lungs. They were soft and warm and firm, and she wanted _more_ , trying to pull herself closer, the scratch of his scruff on her skin reminding her just how close they were, bodies brushing together and causing the heat between her legs to grow.

He shifted, pulling her bottom lip more urgently between his own. Naomi couldn’t move, unable to believe that Cullen, the most handsome person she had ever met, was kissing _her_. That she’d been bold enough to ask him to.

But he was there, breath warm on her cheek, hands clutching her face, lips wrapped around her own.

And she _liked_ it.

God, she liked it.

Then he was gone, the absence of his lips and hands leaving her cold. She tried to focus, remembering once again to breathe. She brought a hand to touch her lips, as if some remnant of the kiss could be felt with her fingertips.

 _I… did it,_ she thought, mental faculties returning in a rush. _I did it! It’s over… after all this time… And it was such a small thing..._ She looked at Cullen, golden eyes intently watching her, making sure she was alright. She felt a pang at the back of her throat.

_He understood… he didn’t leave. And now…_

So many things suddenly seemed possible.

“Naomi…” he said softly, hand gently taking hers. “Was that…? Are you alright?”

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes… I’m wonderful.” Then a horrible thought occurred to her, that Cullen had likely not found the kiss as enjoyable as she. “And you?” she asked, worriedly looking into his eyes. “Was that alright for you? I’m sorry if it wasn’t, I’ve never done that before…” She stopped, Cullen’s hand back on her cheek, a beautiful smile pulling up the corner of his mouth.

“It was perfect,” he said. Naomi felt tears at the back of her eyes, and tried to blink them back. Cullen may not mind how often she cried, but she still wished she had better control over her tears, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment by crying. Even if it was because she was happy.

_I love him._

How could she have found someone like Cullen? How could he be so beautiful and understanding, and make her feel safe despite being one of the largest, strongest men she knew? How did he want _her_?

But he _did._ He was here, had kissed her…

_Would he kiss me again?_

Naomi felt her face heat, continuing to wonder at her boldness. But this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? To overcome her fear, kiss the man she loved? It really had been such a small thing, but it changed everything.

She felt free, and in that moment, all she wanted was to kiss him again.

“Cullen,” she said, bringing a hand to his cheek, hair tickling her palm “May I… may I kiss you again?” His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but he smiled, ducking his head closer.

“Of course,” he replied. Naomi lifted her chin, tilting her head experimentally, a little unsure how to move forward, the numbness starting to return at Cullen’s sheer proximity.

_I can do this._

_I already did._

She closed the distance, gently pressing her lips against his, pulling his face closer with her hand. His hands found her hips, and she shivered, adjusting herself slightly, so his bottom lip was more firmly settled between her own. And then again, to try out the feel of his top lip, then the crease. Then she moved to the other side, realizing somewhere along the way that her body was flush to his, and Cullen’s lips had started to move slightly with hers…

“Naomi!” a man’s voice yelled, the door to her room slamming open. Naomi pulled away from Cullen, eyes flying open and heart racing. Cullen was just as startled, dropping his hands and stepping back as if he had been caught sneaking food before dinner. She turned toward the intruder, finding her brother backlit by the light streaming through the door, arms crossed.

_Will I ever get privacy in this place?_

“James!” she exclaimed. “You need to _knock!”_ He said nothing, eyes, thrown wide, travelling between her and Cullen. She blushed, realizing he had probably seen what they were doing before they had managed to pull away.

“What do you want?!” she demanded when he remained silent.

“I’m afraid that’s my fault!” Nassella said, slipping around James into the room, a little out of breath. “I was telling him about the rift and I mentioned you had helped us close it…”

“You were near a rift!?” Cullen asked. Naomi turned toward him, wincing inwardly at the brief look of anger that crossed his features.

“Yeah!” James added, coming out of his stupor. “What were you thinking?!” Naomi crossed her arms, glaring at her brother.

“I was _thinking_ that I would help my friend kill demons, and that I’ve been learning to use a bow for a reason!” James took a step forward, glowering.

“I thought you just wanted to defend yourself?!” Naomi sighed.

“Well it started out like that! We met a couple of demons in the woods, and I killed one of them…”

“Why were you in the woods?” Cullen asked, turning to Nassella. “I thought you were just going to Redcliffe?”

“Naomi wanted to do some hunting...”

“There are bears in the woods! Why would you go hunting…?!” James exclaimed.

“Quiet!” Nassella yelled, turning to James with a glare. Then to Cullen. Both men listened.

“Now, I’ll go over what happened,” she said to them sternly, “but you need to stay silent. I know you just care, but Naomi did a wonderful job taking care of herself, so you two need to stop worrying so much.” Cullen sighed. James scowled.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Nassella said, gesturing toward the door. “It’s a beautiful day.” James stomped from the room, and Nassella followed after throwing Naomi a wink. Naomi turned to Cullen shyly, finding his arms crossed.

“Demons?” he asked, voice slightly hollow. Naomi cleared her throat, trying to smile.

“I was going to tell you.” Cullen sighed again, moving toward the door.

“Maker’s breath…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to delete the author's notes from earlier in the story, but I would like to thank commenters Cullens_Khajiit and Kathleen for pointing out one major plot line that needed some work, and for some ideas their comments generated for future plot points. So... thank you!


	51. Lost Loves and New Lovers

Naomi ducked into the tent, stepping over an unrolled sleeping roll, either Dane or Erich’s… maybe even Dennet’s, for an open space of ground toward the back. She dropped her own roll and single bag onto the floor, rolling her shoulders before dropping to her knees to set up her sleeping accommodations for the night.

It was one day into their march for the Western Approach, and Naomi was already exhausted. She thought they’d moved quickly on their journey to Redcliffe, but despite their larger numbers, and the fact that most of the soldiers were on foot, they’d travelled further in one day than she had with just Nassella. Cullen had mentioned that the first few days would be intense, though they would reduce their pace eventually to recover their strength. But then the cycle would repeat, until they reached Griffin Wing Keep, all the way on the other side of Orlais.

Weeks Cullen said it would take, and after glancing at the map in the war room, Naomi believed it. She was actually surprised it would _only_ take weeks to get this many people that far. She knew her endurance had improved markedly over the year she had been in Thedas, but she suspected this journey would push her to her limits. They were travelling with just the bare necessities, and while many horses were burdened with loads of supplies and weapons, in addition to the wagons filled with food, most of the soldiers were lightly clad, allowing for the grueling pace.

But much of her exhaustion was actually due to the previous days, and the time she had spent helping Dennet prepare for the march. Dozens of horses had needed their shoes checked, many needed replacements. In addition, every horse received a thorough look-over, to reduce the chance that unexpected injuries or illnesses would occur on the road. And the packing. Packing had been grueling, and Naomi’s arms were still sore from the exertion.

Still, she was excited to be there, to not be left behind, even if it was strange to be marching with an army. Things were far more organized than anything she had encountered before, and she constantly worried she would get in the way, make a mistake. But things had gone smoothly so far, though Naomi knew that would likely change as they moved further into their journey.

And she hadn’t had to watch Cullen leave. Especially after finally kissing him. She sighed, feeling a little foolish for having waited so long, wondering if it really would have been so bad to let him kiss her that first day on the walls… or when she left for Redcliffe. She could have been kissing him for weeks…

 _No, I can’t worry about that. I’m kissing him_ now _, and that’s all that matters…_

Yes, she was kissing him now… in his office, the stables, that one time on the walls… She smiled, unable to deny that it made her _happy_ , made her feel normal, to finally feel only pleasure when she found herself in such close proximity to a man. She had always known it could be, but experiencing the reality far exceeded her expectations. Most surprising to her were the sensations Cullen drew from her entire body, not just her lips, when they kissed. Her sense of touch always elevated, every point of contact sending fire through her. But there was also the way she _smelled_ him, the leathery, oily, smoky spice of his skin sending her head into a haze every time. And his hands…

Naomi shook her head, pulling her thoughts back to the present. God, the things she had started imagining him doing with his hands… She was still too nervous to ask, to suggest he could explore more than just her hips and waist when they kissed, and she couldn’t be sure she still wouldn’t react badly to certain touches…

_No. I can’t think like that. I’m done thinking of that. Of him…_

So she finished unpacking, changing from the sturdy leather jacket, part of the armor Cullen and Nassella _and_ James had insisted she have for extra protection, into a thinner tunic. Immediately cooler, she turned to readjusting the bottles and packets of herbs she had stuffed into every crevice of her pack, remembering how amazing Dagna had been, helping her create equipment that allowed her to concentrate the healing substances in the herbs. She picked up one of the bottles, a nearly clear blue-green color for elfroot, and smiled. Normally, this size of bottle would produce only one dose of a healing potion. But now, this same bottle could provide at least three doses.

It hadn’t taken much to realize that boiling a solution of elfroot caused whatever active ingredient contributed to healing to boil away before the water, meaning concentration couldn’t be accomplished by normal means. A brief discussion about distilling alcohol, and a quick sketch, was all Dagna needed, and soon she’d produced for Naomi a smaller, modified distillation apparatus. Messing around with the contraption had produced promising results, though Naomi knew, with some more adjustment, the results could be truly amazing.

Still, Nassella had been incredibly grateful for what she had accomplished so far, realizing that more concentrated potions meant more could be taken out into the field. And Naomi had to admit that getting back into using chemistry and science was exciting, and she was a little disappointed that it would be months before she was back in Skyhold to continue the work…

“Naomi?” She put down her things and looked over her shoulder with a smile, seeing Cullen had ducked into the tent and was looking over the structure critically in the waning evening light.

“Hello,” she said, pleased to see him after the day’s march. He caught her eye and smiled.

“It seems like the tent will hold… You’ll be comfortable here?” Naomi smiled, standing to face him, glad to know she’d finally learned to put up a tent properly.

“Of course. I’ve slept in a lot of tents before.” He nodded.

“And how was the march?” Naomi shrugged.

“I’m tired, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. How about you?”

“I… I’m sore, and had a headache most of the day. But I expected that. It is nothing I can’t endure.” Naomi gave him a small smile.

“Just let me know if you need something… I brought plenty of supplies.” He nodded, stepping across the tent to stand next to her. Naomi felt her heart rate increase.

“I know, and that knowledge provides more relief than you realize.” Naomi smiled broader.

“I’m glad.” He studied her for a moment, then frowned slightly.

“It’s not too late to turn back, if you feel at all like you’ve changed your mind about coming…” Naomi shook her head.

“No Cullen. Dennet needs me. And you can’t treat me differently than anyone else just because we’re dating.” Cullen sighed, but nodded.

“I know.” He took her hand with a small step forward. “Of course, some things will be different about how I treat you…” he said, gaze taking on a decidedly heated quality. Naomi laughed softly, though she found her breaths coming shorter.

“True…” Cullen grinned, clearing his throat.

“I came to see if you had eaten…” Naomi swallowed.

“Not yet,” she said softly, flicking her gaze to his perfect lips. Lips that turned up even further in amusement. He settled a hand on her hip.

“We can find something together,” he suggested. She cleared her throat, knowing eating wasn’t all he wanted to do together.

“Sounds like a plan.” He pulled their bodies close and brought a hand to her cheek.

“May I kiss you first?” She lifted her chin slightly and smiled.

“Of course…”

It really was amazing, what she felt when she was with him. And not just the physical sensations his lips and hands could draw from her body. She felt _attractive_ when he kissed her, and trusting he would never do something she didn’t want meant she could actually enjoy his attraction as something _good,_ as something she didn’t need to fear. A single look could set her entire body on edge, and not because she was afraid. And the more she found him looking at her the more she believed he found her beautiful, a confusing notion she’d always wanted, but mostly found terrifying.

She felt safe with him, trusted him completely. She found him occupying a large part of the foundation she had been trying to build in this new and confusing, sometimes terrifying, place. She still felt uncertain, but every day she grew more confident that things could turn out alright, having him in her life.

Naomi couldn’t help but smile when he finally pulled away from the kiss. Everything she’d ever tried to reconcile about herself as a woman, with not only emotional but _physical_ desires, had started to fit when she was with him.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Cullen searched Naomi’s face as he pulled away, looking for any sign she was uncomfortable, that he had pushed too far. It worried him every time, especially considering how much _more_ he wanted to do. He sometimes felt he could kiss her for hours, shirk his duties and explore the soft curves of her mouth until hunger or exhaustion forced them to part. He’d forgotten how _good_ it could feel to hold someone, to be held, and when he felt her gasp, or brush her teeth accidentally along his lips, it took every bit of his self-control not to drive deeper, show her with teeth and tongue just how much more a kiss could be…

Control he felt slipping a little every day. Because every time he asked to kiss her, she said yes, and despite having never kissed a man before, was quickly adapting, and something he already found enjoyable was quickly elevating into something far, far better…

And every time she came away smiling, like she was now, he wanted to believe she enjoyed herself just as much. But he couldn’t bring himself to assume, couldn’t bear the thought of thinking she was fine and being wrong.

“Alright?” he asked. Her brows pulled momentarily together, her smile faltering slightly.

“Of course it was,” she said. “You don’t have to ask me every time Cullen…” He dropped his hands.

“I just want to be sure,” he explained. She nodded.

“I know, and you don’t know how happy that makes me, but…” She sighed. “You wouldn’t ask another woman that, would you?” He frowned.

“I might.” She looked skeptical.

“Maybe… but I doubt it.” He wanted to argue, but he knew that she was right. Her circumstances were never far from his mind. “I understand why you do it,” she continued, “It’s just… I _trust_ you Cullen. I’ll let you know if I don’t want something, and I’m sure you’d be able to tell anyway. You don’t need to dance around me so much.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“But if I don’t realize, if I hurt you…” She shook her head, face pinching slightly with emotion.

“You won’t Cullen,” she said. Then, after pause. “I don’t think you can. Not like that.”

Cullen felt his throat constrict, warmth spreading through his chest. She was so sure, so confident in him, placing faith in him as she had likely never done before. To have the trust of someone who had been so hurt in the past, even knowing his own failures, his past mistakes, was overwhelming. And he knew what a marvel it was, the extraordinary circumstances that needed to occur, to even bring them together.

All the more reason why he couldn’t disappoint her. Why he couldn’t lose her.

“I would still like to ask. For now,” he said. Her lips turned up in a small smile.

“Ok…” She took a step forward, hands behind her back. “Do you want _me_ to ask every time I want to kiss _you_?” He cleared his throat, the suggestion in her tone clear.

“I… don’t believe that will be necessary,” he replied hoarsely. Her smile grew as she took his jaw with her calloused hand.

“As long as we’re on the same page…” she said quietly, before leaning up to place a small, soft kiss on his lips. She was blushing pink when she pulled away, and ducked her head as she moved toward the tent entrance. “You wanted food, right? I know I’m starving…” Cullen shook his head to clear the slight fog her single, small kiss had left, and followed her from the tent.

Yes… it was certainly becoming more difficult to hold himself back. But he would, even if it took every last ounce of his Templar training to do so.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_The end credits began to roll, and Makenzie extracted herself from James’ arms._

_“Do you want to watch another one?” she asked with a small smile. James stared, overwhelmed by the sight of her. Her presence didn’t feel right._

_“I… sure,” he said. She nodded and got up to change the movie, settling back next to him as the machine read the disk. His unease grew._

_“Makenzie…” he said. She turned to him, chocolate eyes blown wide in worry._

_“Is something wrong?” James stared, desperately wanting to tell her no, that everything was fine. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Because something_ was _wrong. He couldn’t help but feel that her face was unfamiliar, that he had forgotten the set of her nose, the curve of her ears, the quiet sound of her voice…_

_And her lips. He couldn’t remember the feel of her lips._

_He kissed her, desperate for familiarity, to dispel the feeling that he shouldn’t be with her, that they no longer belonged together._

_It didn’t work, and he pulled away empty and confused. He heard the music of the movie start, a theme from the Lord of the Rings, and knew. Knew he_ didn’t _belong here, that his place was in a world not unlike Middle Earth, with swords and elves and magic. This couldn’t be real._

_“You’re not really here,” he said, throat constricting. Makenzie smiled, small and sad, and ran a hand along his cheek._

_“No,” she whispered, eyes shining with tears. James thought he might cry as well._

_“I miss you,” he whispered back. Makenzie nodded._

_“I know. I miss you too.”_

_“You think I’m dead,” he realized suddenly. She nodded, silent tears falling down her cheeks. “But I’m not!’ he said. “If you knew where I was, what I’ve accomplished…” Her thumb ran along his cheek._

_“I’ll be alright. As long as you’re happy,” she murmured. He frowned._

_“I’d be happier if I’d never left,” he said._

_“But you_ are _happy?” He hesitated._

_“Sometimes.” She smiled again._

_“Will you try to be happier more? For me?”_

_“What about you?” James asked, avoiding an answer. “Are you happy?” She tried to smile._

_“I will be, eventually,” she replied softly. James felt himself losing his battle to control his tears._

_“It’s hard,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I wish you were here.” She gripped him back._

_“You don’t need me,” she said. “So many people care about you…”_

_“It’s not the same,” he argued. She sighed._

_“Of course some things are different… But they love you just as much.” He didn’t miss that she said ‘they’._

_“Nassella doesn’t love me,” he said defensively. “She loves Solas…” She gave him another small smile, the kind she gave when she thought he didn’t understand something._

_“She doesn’t have to be your lover to love you,” she replied softly. Then she stood, moving toward the door to the room. James started to panic._

_“Where are you going?!” She turned back._

_“I should go…” James stood to follow her, reached for her._

_“Don’t leave,” he said, finally starting to cry. Makenzie shook her head, her own tears falling steadily._

_“I love you James, but I can’t help you anymore. Just please, let yourself be happy.” James couldn’t move. How could he be happy? He was torn from his home and the woman he loved, his brother killed, life thrown into danger, his sister nearly killed, attacked, another woman he thought he could love had rejected him, loved another, and he was currently marching with her to fight in a battle that could alter the history of this world._

_Yes, he’d found purpose in Thedas, a way to contribute, freedom from the passivity of his youth, but he was no longer sure if these profits were worth the costs._

_“I don’t think I can,” he said, voice breaking. Makenzie choked on a sob._

_“Please try,” she said._

_And then she was gone._

_\-----_

 

“…James…”

_Come back! Makenzie, please don’t leave…_

“James, wake up…”

_Don’t leave me again… not like this…_

“James? James are you alright…?!”

James woke with a start, frozen in place, realizing as he blinked to clear his vision that he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. In the next moment he comprehended that Nassella was leaning over him, large green eyes shining in the light of the moons filtering into the tent, brows pulled together in worry.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up quickly and wiping the water from his face. Nassella leaned back on her heels, shaking her head.

“Nothing… you’re the one crying James. Are you alright?” She asked, bringing a hand to his shoulder, concern clear on her face. James almost shied away from her touch. Almost.

“It was just a dream…” he said. _Just a dream…_

The strangest dream he had ever had, more like the realistic, lucid experiences Naomi described than his normally vague and barely-remembered dreams. He decided he could do without this type of dream ever again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He wanted to. Wanted to reveal to Nassella his hurt and confusion, his sudden longing for his familiar life and a woman he loved but could never have again. Longings he thought were gone, but had resurfaced with searing clarity and no provocation.

But he couldn’t, not while she loved another. He could not, would not, be so vulnerable, so weak, in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” he said. She narrowed her eyes.

“James…”

“No,” he said, growing angry. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She dropped her hand. “What did you want?” he asked.

“I need you…” she said. James caught his breath.

“What?” he whispered. Nassella cleared her throat.

“I mean, I need you to come with me. I received a report from Skyhold and… well, I’ll explain more with the others, but we need to leave for the Forbidden Oasis as soon as possible.”

 _Right,_ James thought as he followed Nassella from the tent, _she needs me. To use my fade-touched skin to fight for her, protect her. Needs me to send reports back for her…_

He faltered when he stepped outside the tent. It was still dark, only the slightest light in the east indicating that it was nearing morning. He hadn’t realized how early it really was.

Outside of Nassella’s tent a small group had gathered, including Solas, Dorian, Josephine, and Cullen. And as they approached, James saw Iron Bull enter the small circle of light shed by the torches set outside from the opposite direction, Naomi at his side. His sister yawned, moving around the circle to stand by Cullen where they exchanged small smiles. Her presence put James on edge. Nassella had indicated she didn’t intend to bring Naomi into the field anymore.

“Thank you for waking up so early,” Nassella said. “I know it’s last minute, but I received a report from Leliana. She says that Lace has reported from the Forbidden Oasis that Venatori are investigating a temple there, one that we have reason to believe is connected to the shards we’ve been finding all over the place.”

“Well, if the Venatori are interested, it’s safe to say we shouldn’t let them get ahold of whatever they’re looking for,” Dorian said, crossing his arms. James decided the mage was probably the least happy to be woken so early.

“No kidding,” Bull said. “Vints can’t be up to anything good.” Dorian snorted and Bull grinned.

“At least that much we can agree on,” Dorian muttered.

“We need to leave quickly,” Nassella continued. “If we’re to get to the Oasis to deal with the Venatori, and the rifts there, and make it back to Griffin Wing Keep in time to meet the rest of the army and attack Adamant. We can get on a ship in Jader that will take us into Orlais to cut down time, but we still need to hurry.” James nodded, already preparing a list in his head of what he would need to pack for the trip.

“We’ll need to keep in close contact, as well as with Skyhold,” Cullen said, glancing toward Naomi. “James, will be in charge of correspondence for the Inquisitor’s group, Naomi you’ll work with the main army.” Naomi nodded, and James felt a wave of relief that she would be staying with the bulk of the army. Though he had a slight moment of discomfort at the thought of leaving her alone with Cullen, the man she was now _definitely_ kissing, if not more…

_No. There’s no reason to worry about him. And Naomi seems happy, and can probably handle herself…_

“James,” Naomi added, bringing him out of his worries. “If you write back to Skyhold, make sure to use an easy, limited vocabulary. Leliana knows quite a bit of English, but since you don’t know what all I’ve taught her, it’s probably better to be safe. Use the code for words you’re not sure about.”

“Alright, that should be easy enough,” he responded. Naomi yawned again, covering her mouth with a hand.

“Sorry,” she said, turning to Nassella. “Is that all you need me for? I can start getting your horses ready otherwise. And Vir’nehn.” Nassella nodded.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Thank you.” With a final smile toward Cullen, Naomi left the circle, disappearing into the darkness of the camp. Nassella turned to everyone else.

“I’d like to leave within the hour. We’ll be travelling fast and light, so pack accordingly. And we’re going to the desert, so keep that in mind as well.”

A half an hour later, James helped Naomi load his bags onto Echo’s saddle, the horse stomping its feet nervously in the rocky soil, already anticipating the journey ahead. They worked silently, Naomi obviously exhausted from the travel and being woken so early, James lost in thoughts of his dreams. It still bothered him how r _eal_ it had seemed.

“Naomi,” he finally asked. “How did you notice your dreams were different?” She paused her work, yawning again.

“Well,” she said when she was done, “I didn’t really notice, Solas did. But I guess I first noticed when David died…” she trailed off, then sighed. “I went looking for him. And I knew what I was doing the whole time… and there was a barrier I crossed to get out…” She paused, frowning slightly. “But losing all of the protection when I dreamed happened gradually, and I didn’t really notice it. I think the first night I dreamed unprotected was after Alec tried to kiss me outside of the laundry. There was a demon there that night.” James bristled at the mention of Alec, but tried to stay focused.

“So now you… are aware that you’re dreaming? And you meet demons?” Naomi shrugged.

“Yes… But it’s more than that. Before I would dream about places from home, or about people, or they’d just be strange and unrecognizable. But now I dream seeing this world reflected in the Fade. In Skyhold it’s like I’m in the fortress, and there are memories and spirits that show Skyhold in different ways. Out here it’s the same, but more… vague. The terrain is altered more, and there are fewer memories to see. It’s mostly just… empty when I dream.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Why do you ask?” He sighed. What he had experienced didn’t exactly sound like her dreams after all.

“I had a strange dream last night…” he began, still not sure if he wanted to reveal what had happened to Naomi. “It felt… very real at first. But then I realized it was a dream _while_ I was dreaming…” He couldn’t continue, starting to feel the beginnings of tears once again. But he refused to cry.

“Are you afraid you’re going to dream like me?” Naomi asked. He shrugged.

“Maybe.” She went back to packing the saddle.

“I don’t know… it’s been over a year since we were brought here. I would think any changes would have happened by now. And I’m sure people with normal dreams sometimes realize they are dreaming. But maybe...”  She shook her head. “I really don’t know James. You should ask Solas if you’re worried.” James sighed. He was afraid she would suggest that, but he had no intention of asking the elf about his dreams.

Especially this one.


	52. Frustration

Nassella made her way down the hill from the camp, ducking under the branches of the few trees that led the way to the water’s edge. As she walked, she was reminded once again how amazing it was that such an oasis existed in the desert, and grateful that they had been able to remove the Venatori from the area, as well as the rifts and the _giant_ , so quickly, so she could actually enjoy the cool, clear waters in safety. And she intended to enjoy the waters fully, wash the grime and sweat of the last two weeks from her body, and cool her sun-burned skin before they had to leave for Griffin Wing Keep in the morning.

It had been grueling in the Oasis, even with the supply of water and increased shade, and Nassella was exhausted. She had hoped for a break, travelling with the army. A break from fighting and closing rifts, a chance to spend some time with her friends before they were once again forced to fight. But that was not her fate. Not anymore.

_It was foolish to think I would ever find some respite._

She was so lost in these thoughts, that when she emerged from the vegetation, she almost didn’t notice James before it was too late.

It was only her heightened hearing that alerted her to his presence before she could stumble fully into the open. As it was, she had already pushed her way halfway through a bush when she heard the splashing, and when she looked up was frozen in place by what she saw.

James was bathing, and Nassella could pick up every detail in the full light of the two full moons. He was waist deep in the water, working soap through his shoulder-length hair, wet skin highlighting perfectly every ridge and curve of the muscles beneath. And he was _muscular._ Nassella knew he was strong, as his achievements on the battlefield were evidence enough of that, not to mention that she had seen him shirtless before…

But she had never seen him like this. No, her previous glimpses had always been quick, as he changed out of his armor after a long day, or even more subtle hints as a sweaty tunic clung to his skin. Here, however, he was fully displayed, making no attempt to hide his nudity as be bathed in solitude. Nassella stared, unable to fathom how a man could be so large, so well-built. Aside from Bull, he was likely the tallest man she knew, and his strength just added to his already imposing figure. But unlike the Iron Bull, who as a Qunari was expected to be large, James’ figure was almost unexpected, certainly nothing she had ever seen raised with her clan…

Nassella blinked when James bent down to rinse his hair in the water, the spell momentarily broken. She retreated further into the bush, knowing he likely couldn’t see her with his human eyes in the darkness, but not wanting to risk being discovered.

But she could not look away. She knew much of James’ strength came from his healing abilities, Naomi explaining to her once how it gave him a greater capacity to acquire muscle. But it was still impressive, and for the first time she considered how their enemies must feel when they were faced with him on the battlefield, his large blade swinging and him showing no fear of being hit. Because James didn’t fear being hit, knowing his fade-touched body would heal any damage…

An ability that had been pushed to the limit this trip, Nassella knew, remembering with a twist in her gut their battle to destroy the giant that had previously called this very oasis home. She’d wanted to let the beast be, but they couldn’t risk it wandering into camp late at night, so it had been decided it must be removed. It had been James who offered himself up as bait to goad the giant so the others could attack and weaken it, arguing that his ability to heal made him best suited for the job. No one could offer a better alternative, so it had been James out front of the beast, keeping its attention as the rest of them attacked from behind.

Everything had been going well, until James slipped slightly on a rock hidden beneath the water’s surface. The giant, maddened with pain and nearly falling over from the cuts already suffered on its legs, had taken the opportunity to lash out, its fist finally finding contact with the normally agile warrior, a blow from above that would have killed a lesser fighter instantly.

He’d collapsed, disappearing beneath the water. Nassella had felt everything slow, all thoughts of destroying the giant gone as she moved to help her fallen friend. She’d vaguely realized from the corner of her eye that Bull had gone into a rage, finally bringing the giant to the ground with a blow that destroyed its knee. It was over then, as the Qunari warrior found the giant’s head with a few steps and another strike from his axe. By then Nassella had James by the shoulders, struggling to pull him above the water and to shore. She’d needed the aid of Dorian to drag him to the shallower water, thinking the entire time that it was already too late.

But he had breathed, though one side of his armor was bent dangerously inward, blood indicating it had pierced the skin. And his arm. His arm had been mangled nearly beyond recognition, bent all the wrong ways, bone and muscle bursting through the skin. His leg was better, though still bent and broken, the bones mercifully still contained by skin. And even as she watched, she could see his body attempting to heal the damage.

Bull had pushed her aside with little ceremony, deftly removing the plate armor from James’ body, freeing his torso to healing. And then he’d set himself on the arm, tugging and prodding, working the bones back into place beneath the skin before they could heal incorrectly, straightening the entire limb as he went with an efficiency that gave Nassella the impression it was not the first time he had helped treat such an injury.

And then his leg, which by then had nearly healed. Bull had needed to re-break the bone with a sickening crack that nearly made Nassella vomit, before setting it straight.

James had still been unconscious at that point, and Nassella had realized with dread that his breaths were coming shorter, open wounds still visible on his skin, seeping blood, unsure what further damage lay further within…

Solas had provided the last piece, a rejuvenating spell that had washed over James in a green wave, his wounds quickly closing completely and eyes fluttering open at last.

It had taken James over a day to restore his strength back at camp, his body’s energy so depleted from the healing effort. Time Nassella knew he likely spent pacing, hating being left behind as they moved the giant’s body from the water.

But he had healed, and as Nassella watched him work the soap he had picked up from where it was placed on a lilypad over his broad chest, arms, and back, realized there was no indication he had ever been injured, the smooth planes of his skin completely unblemished, his limbs whole and perfect…

Her ears pricked up, realizing after a moment of intense listening that he was _humming_ , singing a song beneath his breath. It made Nassella smile. Naomi often sang, but it was almost strange to see James like this, so relaxed and uninhibited, using this moment alone to sing a song likely from his home.

_He really is handsome,_ Nassella thought, studying his features. His oval face, like Naomi’s, was simple in bone structure, but contained fine, straight features in a pleasing and symmetrical arrangement, his strong jaw accentuated by the beard he had started keeping short while they were in the desert…

And his body was magnificent, chest and arms covered in a lighter dusting of hair than most humans she had observed, though it grew thicker as the trail down his stomach moved beneath the water…

Nassella caught her breath, realizing with a start that her heart rate had elevated, and a faint heat had started to grow in her stomach, a dampness developing between her legs…

And James chose that moment to take a step toward shallower water, revealing even _more_ of himself, and Nassella wondered for one, brief moment, what it would be like to wait until he walked fully from the water.

She turned away quickly, face heating with shame and confusion. How could she think such a thing? It was bad enough that she had watched him for so long in such an intimate way without his knowledge, but to want to see even more was entirely reprehensible.

But what truly disturbed her as she moved quickly through the foliage and wove around trees, silent in her movements despite her haste, was that she realized she was _aroused._ A realization that was doubly troubling, and not only because of her current involvement with another man.

Solas was the man she was attracted to, who caused her body to fill with heat and desire at the thought of him shed to nothing but skin, intimately twined with her in passionate embraces. It was _Solas_ who filled her fantasies and dreams, and though she often appreciated a handsome face, it was merely an observation made in passing. Her mind never wandered further.

But she was curious, she realized, a flash of James’ wet body assaulting her mind. And she wondered. Wondered what it would be like to be embraced by _him_ , her petite body nearly engulfed by his height and muscle, that smooth skin flush with hers…

Nassella stopped and shook her head, leaning her head against a tree. _What is wrong with me!? He’s human!_ Because _that_ was almost the worst part. She’d never found herself aroused by a human before, so suddenly attracted to someone who wasn’t an elf. In fact, she didn’t _want_ to be attracted to someone who wasn’t an elf, knowing she could never allow something to come of such a relationship, that she could never live with her clan again if she did…

_But will I ever live with them again anyway? Do I even want to return to that life, after everything I’ve seen? The people I’ve met…?_

She groaned, knocking her head lightly against the bark. Why was her life so complicated? Why had _she_ suddenly been thrown into this position, which such choices and responsibilities? Why did she ever decide to leave her clan in the first place? She opened her eyes, peering at the mark glowing a soft green in her hand.

_Why did I end up with the Anchor?_

But she couldn’t bring herself to regret, to imagine a life never being here in the Oasis, with the Inquisition, being the Inquisitor… It was not what she had ever expected, but now that she was here, she couldn’t imagine her life without the things she had learned, the places she had seen, the people she had met…

She couldn’t imagine a life without Solas. A life without the man she loved.

_I love Solas._ She stood up, turning with determination toward the camp. _Solas_ was the man she loved, not James. Yes, she liked James, cared for him even, but she didn’t love him. And even if she did find herself attracted to the man, it was just a physical reaction. A reaction she realized was likely misplaced, because while she kissed Solas as often as she could, and wanted much, _much_ more, the other elf had been restrained, keeping their physical relationship from moving much further, hands remaining above clothing and kisses passionate but ending far too soon. A restraint Nassella was finding more and more frustrating.

Yes, she was just frustrated, and had let that frustration momentarily get the better of her.

Something she was determined to never let happen again. She headed directly for Solas’ tent the moment she entered camp, intent on finding the elf and redirecting the arousal she still felt toward the man who truly held her heart.

“Vhenan,” he said in surprise when she entered his tent. “I thought you had gone to bathe.”

“I had,” she said, moving to take his hands. “But... James was already there…” she finished, faltering slightly over the other man’s name, sure Solas would pick up on her discomfort and know her traitorous thoughts.

But all he said in reply was, “Ah,” though the edge that usually accompanied his voice when he talked of the other man was present, furthering her resolve that Solas could never know. She placed her hands around his neck, pulling their bodies flush together.

“I wanted to see you anyway…” she breathed, pulling him immediately into a deep kiss, allowing no time for him to respond with words. Instead he wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss, hands wandering from the small of her back to cup her backside with gentle pressure. She pulled away when she ran out of breath, pressing her forehead to his.

“You know,” she said suggestively, giving him a small smirk. “We could both go to the water… enjoy the oasis together…” She pulled their lips back together, already hoping he would agree to join her and give her a new image of a man exposed and dripping from the waters of the oasis…

But he pulled away, cupping one of her cheeks with a hand. “I… do not think that would be wise,” he said, voice hitching slightly as he regained his breath. Nassella frowned, taking a step back.

“Why not?” she asked, trying not to sound angry. Or like she was pouting. “Solas… you must know how much I want you…” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, he reached for her shoulders.

“Vhenan… I want that as well, but it would not be wise. Not now. You must know that.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the wolf jaw hanging around his neck, knowing she was losing her battle to remain composed.

“No, I don’t think I do,” she said softly. She sighed, looking back at his eyes. “I love you Solas. I want to be with you.” Something like sorrow passed over his features, manifested most deeply in his eyes. But the look soon passed, and he stepped back, removing his hands from her body to place them behind his back.

“And if you became pregnant?” he asked softly. Her mind went momentarily blank, slightly taken aback by the turn in conversation. But now that he mentioned it…

“There are teas to prevent that,” she said, unwilling to concede that it was a valid concern. But being with child _was_ the last thing she needed while Corypheus still lived. Solas shook his head.

“None of which is entirely effective. It is something we cannot risk.” Nassella stared at him, and knew he was right. Infuriatingly right.

“There are other things we could do,” she said, still desperate for intimacy. “We don’t have to have sex…” She was pleased when his eyes darkened slightly, gaze shifting from her face to her body, his voice pitched slightly lower when he spoke.

“I... suppose that is true.” He shook his head. “But if things were to get out of hand…” Nassella moved back to his space and wrapped her arms around his waist. She looked up with a smile, pleased to see his resolve potentially cracking.

“I believe you could control yourself,” she whispered. He cleared his throat, wrapping his own arms around her.

“And you?” She grinned, standing on her toes, angling her face for his.

“We could find out…”

“Nassella…” he warned. She sighed, stopping her advance.

“I’m sorry,” she said, realizing he was growing uncomfortable. “I understand your hesitation… I just wish we didn’t have to be so careful.” Solas pulled her tighter, leaning in to kiss her, his lips soft and tender on hers. He gave her a small smile when he pulled away.

“I will think on it,” he murmured. “But know this war will end, and then so much will be made possible.” Nassella nodded, realizing that if it was anything like the last time he had said something similar, it would be months before they moved their physical relationship further.

She would just have to keep herself satisfied in the meantime.

And never run across James while he bathed again.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide…”

Cullen rubbed his temples, as if the pressure would reduce the searing pain in his head. He suppressed a groan, convinced it had just gotten worse.

“I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost…”

Cullen cracked open his eyes attempting to focus on the parchment spread out on the makeshift table in his tent. He’d sent for Naomi nearly an hour ago to translate the missive from Leliana, but for some reason she had yet to appear. He had tried to get through the message himself, but he was slow enough at reading this new language as it was, nevertheless while his mind was assaulted by a migraine. And the aching… he couldn’t remember a time when his joints ached as they did now.

_Where is she?_ he thought angrily as the words swam in front of his eyes and his head pounded. _These reports are important… I can’t wait around all day…_

He pushed the paper away, once again closing his eyes.

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm…”

It was several more minutes before he finally heard hurried footsteps approach his tent, the flap pushed aside without hesitation or permission.

“Cullen!” Naomi said, out of breath. “You needed me? I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner…” Cullen turned, squinting at the light streaming through the open tent flap, and leaned against the table.

“What took you so long?” he asked, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. “I’ve been waiting over an hour to have this report translated…” He stopped, the sudden volume of his voice making his head pound. Naomi frowned.

“I would have come right away, but Dane got kicked in the head by a horse. I had to help make sure he was alright…”

“Couldn’t someone else have done that?” he growled, closing his eyes to control the pain.

“Well… yes, but I was right there, and had some herbs he needed. And the horse got away, and Liberty’s one of the only ones fast enough to catch a runaway…”

“Others could have taken care of all of that,” he said, rubbing his hand once again on his temple.

“I’m sorry Cullen, I was just trying to help…” He heard her cross the tent, her hand finding his elbow. “Cullen… are you alright? You don’t look well…” He opened his eyes to find her own searching his face, concern clear on hers.

“It’s nothing,” he said, standing straighter. “Just a headache…” He found a hand on his forehead, her brows pulling together.

“You have a fever, and you’re sweating. This isn’t just a headache Cullen…” She directed him toward his makeshift bed, pushing on his shoulders until he sat with a groan. He watched through cracked eyelids as she swung a pack from her back, kneeling on the ground to dig through the contents, swinging her braid over her shoulder when it got in her way.

“When did this start?” she asked, head nearly buried in the pack. Cullen sighed.

“Nearly three days ago now…” Her head snapped up, frown pinching her features together.

“What?! Cullen, you have to tell me sooner about this…”

“I thought it would pass,” he responded. She huffed, but reached to place a hand on his knee.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” she said softly before returning to the bag. “And how bad would you say this one is?” Cullen sighed, comparing his current migraine to those he had previously suffered like Naomi had told him to.

“A nine,” he said. “Not to mention my joints are aching again…” Naomi looked up again, shaking her head.

“That doesn’t make sense…” she muttered in a tone that worried Cullen.

“What is it?” he asked. Naomi sighed, fiddling with a small vial she had pulled from the pack.

“Well… I don’t know much about withdrawal from drugs, but from what I _do_ know, these intense physical episodes of pain shouldn’t still be happening. Cravings, yes, but I would have thought the pain would be gone by now. Or getting weaker, not _stronger_.” She stared at the vial, mind wandering in thought.

“What do you think that means?” he asked her next. But the pain didn’t surprise him. Templars often died from withdrawal, after all.

“I… don’t know. Lyrium may just be different than any drug I’ve heard of. And I could be wrong about what withdrawal should be like. It’s not like I studied this type of thing back home…” She stood suddenly, making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “I just wish I could find more information about lyrium! But there’s hardly _anything._ And the dwarves don’t research it, or _tell_ anyone what they _do_ know… Oh!” she said suddenly, mouth dropping open, gaze shifting to stare into a corner of the tent. She mouthed something, though Cullen couldn’t tell what she said, her brows moving back and forth as she thought. When her eyes returned to him, they were narrowed as she inspected him critically. A look that put him slightly on edge.

“Is something wrong?” he inquired. Naomi shook her head slowly.

“I was just thinking about something I did read about lyrium, and something Dagna said once… if lyrium is _alive…”_ she trailed off. Then the frustration returned. “I just don’t know! And out here I can’t test any theories…” Cullen stood, despite his pain, taking her shoulders in his hands.

“Naomi, it’s alright. You don’t have to solve this today.” She glared at him, but eventually sighed, nodding reluctantly.

“I know.” She looked at him with determination. “But I _will_ figure it out,” she said. “There’s just something about the whole arrangement that bothers me. _Especially_ how little everybody knows about lyrium, and it’s _still_ used all of the time! We did that in my world you know. Using things without knowing the dangers. But so many problems could have been avoided with the right research…” Cullen stared at her, once again in awe that she cared so much, had taken it upon herself to help him. He had no reason to expect such aid from anyone, but to get it from _her_ was unfathomable. She’d been in this world barely a year, well within her rights to focus on protecting herself and her own interests. But she was helping _him,_ of all people.

He didn’t know what she would find with her inquiries. He was not optimistic she _would_ find anything, but the very fact she was willing to look left his chest warm. And he couldn’t deny that her questions were intriguing, leaving him wondering what would have happened if he had stopped to ask them himself.

She moved away, and Cullen sank back to the bed, dizzy with pain. “…I need to go get some water, but I’ll be right back.” He watched her leave, suddenly remembering the way he had greeted her arrival, with frustration and anger and accusations. He cringed, remembering how she had barely reacted, quickly recognizing his discomfort and directing her attention toward him. It was unworthy of him, to question her so, especially considering what _had_ made her late. She was not one to shirk her duties.

She deserved better from him.

She soon returned with a steaming bowl of water, immediately sinking to the floor, sitting cross-legged and mixing a concoction of herbs and vials of liquid. Cullen watched her, thinking how beautiful she looked with her brows pulled together in concentration, her tongue sticking out slightly between her full lips as she made careful measurements. Soon, she was done, handing the bowl to him.

“Here,” she said softly, sitting next to him. “This should help.” He sipped the liquid, the scent itself providing relief.

“Thank you,” he murmured, then glanced at her. “Forgive me for my shortness earlier. I did not mean to sound harsh when you arrived.” Naomi grinned, putting a hand on his knee.

“It’s fine, I understand.” Her smile grew. “Lord knows I’ll probably need such understanding from you someday.” Cullen snorted, taking another sip.

“I’m not sure you’re capable of being harsh,” he said. She laughed softly.

“You’ve never seen me with my entire family.”

“No, I suppose I haven’t,” he said, regretting immeasurably that he never would. She squeezed his knee.

“You needed me to translate something?” He nodded, pointing toward the desk with his bowl.

“Yes, it’s there. A report from Leliana. I’m afraid I was unable to read much of any of it.” She stood and moved to the desk, picking up the parchment to read what was written while he finished his tea, feeling his pains subside slightly as the medicine took effect. And he could finally take a moment to admire the curve of Naomi’s ass as she faced away from him, bent slightly over the table as she wrote. He remembered how good that particular feature had looked when he watched her spar with Cole the previous day, as she crouched and pounced, long and powerful legs carrying her around the ring more gracefully than he had seen her before…

She turned quickly, face distraught and pulling him from the wanderings of his mind back to the present. He stood quickly.

“We need to talk to Josephine right away, and send word to Nassella…” she said, already moving toward the tent’s entrance. Cullen followed a step behind, migraine now a manageable ache.

“What was in the report?” She looked at him, worry filling her features.

“There are people attacking Nassella’s clan. They’re asking for help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verses from the Chant of Light used, property of Bioware


	53. On the Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it's clear from the text, but this chapter spans several days.

Nassella stood with arms crossed on the eastern wall of Griffin Wing Keep, staring unseeing out over the desert, imagining her gaze carried beyond the dark horizon, over the whole of Orlais, to the forests of the Free Marches until it landed on the crimson aravels of her clan. On her mother sharpening her blades at a corner of the campsite, her sister practicing her magic in a clearing with their Keeper. She imagined them happy, she imagined them safe.

But they weren’t. They were in danger.

That in itself shouldn’t be entirely surprising to her. Her clan was always in danger: from hunger, wild animals… But this was different. The unrest and chaos had spread, threatening to destroy her clan entirely.

She felt her eyes start to prickle with tears, but she clenched her hands around her arms to stop them. She refused to cry. Crying would accomplish nothing. But it wasn’t easy.

It was why she was on the walls. She needed to be far away from the others, until she knew her emotions would be under control. She could hear the distant sounds of the Keep, as the Inquisition savored a final night of relaxation before they moved to attack. There was laughter, joking.

But she couldn’t laugh, not now. The others didn’t have the constant fear of failure, didn’t even know what failure would actually look like. Only she and Dorian truly knew, had experienced that future. The outcome of this battle would determine the future of Thedas. Would ensure that an army of demons never descended to devastate the world.

But even victory here might not save her clan.

After everything she’d done, after everything she’d given up, it still might not be enough. She was fighting to make the world a safer place for her family, had reconciled becoming the Inquisitor because of what she could do for her clan. But she hadn’t done enough, because now _bandits_ were taking advantage of the chaos to attack her family.

_I haven’t done enough._

She heard a sound, soft, as someone approached slowly.

“Ness?” Naomi whispered, and Nassella felt her presence at her side. Nassella didn’t move, continuing to stare across the sand and stars. “Ir abelas,” Naomi continued, making Nassella’s throat constrict. “Are you alright?”

Was she alright? Nassella narrowed her eyes. She was far from alright. She wanted to hit something, scream, run… but she could do that even less than cry. No one could see the turmoil in their Inquisitor. They couldn’t know she was close to breaking.

Except, if she allowed anyone to see her vulnerability, it would be Naomi.

“No,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “But I will be,” she continued, turning toward Naomi. Even in the night, she could see the woman’s eyes were filled with sorrow, and she felt more of her exterior break. “I just wish I could help them myself!” she said. “I can’t even rely on the Inquisition’s people because they’re all here! I have to trust some shem noble to help a group of Dalish elves…” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

_Keep it together._

She felt Naomi’s arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. One she gladly returned.

“Nassella, you’re one of the most resourceful and resilient people that I know,” Naomi said quietly. “I know you learned that from your clan.” Naomi pulled away, taking her hands between her shoulders. “Don’t lose hope.” Nassella set her jaw. Nodded.

“They are Dalish,” she said with determination. “It’s who we are.” She looked back toward the east. “The world’s been trying to destroy us for centuries, and it hasn’t been able to. They will fight.” She blinked away a tear.

_And I will fight. I will destroy the Warden’s plans, and then I will go to them and help…_

“Is there anything I can do?” Nassella looked at Naomi. At the Fade-touched woman who was accurate with a bow, quick on her feet, had already volunteered to fight demons once before…

“Would you fight?” Naomi looked startled and Nassella immediately regretted what she had asked.

“What?”

“Oh Naomi… I’m sorry. No, you don’t have to fight. I just…” she sighed, staring back to the east. “We just _have_ to stop the Wardens… Every last person could count…”

“It’s alright…” Naomi said quietly. “I know that…” They stood in silence for a moment. “I just hadn’t considered it a possibility,” Naomi finally whispered. “I want to help you Ness but… I don’t think I could do it. Not a battle.” Nassella continued to regret her impulsiveness.

“Forget I asked,” she insisted. Naomi nodded slowly, then sighed, looking to her.

“Is there anything else?” she asked quietly. Nassella took her hand, pulling Naomi to sit next to her on the wall.

“Will you just sit here? Listen?” Naomi squeezed her hand.

“Of course,” she whispered.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi stared out across the Fade, arms wrapped around her knees. She wrinkled her nose when a stale breeze wafted from the direction she was facing, and frowned. The Fade was always different, strange… but this was something else. For a few days she’d felt uneasy while dreaming, but it wasn’t until they left Griffin Wing Keep that she began to get a sense for the problem.

The Fade was changing as they approached Adamant. It was darker, more grotesquely twisted, and she no longer felt entirely safe while she was there, worried that she wouldn’t be able to handle what she might meet. Before, her experiences in the Fade had been tied to her own emotions and the things she had recently experienced in her waking world. But now… the Fade itself was changed, and she felt it affected her more than she could influence it.

And the darkness only grew on the horizon in the direction she was facing.

For the first time in a long while, she was uneasy, on edge… afraid.

She thought of what Nassella had asked her two nights before. She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t immediately agreed, but she had hesitated to refuse. Because she knew Nassella was right. The Wardens had to be stopped, and some part of her wanted to help her friend do that.

And she knew she was in an even better position to do so than she had been when she asked to assist in closing the rift. She glanced toward the targets she had constructed from thought, several plates on a series of wheels. Every plate was broken. She’d practiced for weeks to get to this point in the Fade, and already knew her aim and speed had improved in the waking world. It was what she had wanted, after attacking the rift. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to use those skills again.

A rock clattered behind her and she turned with a start, reaching for her bow. She scrambled to her feet when she saw a strange man with dark hair only a few paces away, her heart rate increasing.

“Who are you?” she asked, clenching the wood between her hands. The man smirked, looking her up and down. She remembered she was dreaming.

“Does it matter?” he asked, taking more steps toward her. Naomi pulled an arrow from her quiver, notching it and drawing quickly, stomach clenching in fear.

“I know what you are,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “I’ll shoot you if you get any closer.” The man laughed.

_Why do they always fucking laugh?_

“Please,” he sneered, coming closer. “You wouldn’t hurt anything…” He stopped, looking down at the arrow protruding from his chest. Then he collapsed to the floor. Naomi lowered her bow, taking a deep breath.

_It’s not real, it’s just a demon…_

Suddenly someone grabbed the arm holding her bow, tugging her back. She found herself pressed against another man, his hand clutching her backside, holding them together.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, moving to kiss her. Naomi turned her head, shuddering when he kissed her neck instead. He moved his hips against hers, and she struggled to pull away, with no success. With her free hand she groped for an arrow, gripping one by the feathers. She pulled it from the quiver, flipping it in her fingers to clutch it just above the point, and drove it has hard as she could into the man’s arm.

He howled, releasing her, and she took the chance to pull a knife from her belt, shoving it into the man’s stomach. When this second demon had dropped, she turned in a circle, searching for any more.

“They’re just demons. It’s not real. I’ll be fine…”

“Naomi?” She spun around, drawing another arrow, but relaxed slightly when she saw Solas. “Are you alright?” Naomi took a deep breath, blinking to keep from crying.

“No! I’m not alright!” She yelled, gesturing to the men on the ground as they slowly disintegrated into the air. “I hate this! Do you know how many times I’ve been assaulted here?!” Solas took a step forward.

“It is the Fade… It is not real.” Naomi scowled.

“So what? It feels real enough!” She turned away, throwing her weapon to the ground. _I can’t handle this. What will I do when I see Cullen tomorrow…?_

“I’m sorry Naomi…”

“Why?!” She asked, turning around angrily. “Why did this happen all of a sudden? I haven’t encountered anything like this for months.” She felt herself begin to cry. “I thought I was over this.”

“Fears are not always easily overcome,” Solas said. “They can be managed, but that does not mean they are gone.” Naomi crossed her arms, staring toward the horizon. “As for why this happened now… You have certainly noticed the changes in the Fade.”

“Yes,” she grumbled, squinting toward the darkness. “It seems sick.”

“An acute observation.”

“I don’t like it,” she added, glaring at Solas.

“Nor should you.” She frowned. Solas began pacing. “Powerful demons can sometimes come to control vast regions of the Fade, feeding off of the emotions of not one, but hundreds, even thousands. Their influence can spread, corrupting all that it encounters, turning any spirits in the area into demons. It is still too early to tell, but I believe we are approaching one such domain.” Naomi grimaced.

“So that’s it? One big demon makes a bunch of smaller demons and I find myself assaulted in the Fade?” She glared at the ground.

“You defended yourself well.”

“So what?” Naomi said. “I still have to deal with them looking at me, touching me… even if I can fight them off eventually.” She felt a few tears escape.

“I believe it will be best if we spend our dreams together for the duration of this endeavor. This area of the Fade will be dangerous for a Dreamer in the coming days… especially one who is not a mage.”

“And after this?” she asked. “It will happen again, won’t it? If I meet another demon?” Her shoulders slumped. “I have to deal with this forever.”

“It is part of who you are,” Solas said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know you have had difficulty adjusting, but I know you can learn to live with this fully, and enjoy it. You have learned to defend yourself. Despite everything, you have pursued a relationship with the Commander. You have said you enjoy exploring the memories of Skyhold contained within the Fade. You have been given an incredible gift. Do not let these isolated events color the entire experience.”

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Yes… this was part of who she was. It was like everything that had happened with her cousin and Alec… she couldn’t change it, just like she couldn’t change how she dreamed. But she had a measure of control over her own reactions… It was a perspective she needed to keep, no matter what.

And it wasn’t really the fault of the way she dreamed. It was the effects of demons that inhabited the Fade. They were the crux of the problem. Manifestations of the very worst qualities of human nature, that attempted to enter the physical world by twisting and possessing the living, that were singularly intent on destroying when pulled into the physical world. These creatures that haunted her dreams, and were at that moment being pulled into the world by the Wardens, threatening to haunt her waking world as well. And not just haunt it. Destroy it for Corypheus.

How could she stay behind while everyone she knew and loved risked their own lives to keep this future from happening? How could she refuse to help keep these demons at bay, _knowing_ she could fight? How could she justify hiding at camp, when she had already volunteered to fight once before?

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James looked north, the horizon a dull pink as the sun prepared to rise in the east, knowing they would be on the road within the hour.

They were close, another day’s march from Adamant. And they were just in time, it seemed, as the reports coming from the scouts watching the fortress indicated activity was growing, and they frequently saw strange lights bleeding over the walls at night.

Soon. Soon they would attack and determine their future. James clenched his fists and rolled his shoulders. He felt healthy and strong, no residual pain from the giant’s injury plaguing his body. He was as ready as he could be, and pleased, because Nassella had made sure to ask he be by her side during the battle.

Of course, so would Solas, Iron Bull, and Dorian, but James was glad for that as well. They had fallen easily into a fighting unit while in the Oasis, and James knew it would make attacking Adamant somewhat easier, as they would not have to relearn to fight with anyone new. A consideration James knew Nassella had likely made as well while choosing her party.

And this time, he knew Nassella was not bringing him along to send reports. No, she wanted him with her because he could fight, because she believed he would help her succeed.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked to see Naomi standing next to him. She gave him a small smile.

“We’re almost there,” she said. James nodded.

“I know… I just want to get there and get it over with.”

“It’s not going to be easy.” James rolled his eyes.

“I know that Naomi. I’m not exactly new at this anymore.” She sighed, annoyed.

“I _know_ you know that, I’m just… Sorry.” She crossed her arms. James knew she was worried.

“It will be alright Naomi. We’re ready for this.” She frowned.

“I hope so…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sighed again.

“I just know that there’s something over there… the Fade is scary here. And it just gets worse in that direction.”

“But we’re not in the Fade,” James replied. Still, he felt himself tense.

“True. But there will be demons,” she said angrily.

“Yeah, I know.”

“James, have you had any more strange dreams?” He cleared his throat.

“No. I haven’t had another dream like that.” Except, that wasn’t entirely true. Because the last few nights he had had nightmares, stumbling through strange, dark landscapes, knowing he was chasing something, but never knowing what. Until last night. Last night he had found Nassella’s broken body in his path. He’d woken immediately, the shock of seeing her pale form ripping him from his dream. It had been near morning, so he had not gone back to sleep. He didn’t think himself superstitious, but the dream unsettled him, increasing the resolve he had to make sure Nassella stayed safe.

But they were just dreams. It wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t need to tell his sister about them. Naomi sighed.

“Good…” They stood for a moment in silence. “James,” she finally said. “I think I want to help attack Adamant.” James felt a jolt of panic.

“What?!” he demanded, turning toward her. “That’s crazy…”

“Why?” Naomi interrupted. “A few months ago you said I should do more. That it was selfish to just want to protect myself.” James grimaced.

“Well, that was before…”

“What? I’ve just gotten better at fighting since then. You’ve seen me use a bow.” James clenched his fists.

“I know you have, and I know I said that, but… I can change my mind! You could get hurt!” Naomi’s nostrils flared.

“And so could you, but I’m not trying to talk _you_ out of it!” James shook his head.

“You said you didn’t want to kill.”

“But these will be demons!” She exclaimed. “I’ve encountered them in the Fade, but now I’ve seen them out here too. I understand what you’ve been fighting… You’ve been risking your life this entire time…” She sighed in frustration. “I don’t know… This is our home now James. What if I want to help protect it like you do? Protect it from things that can’t be dealt with any other way?” James studied her, knowing she was stubbornly working herself into a corner. And he couldn’t come up with a reason for why he should stop her. Not if this was what she wanted. What she had already decided. But he had to say something.

“But you’ve said yourself that fighting isn’t the only way to help.”

“Yes… but _here_ there has to be fighting. And I can do that now…” James didn’t know what to say. This was what he had wanted her to realize back when he first asked if she would fight. That there were some things worth fighting for. But now that she realized that, he was regretting it. If she was hurt, if she _died,_ he would be alone…

_No. Not entirely alone. But still…_

“Naomi, if something happens…” She let out a huff of air.

“I’m not helpless James, stop acting like I am.” She looked at him. “And if something happens to you… Well, you’re not helpless either.” She sighed. “I don’t like living with the idea that you could…” She shook her head. “What if one person _could_ make a difference? You’ll need every person who can fight here. What if me coming along means someone doesn’t die?”

 _And what if you coming along means_ you _die?_

But it wouldn’t be so easy for her to die. It wasn’t as if she would fall to a wayward arrow or single blade.

“I don’t know,” James said, remembering that Naomi would be just as devastated if he didn’t return. Or if Cullen died. Or Nassella…

“There are demons James! They’re terrifying and need to be killed!”

“I know,” he said. She glared at him.

“Why aren’t you trying to talk me out of this?”

_Because you’re stubborn and don’t listen to me…_

But it was more than that. Nassella had made it clear back at Skyhold that Naomi was capable of taking care of herself. And if Naomi felt she should fight, how could he stop her? He had an idea what they would be up against… It was possible they would need all of the help they could get.

“Because you’re right,” he grumbled. “It’s up to you to decide.” She looked out over the desert, toward the northern horizon.

“That’s… not what I expected from you,” she said. She took a deep breath. “I _want_ to do this. I can’t even be afraid I might die like the others… because it will take more. How can I watch everyone I know risk their lives like this, knowing I have no good reason to stay behind? I’m here, I’ve already fought demons before, my skin is fade-touched…” James shook his head.

_How did this happen?_

“I need to talk to Nassella, and Cullen, but I need to do this…” James took some comfort in that, as he looked north. He doubted Cullen would agree to such a thing.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Cullen stood on a slight rise, arms crossed, studying Adamant Fortress. He nodded slightly, pleased at what he saw. It was just as their information had indicated. It was an old fortress, built before the age of modern siege equipment. Even now, crews were making final calibrations, moving the trebuchets and battering ram into position. The Wardens knew they were there, had barricaded themselves in the fortress, but he was confident the Inquisition would be able to overcome the defenses easily. Whether or not they could handle the demons he knew were already inside was another matter, but as long as they could control the chokepoints he’d identified within the fortress, he knew their chances would be improved.

He glanced toward the western horizon, noting the position of the sun. In three hours it would be dark, and they would attack, using the darkness as greater cover, allowing ladders to be used for scaling the walls…

He turned away, walking back toward the camp. He had gleaned no further insight from staring at the fortress. Their plans were set, several contingencies in place. All that was left was to attack, and pray that their preparations had been sufficient.

He was almost to his tent when he passed Naomi and Sera crouched on the ground, heads together. He stopped, staring at the brunette woman dressed in armor, hair freshly braided and trailing down her back…

This was the one contingency he had not planned on. In fact, the possibility that Naomi would _join_ the attack had never crossed his mind.

He had been speechless when Nassella had told him Naomi had asked to fight. He’d listened with his stomach twisting as the Inquisitor calmly explained that she had agreed, could find no reason to keep Naomi from helping in their cause.

“No,” he had finally found the voice to say. Nassella had crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows.

“Is that a decision made as the Inquisition’s Commander, or as her lover?” He’d scowled at the implication.

“I do not believe she can handle it,” he’d said through gritted teeth. Those eyebrows had gone even higher.

“And I disagree.” But then she’d sighed, placing a hand on his arm. “Cullen, I’ve seen her fight. She can do this. I will not turn her away from helping. And neither will you.”

But as he watched Sera hand Naomi a small pouch, he clenched his fists. He may not be able to order her to stay behind… but he could try to convince her to do so. Again.

“Naomi,” he said, inwardly grimacing at his clipped tone. _Not a good start…_

Naomi and Sera looked over their shoulders. Without smiling Naomi stood with a single smooth motion, attaching the pouch to her belt.

“Yes?” Cullen gripped the pommel of his sword. He knew if he was going to convince her to stay back, he needed to stay calm. Getting angry had accomplished little the day before.

“I would like to speak with you,” he said, attempting to soften his voice. Naomi sighed and turned toward Sera.

“I’ll find you in a little bit,” she said. Sera cackled.

“Don’t let him wear you out too much. You’ll need all your strength for tonight!” Cullen flushed red.

“Alright,” Naomi said when Sera was gone. Cullen turned and walked toward his tent, trying to think of what he would say first.

_Naomi, I can’t let you…_

_Naomi, I know you want to help…_

_Naomi, please don’t do this…_

He ducked into the structure, but before he could turn and stumble through some sort of argument, Naomi spoke.

“Cullen, you can’t talk me out of this.” He turned toward her, clenching his sword. How had he not realized how stubborn this woman could be?

“Why?” he asked, stepping toward her. “Why do you insist on endangering yourself like this?” She crossed her arms, colorful eyes narrowed.

“Well what about you? Why do you insist on endangering yourself? Why did you decide to fight?” Cullen ran a hand along the back of his neck.

“It’s not the same,” he said, struggling to keep the volume of his voice low. She huffed out a laugh.

“Yes it is. You’re doing this to help people, and I want to do that too.”

“But I have years of experience…”

“Cullen, how many soldiers have you added to your ranks since Haven was attacked? Some of them haven’t even seen demons before. But I have! I’m not less experienced than some of the others under your command.”

“Naomi, you have not been training as they have…”

“I’m an archer,” she said, pointing outside. “And I’ve been training for _months_. You watched me with the others earlier today. I’m not the best, but you would never turn someone else who could shoot like I do away.” Then she pointed to the exposed skin on her hand. “ _Especially_ someone whose skin couldn’t even be cut.” Cullen didn’t know what to say. She was right. If she was someone else, _anyone_ else, he would jump at the opportunity to have someone like her among his ranks.

But she _wasn’t_ anyone else.

“Is it because I’m a woman?” she asked, anger in her voice. The absurdity of the question focused him.

“What? Of course not,” he said. He took a step forward, took her hand. “But I know you Naomi. A battle is not like a skirmish at a rift. It will be dark and chaotic, people will die…” She glared in another direction.

“I’ve seen death before Cullen.” She looked back. “And that’s why I want to be there. I know it may not be much, but I can’t stand the thought of staying back, _knowing_ I could do something.” Her face softened. “I _know_ you understand that Cullen. Don’t try to talk me out of helping.”

Yes, he understood the desire to help. But he also understood what it was to lose people.

“I could not bear if something happened to you,” he said, throat constricting. Naomi squeezed his hand, eyes starting to shine.

“And how do you think I feel?” She whispered. “I’ve had to accept that everyone I love is constantly in danger. That they risk their lives to keep others safe. How can I not be willing to do the same?” Cullen felt his heart thump. _Love? Did she say… love?_ He shook his head. _No… she said everyone. She was talking about James… Nassella…_

Cullen looked at her slightly red face and knew he had lost. There would be no convincing her to change her mind. So now, all he could do was make sure she came out of the fortress alive.

“Who will you be with?” he asked. Her lips turned up slightly in a smile.

“Sera and Blackwall… I think Vivienne maybe. Nassella had to talk to her…” He brought a hand to her cheek, despite the distance she had shown him the last few days, thankful that she did not shy away, and gazed at the flecks of green decorating her eyes.

“Good. Make sure you listen to them. Sera is one of the most skilled archers I have ever seen, and Vivienne a talented mage. Blackwall is an accomplished warrior. They will keep you safe.” She nodded.

“I know they will,” she whispered. Cullen looked at her lips, and at the thought that he would never kiss her again, pulled her face to his, crushing their lips together. She made a surprised sound in the back of her throat, snapping Cullen to his senses.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, pulling away. But she followed him, bringing them back together with a hand suddenly buried in his hair, full lips wrapping around his own. He relaxed, pulling their bodies together with a hand at her waist, resisting the urge to return the bump of her hips against his with a roll of his own. But he couldn’t stop the heat growing in his stomach as he matched the slow movements of her lips against his, breath coming shorter not only from his own reduced access to air, but at the sound of her elevated breathing and the feel of her warm breaths mingled with his…

His head was light, so lost in the feel of her warm lips and the slight curves of her waist beneath his hands, that when she swiped her tongue along his bottom lip, it caught him by surprise. He gripped her tighter, a pang of heat radiating from his groin, and realized his arousal had begun to manifest physically, eager for release after his recent decision to abstain from seeking it by his own hand.

He felt the desire to push Naomi back, brace her against his makeshift desk so he could rut against her body and increase the friction on his half-hard cock. He wanted to push beneath her clothing with his hands, explore every curve of her skin, shuddering at the thought of her hands on him in a similar way. He cursed his plate armor, wanting to feel her breasts pressing against his chest through thin cotton shirts…

But the thought of her breasts reminded him who he was kissing, why he couldn’t let, didn’t _want_ to let, these types of thoughts rob him of his judgement. That was not what she had anticipated when she kissed him, and he balked at the thought he would consider seeking pleasure so crudely from her. He loosened his hold on her hips, taking a step back to distance their bodies. They stayed close, however, as they caught their breath, so close that when Naomi whispered something beneath her breath, he heard her clearly, though he could not understand what it meant.

“What?” Cullen asked, looking into her eyes. She flushed even redder, if that was possible.

“Um… sorry. I just said… um… ‘fuck’.” Cullen’s cock twitched, and he took a deep breath to cool the heat running through his body.

“I see,” he said, wishing his voice wasn’t so ragged. “You don’t usually talk like that,” he added to change the subject. Naomi laughed, removing her hand from his hair.

“Well, I think it a lot,” she said. Cullen cleared his throat, the attempt to divert his mind to thoughts other than Naomi and his erection ruined by her answer. But he took another breath to calm himself, knowing she hadn’t meant anything more by her comment than that she swore in her head.

He wondered what other words he could draw past her lips.

_No. Stop these thoughts._

“I was just… surprised.” Cullen felt a stab of worry, finally feeling himself calm down.

“If it was too much…” Naomi grabbed his arm.

“No, Cullen. It was fine.” She took a step back. “I’m just… very attracted to you Cullen, and this is new, so sometimes I’m surprised by my reactions when we kiss. It’s hard to… stay focused and not get lost…” She was flaming red. “I sometimes think I like it more than I should.” Cullen stared.

_Could she really feel so similar to myself?_

“It’s not wrong to like being kissed,” he finally answered. Naomi smiled and nodded.

“I know.” She looked toward the door to his tent. “We should go,” she said quietly. “There’s a lot to do.”

_Yes… it is time to focus._

He stopped her before she could leave, pulling her into an embrace. Because as much as he enjoyed kissing her, it was the thought of never seeing or talking to her again that truly filled him with fear.

“Be safe,” he whispered into her hair.

“You too,” she whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are at least one or two Dutch speakers who read this, so I have a question...
> 
> I know that in Dutch, you often just use the English 'fuck' for that particular curse. But here, I wanted to use a different word, to indicate it was spoken in a different language, so I used what Google translate told me. If there is a better alternative available, however, I would be more than happy to learn about it. Thanks!


	54. Adamant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter was hard to write. Hopefully I'll have more inspiration for the rest of Adamant. Anyway, enjoy.

Naomi shifted back and forth on her feet, twisting her bow between her hands. She was currently out of range of the flaming arrows raining down from the walls of Adamant, but not out of range of the sounds drifting over the sand as the Inquisition’s more heavily armored soldiers attempted to scale the walls on ladders and another group slowly pushed the battering ram toward the main gate. There was yelling and screaming, and she flinched when a trebuchet let loose another flaming projectile to sail over the walls, the distant sound of crashing stone distinct over the other sounds of battle.

Cullen hadn’t been lying. It was loud. And she knew it would only get louder. She twisted the bow some more, trying to keep the nausea controlled in her gut. She didn’t exactly feel sick, but the adrenaline already coursing through her body had settled in her stomach, leaving her queasy.

_What the fuck was I thinking…?_

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she looked over her shoulder to see Blackwall had approached.

“Another few minutes and we’ll be through,” he said gruffly, arms crossed. Naomi looked back to the gate. The soldiers had finally pushed the battering ram to the large doors and were beginning the process of breaking through the wood, pulling the metal coated log back and allowing gravity to finish the work. But even from their distance, she could see it was not an easy task for the men and women near the gate, as the Wardens threw boulders and arrows from the walls above.

And James and Nassella were down there with them.

“You’ll snap your bow handling it like that,” Blackwall commented. Naomi frowned, looking down at her hands and the nearly uncomfortable grip she had on her weapon. She knew the warrior was exaggerating, but she loosened her hold with a sigh, once again attempting to calm herself.

“I’m… a little nervous,” she said, though she tried not to let it show in her voice. Blackwall grunted.

“I expect you’re not the only one.” And for some reason, that comforted her, put things into perspective. Yes, she was nervous… afraid even. But everyone else was too. She could not back away because of fear.

_There are demons in there. Which is terrifying, but that’s why I’m fighting. They can’t be allowed to get out into the world…_

“Just stay focused,” Blackwall said, giving her a nod. “It’s alright to be afraid, but don’t let it take you over. Stay out of range of the melee fighters and shoot like you can at the shooting range. Remember you’re not alone. We’ve all got your back in there.” Naomi nodded, taking more breaths. Yes, she had to stay focused. And she wasn’t alone, which not only meant others would be there to protect her, but she had a responsibility to protect them as well. They were a team, and though she didn’t exactly know Blackwall or Vivienne very well, she trusted them, because Nassella trusted them.

“Ok,” she said, voice only shaking a little.

“Also, don’t forget what your skin can do. It won’t get you through everything, but it’s something.” She took another big breath.

_Right. Just don’t get hit too hard… it will be fine..._

A cheer echoed from the gate. “They’re through,” Blackwall said. He gave her a small smile. “Time to go.” Naomi nodded, looking around for Vivienne and Sera, finding they had approached her and Blackwall at some point during their conversation. She tried to return Sera’s smile and took a final deep breath. She looked back to Adamant, and felt the urge to pray.

_Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come, they will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven…_

“Come on Naomi! Let’s get the blighters!” She shook her head, pulled along by Sera.

_Right._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Cullen ran through the shattered gates, hand on his sword, ready to fight whatever he found on the other side. But it was unneeded, at least for the moment, as the Inquisitor and her team had already cleared out what resistance they had found. He stepped around the disintegrating remains of a demon, wincing at the slight smell of sulfur, and ran toward the Inquisitor.

“Inquisitor! You have your way in. Best make use of it. We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.” The elf nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, glancing back at Solas, James, and the others. “Just keep the men safe,” she continued, looking back to him. He nodded, but knew that would be a hard promise to keep. The Wardens had accumulated more demons already than he had anticipated, and he knew it would be a long, hard fight to gain any ground. But they could not fail.

“We’ll do what we have to, Inquisitor,” he said. She nodded, and he could see in her eyes she understood the sacrifice everyone had been asked to make. “Warden Stroud will guard your back,” he continued. “Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. He’s assisting them until you arrive…” A yell from above caught his attention, and he looked up with a twist in his gut as one of his soldiers fell from the battlements above, a demon looming from the top.

Yes, there were more demons than he anticipated, and knowing that they had been purposefully brought into this world made him sick.

_Blood magic. Why does it always come back to blood magic and the lust for more power? It’s like Ferelden’s Circle again…_

He closed his eyes, stopping that train of thought as he felt a surge of panic. He could not let fear take him. Not here. Not now.

“Cullen?” He opened his eyes, focusing on the slight woman before him. Now that they were in the gates, they could assault the walls from two fronts.

“There’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.”

“We can help with that,” a man’s voice said from behind. He turned to find Blackwall had arrived with another squad of soldiers, Sera, Vivienne, and… Naomi, in tow. She stared with furrowed brows at the ground, where the bodies of Inquisition soldiers and Wardens were soaking in blood. He tried not to imagine her in a similar position. Except… it wouldn’t be blood. She wouldn’t bleed to death. He couldn’t decide if it made him feel better to think of how much more it would take to kill her, or worse.

He resisted the urge to send her back to camp. It was far too late for that.

“Alright,” Nassella said. “Get our soldiers on the wall Blackwall. We’ll help where we can, but the fastest way to end this will be to find Clarel.”

And then they were moving, deeper into the keep. Cullen felt a hand on his, and looked to find Naomi next to him, her eyes studying his. For a moment they just looked at each other, and Cullen tried to memorize the shape of her face, the color of her eyes, the scars on her skin, the map of freckles across her face…

He didn’t even feel the urge to kiss her. If he kissed her, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Cullen, I…” she started to stay, but stopped. She took a deep breath, and squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you later,” she said softly, an attempt at a smile curling her lips. Cullen’s throat constricted.

“Of course,” he said. And then she turned and ran toward the next door. He watched her the entire way.

When she was gone he turned himself, to the soldiers streaming through the destroyed gates. As much as it pained him, he knew he could not continue to worry about her. She was with others, her life in their hands. The best way for him to ensure he saw her again, and every other person who had walked through that door for that matter, was to lead the troops against these demons as best he could.

_This will be nothing like Ferelden’s Circle. I will make sure of it._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James pulled his sword from the gut of a Warden archer and turned to see where he was needed next. But no more Wardens remained standing. Not that he really expected any to be, with the number of people he had fighting at his back. Because not only were Nassella, Solas, Dorian, and Bull all there, but Stroud, Blackwall, Sera, and Vivienne had followed behind. And Naomi, who he suspected had yet to fire a single shot, catching her gaze as she stared, wide-eyed, at him from the bottom of the stairs.

 _Yeah, there are demons Naomi… but there are Wardens too. They’re the ones who brought them here in the first place._ He shook his head at the thought of the Wardens. He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about killing them. They’d brought everything on themselves. _How could they be so stupid? What the fuck did they think would happen, bringing a bunch of demons into the world…?_

He couldn’t believe what they had done. What they were doing. He didn’t care that they had summoned these demons to try and stop the Blight… however that was supposed to work. It was idiotic, and he couldn’t believe the warriors had _willingly_ allowed themselves to be sacrificed for _demons._ Sure, he understood the Wardens were prepared to die… but surely s _ome_ of the warriors would have seen the plan for the insanity it was…

Though, he supposed they may have been the first to go.

Nassella ran past him with a nod, but he held back until Naomi reached him. He grabbed her arm.

“You alright?” he asked. She nodded, but her eyes were still wide. He frowned, and she sighed.

“I’ve just… never actually seen you fight before. But it’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Naomi…” he warned. If she couldn’t do this, he needed to know now…

“I’ll be fine!” she said defensively, pulling away. It didn’t make him feel better. He watched her follow the others, then attached his sword to his back to run after her.

It was going to be a long night.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

_What were the Wardens thinking? This is ridiculous!_

Nassella stepped over the body of the demon she had just killed, already assessing how to approach the next one. She saw an arrow whiz past her, striking the demon in front of her square in the chest. The creature faltered, and she took the opportunity to slip her dagger into the creature’s stomach, ducking away from the swipe of a claw to slip behind its back. But before she could slice its throat, it collapsed, an arrow piercing its skull. She looked up and saw Naomi grabbing another arrow from her quiver, lips a thin line. Nassella nodded to herself.

_I knew she could do this…_

The demons were dead and they moved on. Always on. They had to secure the fortress. They had to find Clarel. Put an end to this madness.

And it was _madness._ She knew the Wardens said they did this to find the Old Gods, stop the Blight for good… but how could they honestly think it would work? That this was the way?

She found some comfort, small as it was, when they reached the main bailey. A group of the Warden warriors were fighting the Warden mages and the demons bound to them.

_Maybe they’re not all too far gone._

When the demons and mages were dead, she turned to the Wardens. They looked terrified, and she couldn’t blame them. Unbound to the will of Corypheus, it was clear they had started to see through Clarel’s plans.

It hurt, despite everything, to see them like this. No one deserved this. Not from their Commander. Not from someone they should trust.

“The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens!” She yelled, gesturing the way they had come. “Fall back and you won’t be harmed!”

“Alright,” one of the Wardens responded. “My men will stay back, we want no part in this. Deal with Clarel as you must.”

Stroud nodded to her as the other Wardens left. “Well said. I had hoped some of the Wardens would listen to reason,” he said. She nodded back.

_Yes… let’s just hope the rest will as well…_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi decided the twisting in her gut wasn’t going to go away. Not after leaving Cullen by the gate, unsure if she would see him again, regretting she had stopped herself from telling him she loved him. Not after seeing James run his sword through a man’s gut like butter with hardly a flinch. Not after looking down the shaft of a drawn arrow at a Warden, unable to release the projectile even though she _knew_ the mage wouldn’t stop fighting unless he died…

She turned to the demons instead. They were just as dangerous, and she could bring herself to loose her arrows on them.

The only comfort she felt was when Nassella spared the Warden warriors, promising them the Inquisition’s protection, to know that James hadn’t lied when he said Nassella spared whoever she could…

“We must keep moving my dear, these demons won’t kill themselves.” Naomi jumped slightly, the smooth voice of Vivienne catching her off guard.

“Oh… yes, I know Vi… Madam Vivienne.” The mage swept past her and Naomi sighed. She had gotten the distinct impression when preparing for the battle that the woman was not happy to be paired with her. Or Sera. Or Blackwall for that matter. Still, she didn’t hesitate to throw up shields around the others, or block a bow with that strange blade she conjured with magic…

“Naomi, let’s go!” Sera yelled as she ran past, grabbing her hand to yank her toward the others. “Day dream when this is over, yeah?”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Nassella took the last few steps two at a time, reaching the battlements with a final burst of speed. They were littered with demons and Wardens, the Inquisition unable to break through enough to climb over the ladders.

“Blackwall! Clear out the area by that ladder,” she said, pointing to her right. Then she turned to her team. At Dorian, the Tevinter mage who had drawn her suspicion when she first met him, but had since become one of her closest friends, and Bull, the hulking Qunari warrior who had said he would protect her from the first time he met her, and had never faltered on that promise. Then to James, the tall man from another world who had, despite everything, become one of the most fearless fighters she knew, who had likely saved her life more than once…

And Solas, the man she loved.

She trusted them with her life. She knew she would need everything they could give for what they were going to do next.

“We’re going to find Clarel.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi turned toward the demons attacking the Inquisition’s soldiers, knowing that James and Nassella and Dorian… were running in the other direction, deeper into the keep to find the Warden-Commander. She might not ever see them again…

_No! You will… they’ll be fine…_

And she couldn’t worry about them now. She had her own problems to concern herself. Specifically, the rage demon that was currently trying to get past Blackwall’s shield…

Suddenly, something struck her back with incredible force, knocking her forward and drawing a surprised gasp from her lungs. And pain, strong and sharp, radiating deeply into her muscle and bone…

She turned, to face whatever was attacking her… Only to be driven back by another impact, this time on her shoulder.

But now, she saw what it was, and stared at the arrow embedded in the leather of her armor.

_No… that can’t be…_

She flinched when an arrow flew past her ear, a slight whisper of air ruffling the wisps of hair coming out of her braid. She saw her then, the Warden who had somehow gotten past Nassella, drawing a fourth arrow. Naomi reached for her own arrows, noting that the pain in her shoulder was dull, like a bruise, not the sharp pain a full wound would leave…

_It couldn’t have pierced the skin…_

She looked down her arrow at the Warden, putting her exposed neck in her sight…

And hesitated, the twisting in her gut flaring.

_I… can’t. She’s a person…_

Naomi doubled over, the woman having released her arrow and striking her stomach. Naomi felt her eyes water, wincing as she stood to aim once again.

_A person who’s trying to kill you…_

Naomi adjusted her grip, knowing if she released her hold, the arrow would hit the other archer square in the neck. The archer who was already fumbling with a fifth arrow…

_…and she might go after one of the others, and they won’t be so lucky…_

The woman lifter her bow, sighting down the shaft…

_God... forgive me._

Naomi let the arrow go with an outward breath, only watching long enough to confirm the Warden fell.

She turned away quickly, looking desperately for a demon to focus on, for something other than the woman she had just killed to occupy her mind…

But the fight was over, the Inquisition soldiers finally streaming up the ladder. Naomi dropped her arms, her nausea finally threatening to manifest fully.

_I… I… she’s… I… killed her…_

“Shite Naomi, you look like a quillback!” Sera’s exclamation brought her back, somewhat, and Naomi brought a hand to the arrow at her stomach. With a tug she pulled it from the leather, inspecting the point. There was no blood.

“Let me look at that, you will need healing…” Vivienne said, sweeping past Sera. Naomi pulled the arrow from her shoulder.

“No… it’s fine,” she said, voice just above a whisper.

“My dear,” Vivienne said, voice indicating she was in no mood for arguing. “You have three arrows protruding from your body. Surely you need healing.” Naomi held up the arrow, reaching for the one around her back.

“They didn’t pierce the skin. It’s just a bruise.” Vivienne grabbed her hand, inspecting the arrowhead.

“I see,” she said, releasing her. But she didn’t look away, eyes slightly narrowed. “This is not the first time you have presented me with impossible injuries… or rather, lack of injuries,” the mage said coolly. “I find that curious.” Naomi rolled the arrow between her fingers, cheeks flushing.

Sera sighed in frustration. “Who cares? What’s the next one?”

“Yes,” Blackwall said, giving her a nod. “There are more ladders to clear.”

Naomi trailed behind the others as they followed the same path Nassella had already taken along the battlements, thankful the Warden she had killed had fallen in such a way that she didn’t have to see her face again.

But she couldn’t forget the brief look of shock that had crossed the other archer’s face when her arrow hit her, or the way she crumpled to the floor immediately after.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

The further they moved into the fortress, the more James realized that unless they were able to stop Clarel, it was likely a one way journey. They killed every Warden or demon they found in their path, but he couldn’t know what was filling in behind them. They were on the leading edge of the assault, effectively isolating themselves from the help of the Inquisition, and if the other soldiers couldn’t get through, he didn’t know if they could hold off long enough to survive.

And when they reached the main courtyard, that realization solidified. The area was packed with Wardens, all focused on two figures standing on a raised platform.

_If they turn on us… there’s no way we can fight our way through them all._

But what quickly drew his attention was the rift in the center of the courtyard. James stared at it, his skin starting to crawl. He always felt a little shiver cross his skin when first encountering a rift, but this was different. It was intense, and the more he looked at the rift, the worse it got, his heart rate elevating even further and the hairs standing up all over his body.

That rift… scared him. More than any other rift he had ever seen.

He looked toward Nassella. “Ness…” he said. She nodded, clenching her fist, the mark glowing from her hand.

“I feel it too,” she whispered, stepping forward as the Wardens turned toward them.

James wanted her to close that rift. Fast.

But that didn’t happen, as Nassella and Hawke and Stroud yelled back and forth with the figures on the platform, who turned out to be Clarel and Erimond. They tried to convince the Warden-Commander that they were being used by Corypheus, that instead of saving the world by stopping the Blight, they would doom it instead…

And then, by some miracle, Clarel paused, hesitated to bind herself to the demon they were summoning…

Then Erimond raised his staff, and a burst of red lyrium fire rained down from above. James ducked, stepping toward Nassella with his sword already drawn.

_Fucking dragon…_

It landed, surveying everyone below, and James readied himself to dodge the next burst of lyrium…

A burst of magic struck the beast, and James dared to look away, to see Clarel had attacked the dragon, only to be knocked aside by a burst of lyrium flame. Erimond ran, and she followed, urging the Wardens to help the Inquisition as she did.

_About time._

They disappeared, along with the dragon, somewhere on and beyond the walls. But James couldn’t worry about them, because a pride demon had materialized from the rift. He caught Nassella’s eye and nodded, turning back to the demon, swinging his sword experimentally. It wasn’t the first pride demon he had faced that night. He hoped it would be the last.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Cullen stepped back behind the main line of fighting, wiping his brow with a shaky hand. He leaned against a wall to catch his breath, trying to ignore the sounds emanating from the front line of fighting.

It had been worse than he anticipated, fighting these demons. Not even fighting below the Breach had brought memories of Ferelden’s Circle to his mind like this night had, with the dark, and the walls, and the demons brought into this world by blood magic…

He shook his head, clearing the images as best he could.

_No. I will keep it together. I am not caged. I am free to fight. The Inquisition needs me to stay focused. The Inquisitor needs me to lead._

_Naomi needs me to keep her safe._

He looked toward the walls. Runners from the outside had told him most of the ladders had been cleared, which indicated that Blackwall and his team were still moving along the battlements.

Whether Naomi still moved with them, he could not know.

He pushed off from the wall, reaching for his sword. He would not sit back while the others fought. Despite his own misgivings, he felt the fight turning. They were making progress through the keep, clearing out the demons, and a number of Wardens had fallen back, joined the Inquisition’s soldiers. Something he was glad to see, though it indicated to him just how corrupted the Warden’s purpose had become. He knew how a sense of duty, and the reassurances of a commander, could hold one to a certain path, despite the evidence that pointed in another direction. He only wished it hadn’t taken so many demons, so many dead Wardens, and the attacking Inquisition to finally turn their minds.

_Though I should be grateful they changed their minds at all. Maker knows I nearly didn’t._

He had nearly reached the line of fighting, when a roar echoed from the walls, shouts and yells of alarm falling from the walls. He looked up, heart sinking at the shadow he saw circling the fortress.

The dragon from Haven.

His first thought was for Naomi exposed on the walls…

But as the dragon turned toward the center of the fortress, he knew the creature’s real target.

_The Inquisitor._

If she was lost, their chances of victory would be nearly lost as well.

He noted their position, remembering the layout of the fortress. They were close to a path he knew would lead them toward the center…

“Come!” he yelled over the fighting. “We need to help the Inquisitor!”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi sat on the steps, burying her head momentarily in her hands.

_It’s dead. It’s done…_

She’d never seen a pride demon before. She didn’t realize demons could be that big, could shoot electricity from their hands, could take so long to kill…

She heard Sera yell and winced, knowing Vivienne was trying to heal the other archer after she took a direct hit from the demon’s fist…

_If only my aim was better. I could have taken out the thing’s eyes faster. Sera wouldn’t be in such pain…_

“Naomi?” She looked up, Blackwall leaning on a knee a couple of stairs down. She sat up straighter, trying to look less distressed. “She’ll be alright, it sounds worse than it is. Sera doesn’t like demons.” Naomi sighed.

“Does anybody like demons?” Blackwall chuckled, extending a hand. Naomi took it and stood.

“You should ask Solas about that when this is all over,” he said. Naomi felt her lips twitch slightly. _Yes. If anyone would like demons, it would be Solas. Though I’m sure he draws the line at some point…_

Suddenly, a roar filled the air and Naomi looked to the sky, heart beginning to race. She reached for an arrow, instinctively ducking, trying to make herself look smaller as a black dragon flew over the fortress, moonlight shining through the holes in the membranes of its wings…

_Shit… that’s the dragon from Haven…_

For a moment they stood, paralyzed, and watched as the creature finally landed, toward the center of the fortress.

“The Inquisitor!” Blackwall yelled. The twist in Naomi’s gut tightened.

_James._

She followed the others at a sprint, weaving around the soldiers clearing out the last demons on the walls, trying not to panic.

_We’ll get there. He’ll be fine. We can help..._

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Nassella ran up the stairs, ignoring the cramp forming in her side, in the direction Clarel had gone, and tried not to let the flapping of the dragon overhead scare her too much.

_Gods… I hate that dragon._

And there were more demons along the way, slowing their advance as they tried to reach Clarel and Erimond. But they were able to make quick work of everything they met, and Nassella knew she could ask for no better people to have by her side…

The dragon landed along the balcony they were following, and Nassella dove to the side, finding a pillar to shield herself from the red lyrium spewing from the beast’s mouth. She looked up momentarily, making eye contact with James, his back to the pillar opposite hers. His expression was grim, brows pulled close together. But he gave her a nod when their eyes met. She nodded back, suddenly wishing she had brought a group to attack one of the dragons they had met in their travels, not liking the fact they would be facing this beast with no experience…

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Naomi ran into the main courtyard, stopping when she caught sight of the rift glowing at the center. Every hair on her body stood on end as a shiver ran across her skin.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck… I don’t like that…_

The pounding of feet from behind caught her attention, and she turned while reaching for an arrow, ready to defend herself against whatever fresh threat presented itself…

But she dropped her hands immediately at what she saw, relief washing through her, momentarily distracting her from the terrifying rift behind her.

_Cullen._

He was alive, running toward her, eyes never leaving hers, expression alternating between relief and worry.

“Naomi,” he breathed, grabbing her shoulders when they were close enough. She tried to smile, but felt it falter immediately.

She didn’t know where James was.

“Commander!” a soldier yelled, running toward them. “We’re trying to hold the demons coming from the rift back, but the Inquisitor ran off that way to follow Clarel…” Naomi looked in the direction the man indicated, feet pulling her away from Cullen as she looked to the stairs.

“Naomi, stay here…” Cullen said. She shook her head, running after Blackwall and the others.

“No! I’m finding my brother…”

He didn’t try to stop her again. They ran, up the stairs and along the walls, and Naomi tried to ignore the burns and scratches they encountered along the stones, knowing that as long as she didn’t come across her brother’s body, he was still alive…

She heard a roar, making her heart race even faster than the running was, and picked up her speed.

_We’re close. We can help…_

They passed through a doorway, and for one, brief second, Naomi saw her brother across a bridge.

And then a body fell from above, followed immediately by the dragon, crashing to the stones with a thud and separating her from her brother and friends. Naomi pulled up short.

_It’s so big…_

It moved toward her brother and the others…

“Spread out,” Blackwall said. “We’ll get it from behind…”

But it lunged, a flash of light hitting it from below in the same instant. It crashed to the ground, falling over the edge of the bridge. And then the whole structure began to fall.

“No!” Naomi yelled, taking a step forward. Because she could see, at the end, that James was still there, struggling to stand…

A hand held her back.

“Naomi, you can’t…” She stopped, entire body tensed, and watched with increasingly darkened vision and shortened breath as the bridge fell to pieces, and everyone disappeared over the edge into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from game property of Bioware


	55. The Abyss

For a moment, Nassella didn’t move. She laid on the ground and stared at the cloudy, slightly green sky, trying to process what had just happened.

_The dragon lunged, Clarel hit it with magic, the bridge started to fall…_

_And we fell with it._

But she didn’t feel hurt, as she expected after falling hundreds of feet, and she certainly wasn’t looking up at Adamant.

She sat up slowly, head spinning slightly, and looked around for the others. She was relieved to see Bull was getting up next to her, and she could see Dorian and Solas further beyond. But as she got to her feet, she started to worry, unable to find James, or Hawke, or Stroud…

“What the fuck?” Nassella looked up, relieved to hear James’ voice. But instead of finding him on a ledge, as she had assumed, he was standing, nearly horizontal, on a jagged cliff face. And, Nassella noted, he looked none too pleased at his position, looking down at her with a look of confused anger she would have found comical, if she didn’t feel quite so similar.

“Where are we?” She turned, finding Stroud in nearly the same position as James, just as confused.

“We were falling…” And there was Hawke, standing completely upside down. She couldn’t make any sense of it.

So she looked around with more purpose, trying to place herself in some sort of context. It was hazy, and she couldn’t see much beyond a few dozen feet. But from what she could make out, she decided they could no longer be in the Approach. At least, no part of the Approach she had ever seen. There was water here, scattered in puddles across the ground, and jagged pillars of stone rising up into the hazy sky, just a hint of a dim sun breaking through the clouds. The air was still, pressing down around her like a summer day in the forests of the Free Marches…

“Is this… are we dead?” Hawke continued. Nassella frowned. _I don’t feel dead…_

“No,” Solas said, looking toward a swirling green center of the sky that looked suspiciously like the Breach. “This is the Fade.” Nassella’s mouth dropped open. _The Fade?! How could that be…?_ “The Inquisitor opened a rift. We came through… and survived.” Nassella shook her head, looking at her hand. But she remembered now, reaching out as she fell, feeling the mark activate, a flash of green light. She hadn’t been aware of what she was doing, but Solas was right. Somehow she had opened a rift as they tumbled to the earth, afraid and unwilling to simply fall to her death.

_Creators… what must they be thinking back there?_

“I never thought I would find myself here physically,” Solas added. “Look. The Black City, almost close enough to touch.” Nassella looked, finding the towering black pillars in the distance. She had heard about the Black City, but never thought to see it, not being a mage. And to think that she had brought them across the Veil with barely a thought…

“This is… incredible,” she nearly whispered, though a shiver crossed her skin.

_What are we going to do…?_ She looked at her hand. _Could I open another rift?_

“The Fade looked much different the last time I was here,” Hawke muttered.

“Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically,” Dorian said. “This is no one’s dream.”

Hawke walked slowly along the rock he was impossibly stuck to, toward the ground. Nassella noticed James was doing the same, arms slightly spread, as if to keep his balance. Stroud had already reached the ground. “The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven. Was it like this?” Hawke asked. Nassella looked around, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I still can’t remember what happened the last time I did this.” _I hope it wasn’t like this. This is terrifying…_

“What about you James? You and your sister were here…”

“God I don’t remember,” James said angrily, turning slowly in a circle, hands gripping his sword hilt. Now that he was closer, Nassella realized his eyes were entirely green, so bright they nearly glowed. Just as they had been when she found him in the future at Redcliffe. “All I remember is waking up in that tent in Haven…”

Hawke sighed. “Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can’t assume we’re safe now.”

“Ah, this is shitty,” Bull grumbled. “I’ll fight whatever you give me, boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town.” Nassella frowned. No, this was certainly not what she expected the battle at Adamant would be like.

“In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby. In the main hall. Can we escape that same way?” Stroud suggested. Nassella nodded. Yes, that was what they needed to do. She looked at her hand. There was no way she could try and open another rift, she didn’t even know how she had done it the first time. And when she looked at James, she realized that even if she did, they may not find themselves in her own world.

_But if I can open rifts… could James go home? Could Naomi? Could I find a way to send them back…?_

She clenched her fists at the thought, a feeling of panic sweeping through her.

_No. I don’t want to lose him…_

But that wasn’t her call. She knew that. And if it meant her friends could return to their home…

She shook her head. Even if she could open rifts to their world, it didn’t matter. Right now, they needed to return to Thedas, to the battle. Quickly. They didn’t have the time to experiment with opening rifts into other worlds. It might not even be possible. And she couldn’t find a way to send James back without Naomi…

But… later, after they got out of this… Perhaps she could talk to them, and Solas, see if there was something they could do…

That feeling of panic returned, and a wash of sadness. The thought of losing either of them… A howl echoed from the mist ahead, and Nassella took a deep breath to focus. At the moment she couldn’t worry about those possibilities, about what-ifs. Because the reality was they needed to get out of the Fade. To finish what they had started at Adamant. So she could leave to help her clan. So she could save _her_ world from Corypheus…

“It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?” she asked, trying to raise the mood, knowing the others were likely just as uneasy as she was. She looked at the swirling green in the clouds ahead. It had to be the rift. “There,” she said, taking a step forward. “Let’s go.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Cullen stared into the darkness, at the empty space where, a moment before, there had been a broken bridge holding the Inquisitor and her companions, Warden Stroud, Hawke… but now nothing.

For a moment, he couldn’t move.

_No. She can’t be… We were too late. What are we going to do…?_

A screech echoed from the sky, and he looked up to watch the dragon slowly flapping its damaged wings, moving out over the desert, away from the fortress.

_At least that is one less thing we have to concern ourselves with…_

But it didn’t change the fact that there was still a fortress filled with an unknown number of demons at his back, an open rift in the courtyard, and their Inquisitor, their Herald, had fallen…

And not alone. His stomach clenched, and he became acutely aware that he was still holding Naomi’s shoulder. That she had not moved since James also fell over the edge.

He moved to her front quickly, grabbing her shoulders and searching her face, throat closing with pain at what he saw. She stared, unseeing, past him, her breaths elevated, shoulders beginning to tremble. He’d seen this look, over a year before, when she’d exited the tent where her brother had just died. He had helplessly watched her run away to mourn, alone, curled around herself at a frozen lakeshore…

And now, she had just witnessed another brother, her last connection to her family and nearly everything she had ever known, fall. And not just her brother. The Inquisitor and Dorian, her friends, had gone down as well.

He would feel the pain of their loss, when the shock and adrenaline of the battle had worn away. But Cullen knew he could not succumb to grief, not while there was so much left to do…

But Naomi had no such concerns. He felt her entire body shaking, saw her gaze growing more distant with every passing second. She was shutting down, mind closing off to everything but the loss of everyone she loved most, of the people who loved her back…

_No, not everyone,_ he thought, cupping her face with his hands, bringing himself close to look into her wide, increasingly panicked eyes. _I’m here. I love her…_

He caught his breath. _Maker… I love her._ Why hadn’t he realized it before? Why did it take seeing her in such pain to finally acknowledge his feelings for what they were?

He stared into the eyes of the woman he loved, as they grew bright with threatened tears, and wanted nothing more than to hold her like he couldn’t the first time, be there as she poured out every ounce of grief. But he couldn’t let that happen, they didn’t have the time. They were trapped in the center of a demon infested fortress. She couldn’t fall apart, because if she did, she might not make it out. And Andraste knew his night would be a nightmare as it was, attempting to lead the Inquisition after the loss of their Inquisitor…

“Naomi,” he begged, desperate to bring her back, to hold her together. He rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks. “Naomi, please, look at me. You’re not alone, I’m here. Stay with me…” Her eyes shifted, focused slightly.

“Cullen…” she whispered, voice so full of sorrow and loss that Cullen almost broke himself.

_No. I can’t…_

“I know, I know,” he said, holding her as tightly as he dared. “But the battle isn’t over. You mustn’t cry, not now…” Her lip trembled, but she nodded and closed her eyes, taking deeper breaths to slow their racing pace…

But he wasn’t sure she could do it. She felt too deeply, too intensely. He didn’t know what he could do, what he could say to help her…

“Wrong, wrong, wrong. Skin won’t quiet, crackling and crawling. Everything is turned and twisted...” Cullen felt a flare of annoyance. He didn’t know where Cole had been during the battle, but now was not the time for one of his cryptic rants…

“They were falling, and then… they weren’t. The sky teared, turned, became the ground…”

_Maker, I can’t deal with this as well…_

But something had changed, as Naomi opened her eyes and looked toward the spirit.

“Cole… are they…?” she asked in a hopeful whisper. Confused, Cullen looked to the boy.

“Yes,” Cole replied with a nod. But then he frowned. “It’s too hard to hear now…”

Naomi pulled away and he let her go reluctantly. She walked toward the ledge. “Cullen, they’re alive!” she exclaimed. “We have to find them…” Cullen shook his head. The chances that any of them survived such a fall… though he supposed if anyone could it would be James, with his ability to heal. He followed Naomi and looked to the ground. But he couldn’t see anything in the dark.

_This false hope will just make it worse…_

“Commander,” Vivienne said, drawing his attention from the fallen bridge. “I believe we have a problem.” Cullen frowned.

“Of course we have a problem Madam Vivienne. The Inquisitor has fallen…”

“She’s not dead!” Naomi said, grabbing his arm. “Cole said…”

“Naomi,” he interrupted, though it hurt to crush her hope. “You saw them fall. The chances that any survived…”

“Commander, I believe she could be correct.” Cullen gaped at the Enchanter. “I felt a ripple in the Veil as they fell, and the sky flashed green.” Cullen nodded. Yes, he had seen the green… “I believe they have fallen into the Fade,” the mage said, voice somber. “The Inquisitor opened a rift as they fell.” Cullen was speechless.

“How is that possible?” he finally managed to ask.

“It is not so hard to imagine the Inquisitor could open the Veil, just as she can repair it. Whether they will survive in the Fade is another matter entirely…” Naomi’s grip on his arm had tightened.

“No,” she said. “No, no, no… They can’t be in the Fade! Not here!”

Cullen took a deep breath. This fixed nothing. It made things worse, if anything. _Maker… before Nassella stepped out of the Fade, the last to walk there were the magisters who defiled the Golden City…_

And there was still nothing he could do to help them, even if they somehow survived in the Fade. The very thought of what they could meet there left a tight coil of dread in his gut.

He felt himself pulled away from the ledge, back the way they had just run. “The rift!” Naomi said, looking at him desperately. Then to Vivienne. “The rift in the courtyard! They can get out that way…” Cullen stopped her, grabbing her shoulders one more time. What he saw did not comfort him. She was no longer on the verge of crying, but the wild look of desperate hope in her gaze could prove to be far more dangerous. Her emotions were in turmoil, solidifying his own resolve to stay grounded, focused.

“We don’t know that,” he said carefully. “To survive in the Fade…” Her nostrils flared.

“Nassella’s already done that! James and I did it! They can do it again…!” She grabbed his arm, hand shaking. “They can do it again,” she whispered, voice breaking slightly.

Perhaps she wasn’t as far from crying as he had thought.

But she was right. It was no longer unheard of for people to walk the Fade and survive. He was looking at one of three who had done so. And they returned to this world through rifts…

Yes, they needed to secure the rift, give the Inquisitor her best chance.

But he was hesitant to allow himself to hope as Naomi had. He didn’t trust anything involving the Fade or demons to turn out well. He had to assume the Inquisitor would not return, and he therefore had an Inquisition to lead, and a demon army to destroy.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, immediately regretting the action as the stale, sulfur scented air assaulted his nose.

“Those were little fears. Tiny manifestations spawned from the nightmare itself.”

“They take the form of spiders, something so many fear.”

“You saw spiders? Gah! Spiders would have been a massive improvement from what I saw.”

James had to agree with Bull. Spiders, snakes, darkspawn… anything would have been better than the rambling, broken corpses resembling Nassella and Naomi he had been fighting the entire time they worked themselves through the Fade. Fucking anything would be better than feeling like he was killing his sister and the woman he loved over, and over, and over again. Anything else that wouldn’t remind him that he could completely, utterly fail to keep them safe…

“Remember, we walk in the Fade. The demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us.”

“Well, now I feel better.”

James hated it. Hated the Fade. Hated the way his skin was jumping and crawling with every move he made. Hated demons. Hated how everything twisted and changed when he walked up a flight of stairs. Hated that he had to fight his way through zombie versions of the people he loved at every corner…

But most of all, he hated how Solas didn’t seem to care that they were essentially in a living nightmare. That the elven mage was _enjoying_ everything they encountered. That he found some way to twist everything they met into a positive _,_ even as they saw the absolute worst images their minds could conjure.

_This is fascinating. It is not the area I would have chosen, of course. But to physically walk within the Fade…_

James grimaced. The elf had ended that particular statement with a wistful sigh, as if it was the best day of his life. Which it apparently was, as Solas answered Bull’s statement that this was a dream come true for him by saying, “Yes. Literally.” And a small laugh. As far as James knew, Solas never laughed.

_What kind of crazy person would dream about coming here...?_

And Solas hadn’t seemed at all concerned that they were moving through an area controlled by an _extremely powerful_ demon of fear. All he could say was ‘I suggest you remain wary of its manipulations and prepare for what is certain to be a fascinating experience.’

_Fascinating… he fucking said_ fascinating.

James was seriously beginning to wonder what Nassella could possibly see in the man. How she could stand talking for hours about this fucking place…

At least James knew he wasn’t the only one unnerved by everything that was happening. Stroud and Hawke were definitely interested in leaving as soon as possible, and Bull… Bull was almost having a worse time than him. He’d been grumbling the entire time, gripping his axe just a little too tightly. And James still felt a twist of dread in his gut remembering when the Qunari had announced to the entire group, while looking pointedly at him, to feint on his blindside, then go low, if he became possessed. James didn’t really know how easy it would be to get possessed, but had felt the need to remind everyone that removing his head would probably be the best way to take him down for good…

_I can’t believe Naomi deals with this almost every night… no wonder she wanted to learn to defend herself._

He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had ever been this terrified. Even admitting he was no longer dreaming back in Haven, realizing he and his siblings had found themselves in a new world, hadn’t filled him with such unease and dread. Seeing his first fight in Val Royeaux, or battling the Red Templars at Haven, had never left him so unsure, so absolutely frightened that he wouldn’t be good enough, that his abilities and skills would not keep him safe. Would not keep Nassella or his companions safe.

“Do you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered?” James grimaced, looking to the sky. He gripped his sword, ready to fight. But the source of the voice didn’t show itself, just as it had the first time it spoke. It had addressed Nassella then, calling her a silly girl, mocking her for trying to regain the memories she had forgotten in the Fade. That low, disembodied voice had been moving from person to person ever since, distracting them while they tried to destroy demons and the fearlings, poking where they were most raw…

“You couldn’t even save your city, how did you expect to strike down a god? You’re a failure, and your family died, knowing it.” James looked at Hawke as the mage grimaced.

“Of course a fear demon would now where to hurt us most. Ignore it.” James clenched his jaw. The demon had yet to address him, but he knew it would be coming. He wasn’t sure what it would say, but he knew he had to resolve himself to stay focused, to not let the fear take him over.

At least he could agree that much with Solas.

They continued through the twisting formations of rocks, encountering more fearlings along the way. There were few of them, and James never had the chance to touch them, but it was almost as bad, watching Bull nearly crush something that looked like Naomi with his axe, or see Nassella stab a version of herself in the back…

“Ah, James…” He stopped as the voice addressed him, a shiver running down his spine and across his limbs.

_Just ignore it. It’s just a demon. It’s not real…_

“It’s good to see you again.”

He felt the air leave his lungs, momentarily unable to draw in another breath.

_No. I’ve never met this thing before. I’ve never been somewhere like this…_

But he knew that wasn’t true. He had been in the Fade before. In fact, he and Naomi had potentially spent hours, if not days, in the Fade. James clenched his sword. He had fucking been in this place before, he just couldn’t remember anything that happened.

_How did we make it out alive…?_

“But where is your sister?” the voice continued. “Or your brother?” James’ stomach flipped. How could this thing know about them…? “No matter, it is for the best. You are just as ill-equipped to protect them now as the first time you walked here.”

James couldn’t move. _As the first time we were here… What happened!? Why couldn’t I protect them…!?_ He felt his chest tighten. _Is David dead because of me…?_

He felt a small pressure on his hand, his sword lowered slightly. He looked down, into Nassella’s green eyes, brows pulled together in concern.

“Don’t listen to it James. You’re strong enough to protect anyone,” she whispered.

_Right. Don’t listen to it..._

James rolled his shoulders. _No, I’m strong… this will not be like last time…_

He decided he wouldn’t even humor the fucking thing with an answer.

Around the corner they encountered the… spirit, or memory, of the Divine Justinia they had been following. James studied the woman as Nassella talked to her, ready to spring to the elf’s defense, should the Divine turn on her. He didn’t trust whatever it was, not believing that such an old, frail woman could survive for over a year in the Fade, when they themselves were just barely able to fight through the demons they had encountered. Whatever it was, he didn’t believe it was the actual Divine, which meant it was most likely a demon that might attack…

There were flashes of light ahead, and James turned to see that a number of _actual_ demons had materialized from the mist. He spread out with the others, ducking a few flashes of energy thrown toward him before he reached one of the wisps. With a few swings he had reduced the creature to a pile of glowing dust, and turned toward the next one.

When the demons were destroyed, a number of green glowing balls of light remained, more remnants of Nassella’s memories. James wandered around the rock littered clearing as the elf collected them, sticking her hand into the energy. The first time she had recovered some of her memories from the destruction of the Conclave, they had learned the Grey Wardens had assisted Corypheus. James doubted whatever knowledge she recovered this time would be more encouraging.

He turned a corner, finding a ball of light softly glowing behind a rock. He turned toward the others, calling Nassella over. She gave him a small, thankful smile when she saw what he had found, and quickly kneeled to set to work. But when her hand made contact with the light she frowned, then looked up at him.

“James… I don’t think this is mine…” she said softly. James kneeled next to her.

“What do you mean?” he asked. She pursed her lips.

“I think… it’s yours.” James frowned, his heart rate increasing.

_If this is mine..._

Could he remember what happened?

Did he want to?

Nassella had lifted her hand, bringing the ball of light closer to him. With a deep breath, James reached for the energy, and when his fingers entered the soft halo, felt a jolt of electricity run from his fingertips to his toes.

He gasped, vision suddenly fading, filled with images of him and Naomi and David… voices and feelings and smells assaulting his mind…

He pulled away when it was done, eyes suddenly prickling with tears, entire body tense and ready to flee. Nassella looked back at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging slightly open, a tear already falling down her cheek.

_No, no, no…_

He stood quickly, turning away.

“James,” Nassella said behind him. “I’m so sorry…” He shook his head, covering his eyes with a hand.

_Why did I do that? I would be better not knowing…_

“James? What’s wrong?” Bull asked. James felt his throat closing.

“I… remember,” he choked out.

“Remember what?” James rubbed his eyes to keep from crying.

_Not here. Not now._

“What happened the first time I was here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue from the game property of Bioware.


	56. Living Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. You've been warned...

_A tall man with dark hair, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and red athletic shorts, a blue bag strapped to his back, slowly sat up from the rocky ground. He looked around him, brows pulled together in a frown, and rubbed the back of his head with a hand. Mist swirled around his feet as he slowly stood, and he squinted slightly, trying to see further in the dim light._

_“David?!” he called, turning slowly around. “Naomi!?”_

_There was no answer, and the man shuffled forward, still rubbing his head. Every few feet he called out again, until, faintly from the darkness ahead, came an answer._

_The man began to run, stumbling slightly over stones as he went. But he stopped after a few seconds, peering once more into the mist._

_“Naomi! Where are you?!”_

_“Here! David’s with me!” Came the reply, louder, though still faint. The dark-haired man moved forward, occasionally calling into the darkness, until two figures appeared ahead. They met in a clearing, slightly less strewn with rocks than the surrounding areas._

_“Are you alright?” one of the figures asked, a tall woman with chestnut hair, wearing brightly colored shorts and a tank top, a backpack also hanging from her shoulders. A boy stood at her side, tall as her, though his hair was a sandy blonde._

_“Yes,” the tall man said. “David’s hurt though…” he added, concerned, taking the boy’s arm, inspecting a cut in the flesh._

_“It’s fine,” the boy said, taking his arm back with a tug. The woman was turning in a circle, frowning as she looked at the towering rocks and misted surroundings._

_“James… what happened?”_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

“It’s over Erimond. Release the mages before more lives are lost.” The black-haired man laughed, exposing a mouth of crooked teeth.

“You’re a fool if you think this will stop Corypheus,” the man sneered. “You’ve lost Commander. You’re _Herald_ is dead, and the Warden mages will die before they surrender to the likes of you…”

Cullen grimaced, indicating with a nod for the men holding the magister to take him away. Cullen ignored the final profanities spewed as the man was dragged from the fortress and tried to ignore the headache growing behind his eyes. He had some of Naomi’s tea before the battle, but the effects were starting to wear off, and his headaches were always worse the more stressed or tired he was. He made his way at a jog toward the head of a flight of stairs leading down into the fortress, approaching one of his captains.

“Rylen, what’s the status down there?”

“Maker Commander, I’ve never seen so many demons in one place. It will take days to work our way through every room in this blasted place…” Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair. All of the Warden warriors had turned to help the Inquisition, but the mages were still fighting with everything they had, and the rooms and tunnels beneath the fortress were infested with more demons than he had ever though imaginable. They could somewhat control how they encountered the creatures, minimizing the danger, but his soldiers would grow tired. Were already growing tired.

“Rylen, send three units of soldiers to get some rest. Have them return at dawn to relieve another three. We’ll have to start making rotations if we’re to keep this up.”

“Will do,” Rylen said before running off. Cullen sighed again. The soldier’s spirits were still high, especially after the dragon flew off, but he wondered how long that would last. The news that the Inquisitor had fallen into the Fade had not been spread, and for all the soldiers new she was still fighting demons, just as they were.

_Well, I suppose she is fighting demons regardless, if she still lives…_

Cullen shook his head to clear the thought. It had not yet been two hours since the Inquisitor fell, and he would not give up on her yet. Not so easily. But he wondered how long they could hide the fact that the Inquisitor was missing from the soldiers. If she didn’t reappear by dawn, he knew he would have to make some sort of announcement…

If she didn’t reappear by dawn, he would have to accept that she was gone. That all who had fallen into the Fade were gone.

At that thought he turned to return to the courtyard. When he had left, things had been just as chaotic below the rift as they were below the fortress, and he needed to ensure that the situation had not gotten out of hand…

He reached the courtyard just as a pride demon fell. He ran forward, searching the area still scattered with demons and the Inquisition soldiers fighting them for Naomi’s tall figure. He let out a breath of relief when he spotted her at the opposite side of the rift, though his gut clenched when he realized she was engaged with a shade, a pair of daggers in her hands. He made his way toward her, dodging the fighting around him, sword drawn.

“No!” he yelled when he saw her take a hit to an exposed shoulder, staggering back under the impact. He ran faster, reaching the demon as it raised its arms to strike her again, drawing its attention away from her with a slash from his sword across its back. He stepped back, catching the swing of the demon’s arm on his shield, swinging his sword once again, though it was only a glancing blow. He saw a flash of blades behind the demon, and then it fell forward, revealing Naomi, a grimace on her face.

“Maker’s breath, Naomi, are you hurt…?” he asked, stepping over the demon so he could better see her. She shook her head, rolling her shoulder.

“No,” she said, eyes shifting to look past him. He looked as well, but the courtyard was clear, the rift glowing green though not producing any more demons, for the moment. He turned back to Naomi, inspecting her face and body for any other signs of damage.

Her armor was filthy, covered in the blood and slime left behind by the demons she had been killing, now marred with scratches and cuts though it had been nearly pristine at the beginning of the night. Her face was just as dirty, and he was concerned to see the beginnings of a bruise developing along her jaw. But she was not bleeding, her fade-touched skin clearly saving her from further damage.

Still, though she was somewhat beat up, her physical condition was nothing he could find too concerning, even if he didn’t like how close she was to the fighting. No, it was the distant, almost vacant look that had settled into her eyes, the way her lips were drawn into a thin line, and the rigid set of her shoulders, that worried him.

_She should not still be fighting…_

“Naomi,” he said, reaching for her shoulder. She glanced toward him briefly, before returning to stare at the rift. “You need to go back to the camp, get some rest…”

“No,” she said, taking a step away. “I’m fine. I’m going to be here when they come out.” Cullen followed her, grabbing her shoulder again.

“Naomi, I… I know you want to hope, but you must prepare yourself for the possibility that they will not return.” She shook her head, glaring at the rift.

“They will come back!” she said vehemently. “And I am not going back to camp while they’re in there. I couldn’t stand it.” Cullen sighed.

“You’re exhausted. It’s only a matter of time before you lose focus and get yourself hurt.”

“I’ve been fighting fine. I’m not leaving Cullen,” she said stubbornly. Suddenly the rift began to spark, and they turned with their blades drawn to face the next wave of demons.

Cullen watched Naomi the entire time, trying to decide whether he needed to order her back to camp. But though she took more risks than he could bring himself to be comfortable with, there was nothing definitive about the way she was fighting that could justify sending her away. She was right. She was fighting fine.

More than fine. She was… much better than he had expected, attacking without hesitation, killing the demons with efficiency…

They were on opposite ends of the courtyard by the time the demons were all destroyed. Cullen stood for a moment, watching as she paced across the bloodstained stones. Cole appeared at her side after a moment, handing her a quiver full of arrows. She took them with a nod and jogged to a landing, sitting down with her arms around her knees. The entire time, her eyes rarely left the rift.

She was hurting, and even though Cullen wanted her to be safe back in camp, he knew it wouldn’t help her. She would hurt no matter where she was.

And he couldn’t do anything to help her.

“Commander!” a man yelled. Cullen turned to the soldier. “You’re needed down below. They found the dungeons full of demons and Captain Rylen wanted to go over how to approach them…” Cullen nodded, and moved to leave the courtyard. But before he did, he found Blackwall.

“How are things down below?” the Warden asked as he approached. Cullen shook his head.

“Worse than we thought. I’m going there now to help.” He glanced one more time toward Naomi, now joined by Sera on the landing.

“I’ll watch out for her,” Blackwall said. Cullen looked back to the man and nodded.

“Thank you… This has not been easy, and I’m not sure how much longer she will hold herself together.” Blackwall crossed his arms.

“It’s a bad deal, no doubt about it. But I’ll make sure she makes it through the night.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

_“I don’t know,” the tall man said, taking in his surroundings, just as the woman continued to do. “I thought there was an explosion.”_

_“Me too,” the woman said. “But we’re… well we’re not hurt… or dead.”_

_“Maybe it was far away,” the boy said. The woman nodded._

_“Maybe…” But she shook her head. “It doesn’t look like we’re still on the mountain.” She crossed her arms and shivered. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”_

_“Where are Mom and Dad?” the boy asked. “And Abby?”_

_“Dammit!” the man yelled suddenly, glaring at the surrounding rocks. “Where are we!?”_

_“Calm down James,” the woman said, though the shaking in her voice indicated her own unease. “We just need to… um…”_

_“I want to go back.”_

_“I know David… we’ll figure something out…”_

_“Like what Naomi?!” the man asked skeptically. She glared at him._

_“Well talking like that won’t help anything!” she yelled. She ran a hand over her hair, pulling out the tie holding her hair in a ponytail, putting it back up a moment later._

_“Maybe we_ are _dead,” the man mused, crossing his arms._

_“What?” the boy asked, clearly afraid. The woman scoffed._

_“Don’t be ridiculous...”_

_“Well we’re clearly not in Canada anymore,” the man said._

_“That doesn’t mean we’re…”_

_“What else could it be? Maybe the Catholics were right and there_ is _a purgatory… or this could be heaven…”_

_“No,” the woman said forcefully. “We are not dead. We’re just…”_

_“Naomi?” the boy whined, a few tears falling from his eyes._

_“Don’t listen to him David.” She said, grabbing his shoulder. She turned to the taller man. “Stop it! You’re scaring David!”_

_“Well how the fuck did we end up here then?!” the man demanded. The woman let out a frustrated breath, wiping a hand across her eyes._

_“I don’t know!” she yelled, glaring into the mist. “But we’re not fucking dead, ok! Maybe we’re… maybe someone took us somewhere…”_

_“Why would they do that?”_

_“I don’t. Fucking. Know!” she yelled, turning and walking a few steps away. She clenched her fists and looked around the area. She returned to the others. “But whatever’s going on, we’re not just going to sit here! We hardly have any food or water, and there’s no shelter…” The man took a deep breath and nodded, walking around the area and looking to the horizon. He stopped after a moment, staring at a point in the distance._

_“Well, I know we’re definitely not on that trail anymore,” he said, frowning._

_“That’s pretty obvious,” the woman grumbled, arms crossed. The man rolled his eyes and pointed toward the dark outlines of buildings on the horizon._

_“There. Buildings.” The woman squinted in the direction the man was pointing, and nodded._

_“Ok… that’s good. We can head toward those. We’ll find someone how can help us…”_

_“What about Mom, Dad, and Abby?!” the boy yelled suddenly. “Where are they?!” The man and woman looked back to the boy, then to each other. The woman rubbed her eyes again._

_“I don’t know…” she said softly. The man looked back to the buildings._

_“Well, they’ll probably head toward those buildings too, if they’re around. Right?” The woman nodded, adjusting the backpack on her shoulders._

_“Right. We’ll find them there. Let’s go.”_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

Nassella stared at the tombstone, her name scrawled across the top in an elegant script, and below, two simple words.

_Failing them._

She rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to suppress the shivers running through her body. She had to hand it to the Nightmare, twisted as it was, for its effectiveness. It knew exactly where to poke, what nerves it could prod and provoke to elicit the most response, send her mind into a tailspin of fear and worry, questioning everything she had done and what she had planned…

_Just remember to stay focused. Fear is what it wants. Don’t let it have it…_

But her fear… _failing them…_ was far too close to becoming a reality for her comfort. If they didn’t make it out of the Fade… if they died here…

_No! I can’t think about this!_

The little bit of fascination and interest she had had in finding herself in the Fade was wearing off. All she wanted was to get out, return to Adamant. At least there, the dangers were predictable.

She looked to the others, scattered around the graveyard. She was not the only one to have a tombstone displaying their fears.

_Madness, irrelevance, temptation, the Nothing…_

Everyone in her inner circle, her companions and friends, had their own fears displayed.

_Despair, himself, became his parents, helplessness…_

She couldn’t understand them all, personal as they were. And she didn’t like to think about how the Nightmare knew these personal thoughts, even for those who weren’t with them. But she wasn’t the only one to be affected by the words, seeing Dorian standing with arms crossed as he glared at his own tombstone, and remembering how Bull had grumbled before storming from the graveyard.

And there was Solas, staring out across the Fade, hands behind his back.

_Dying alone._

She stared at him, at the man she loved, and felt her chest clench in pain. She knew he had led a mostly solitary life, but she now wondered how much of that was by choice, if his greatest fear was the possibility of having no one by his side during his last moments. Why, if he feared dying alone, would he choose to isolate himself?

_But that fear won’t come to pass, if I can help it…_

And there was James, staring at a pair of tombstones in the far corner. She felt her eyes water again, remembering the memories she had seen, of what James and Naomi had experienced when they were last in the Fade. She wanted to hug James, comfort him, find some way to take away the pain of those memories…

But James refused to talk, had said barely a word to anyone since they left that clearing. He had simply said he remembered what happened… and then nothing.

Only she knew the thoughts that were likely running through his head, the images, the feelings. She thought of what had been on his tombstone.

_Failure._

A fear so similar to her own, but she knew it was different. Her own fear had only surfaced since she became the Herald. James had been worried about failing for much of his life. And his fear came across as an accusation, rooted in what others thought…

Then there was Naomi.

_Loss._

Nassella wiped her eyes, blinking to clear the tears. These memories would only add to that fear.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

_Three figures lay curled on the ground, close, though not touching. After a moment, the dark-haired man slowly sat up, turning his head to look at the surroundings, before standing and moving to sit on a rock. He stared into the distance, toward a set of buildings on the horizon_

_Some time later the boy began to stir, jostling the woman in the process. With a yawn the woman sat up, rubbing her eyes. When she opened them she looked around, just as the man had, and sighed. She pulled her backpack from where she had used it as a pillow, pulling out an empty water bottle. She frowned, returning the container to her bag._

_“James, do you have any idea how long it’s been?” she asked, voice cracking with dryness. The man shrugged._

_“No… and I don’t think it’s gotten dark at all.” The woman sighed again, standing slowly, trying not to disturb the boy further. She sat by the man. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered._

_“I don’t think those buildings are getting any closer,” the man said, adjusting a red bandana on his head._

_“I know,” the woman said quietly. “But we’ve been travelling for… I don’t know, at least a day. They must be!”_

_They sat in silence for several moments, each retreating to their own thoughts. The boy began to stir, and they both looked as he sat up._

_“I’m hungry,” he whined. The woman riffled through her bag, pulling out a granola bar._

_“Here David, eat this,” she said as she tossed it to him. The boy caught the food, opening the wrapper._

_“I’m thirsty too,” he said through a bite. The woman sighed._

_“I know… but we ran out of water…” She turned to a small pond located a few feet away and stared at it with a frown, before pulling the water bottle from the bag. She stood to fill the container with water. The man frowned._

_“What are you doing?” he asked. The woman inspected the water in the bottle, swirling the contents gently. She returned to them._

_“We need to have water,” she said, sniffing the contents. Hesitantly, she brought the bottle to her lips._

_“Don’t!” the man yelled, standing. “You don’t know what’s in there…” The woman lowered the bottle, shaking her head._

_“James, if we don’t get water, we’ll die in a couple of days. Anything we could get from this won’t kill us for a couple of weeks at least. And if we don’t get out of this by then…” she took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes._

_“We can get to those buildings…”_

_“James, I already feel dehydrated. If we get help at those buildings then I can get treated for anything. But we won’t make it there if we don’t get water now.” She drank from the bottle, grimacing slightly. She swallowed heavily when she was done, offering the bottle to the man._

_“Here. It’s not that bad.”_

_“I’m not drinking that,” the man said, crinkling his nose. The woman’s nostrils flared._

_“James, you have to! We can’t survive without drinking something…”_

_“I’m not drinking it either,” the boy added from where he was sitting. The woman closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. When she opened her eyes again, she glared at the man._

_“James,” she said, voice pitched low with anger. “You need to fucking drink the water, because David won’t if you don’t, and we_ need _to stay hydrated. Don’t be so fucking stubborn.” The man glared back, jaw working back and forth. But after a moment, he took the bottle, drinking deeply from the container. When he was done, he brought it to the boy._

_“David, drink some water.” The boy shook his head._

_“No.”_

_“David…” The woman crossed to join the other two._

_“You have to David. You’ll die if you don’t…”_

_“No!” the boy yelled, standing and crossing his arms. The woman clenched her fists, lips pressed together._

_“Quit being so picky!” she yelled. “You need to fucking drink something...” Suddenly the boy gasped, pointing past the other two._

_“Look,” he said, frightened. The other two turned, mouths dropping open at what they saw._

_“What is…?”_

_“That’s impossible…”_

_Down a slope, objects were moving, crawling in the mist._

_“Are those spiders?” the boy asked, voice shaking. The woman shook her head._

_“They can’t be. Not that big…” The man grabbed his bag, handing the woman hers._

_“Well we need to move, because I don’t want them to see us…” he said, voice in a whisper. The woman nodded her head, eyes blown side, breaths starting to elevate. She grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling him in the opposite direction._

_“Yeah, we need to get out of here…”_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi stared at the rift, willing it to produce her brother. Produce her friends. But it remained quiet.

_Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…_

Sera shifted next to her, muttering under her breath.

“Shitballs, fuck, shit, crap, Fade, shit, arse, demons, crap…!”

Naomi narrowed her eyes, clutching her knees tighter.

_They’ll come back. They’ll make it out. They’ve done it before…_

_The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me…_

“Shite, piss, stupid. I hate this…”

_When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up…_

The rift began to glow, and Naomi stood, clutching her bow with tensed hands, a rush of adrenaline pouring through her veins.

_Is it them? Are they back…?_

Tendrils of green spread across the courtyard, solidifying into demons of terror and rage. Naomi felt her chest tighten, pricks of doubt working their way further into her mind.

_It’s been hours. They’re not coming back..._

She clenched her jaw, pushing the thought away.

_No. They will come back…_

She shot at the demons, entirely focused on her task, as if killing them would bring her loved ones back faster. When they were dead she sat once again, back to staring and hoping and praying…

_And I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, no power in the sky above or in the earth below – indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God…_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

_The three figures ran through the mist, stumbling every now and then on rocks along the way. At the top of a rise, the woman looked back, frowning into the fog._

_“Are they following?” the man asked, slightly out of breath. The woman shook her head._

_“I don’t think they’ve noticed us… but they keep moving this way,” she answered, voice tinged with fear._

_“We need to keep moving,” the man said._

_“I’m tired,” the boy said, breathless. The woman put an arm around his shoulder._

_“I know David, but we have to keep going. We’ll rest as soon as we can…”_

_They continued forward, their pace slowing as they scrambled over rocks and ledges, never leaving the rambling mass of spiders entirely behind…_

_They reached the top of a ridge and stopped, all staring down below with wide eyes._

_“Shit,” the man said. The boy clutched the woman’s arm._

_“This way,” the woman said, pulling the others in a direction that would take them away from the new group of spiders wandering on the slope below. They followed the ridge, then descended into a valley. At the bottom they stopped, bending over to catch their breaths._

_“I’m not sure how much longer I can do this James…” the woman gasped. The man nodded._

_“I know… but we can’t stop…” The woman stood, hands clasped behind her head._

_“James…” she said eyes closed. “We can’t be on Earth. Things like that don’t e_ xist _on Earth.” The man frowned._

_“What’s that supposed to mean? How can that be?” Tears started to fall from the woman’s eyes._

_“I don’t know… but something horrible has happened… More horrible than I can imagine…” She shook her head, bringing her hands around to cover her face. The boy looked at the two adults, own eyes beginning to water. The man looked between the other two, brows pulled together, jaw working back and forth. Then he let out a growl, pulling the woman’s hands down._

_“Stop Naomi. You can’t cry now. We need to go.” The woman pulled her own brows together, but nodded, wiping her eyes with her hand._

_“I know,” she said, taking a deep breath. Then she turned to the boy, grabbing his hand. “Come on David.”_

_“I’m scared,” he said. The woman’s lips trembled slightly._

_“I know. Me too.”_

_They kept moving, pace reduced to a fast walk. They no longer looked toward the buildings for direction, instead taking paths that were the easiest to follow._

_For nearly an hour they moved, until the woman stopped, grabbing the man’s arm. She pointed ahead, toward the top of a small hill._

_“Look!” she exclaimed. Then she ran, using hands and feet to quickly move up the slope. The man and boy followed. The woman stopped short of what she had seen among the rocks, tears starting to fall from her eyes in a steady stream. “No,” she whispered, covering her mouth with a hand. The man stood behind her with eyes wide. The boy started to cry._

_“Mom?!” he cried._

_“David, don’t look,” the woman choked out through her sobs, turning to cover the boy’s eyes from the sight before them. But the boy pushed her away, staring at the woman lying among the rocks._

_The older woman was dead, face and body covered with burns and blisters, body bent unnaturally, eyes open wide but unseeing. The woman stumbled away, pulling the boy with her, hold tight on his arm. The boy followed reluctantly. They stood a few feet away, the woman sobbing into a hand. The man stared a moment longer at the older woman, then looked up with shining eyes. He scanned the slope ahead of him, pausing when his gaze fell on a second figure, larger, just as burned and broken…_

_He turned away, tears finally falling down his face. He stared at the other two, breaths starting to come quicker, shallower._

_Then from the slope, shrieks and the skittering of hundreds of legs._

_All three looked back, momentarily frozen in place._

_Then they started to run._

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

 

James fought in a daze, all thoughts of fighting with finesse or strategy gone. Instead, he swung his sword at everything presented to him, not even caring if he left himself exposed to injury…

They were dead. All of them. His entire family, except for Naomi, was gone.

He swung at the demon, the featureless piece of the Nightmare that had been left behind when the spirit posing as the Divine had driven the giant mass of eyes and legs away. He hit the creature as hard as he could, ignoring the hits he took, putting every ounce of his anger and grief into making sure it died…

He had known he would never see them again. But Naomi had always talked as if they would still be alive, back on Earth. He had thought the same.

_How naïve was it to think that? That somehow they would be ok? That somehow not everything was ruined by Corypheus?_

No. They were dead. All of them.

He crashed his sword into the demon with a final roar, chest heaving as the creature shrieked, falling to the ground in a tangle of arms. And then he hit it again, and again, and again, until it began to disintegrate. When it was gone he looked up, finding Nassella staring at him, face pinched in worry. He looked away, only to find Bull staring at him just as intently. James scowled, strapping his sword to his back.

It had finally, completely, utterly sunk in. He could never see his family again. They were gone.

_No. They’re dead._

He needed to get out the Fade. He needed to leave this terrible, terrifying place behind, so he could try and forget. Forget the images of his parent's burned, disfigured bodies. Forget the fear, exhaustion, and helplessness that defined his first journey here, feelings he now remembered all too clearly…

The demons were dead, their way clear to the rift. He ran with the others, taking up the rear, a step behind Nassella. Because as much as wanted to get out, he had no intention of leaving before Nassella. He would lose no more of his loved ones to the Fade.

They were almost there, almost free, when the Nightmare returned. Bull, Dorian, and Solas were already free, gone through with a flash of green, but he was cut off from the relative safety of Adamant with Nassella, Hawke, and Stroud by the giant demon. James felt his stomach twist in fear. It was this very Nightmare that had chased his family through the Fade.

This Nightmare was still chasing him, threatening to kill someone else he loved…

“Go!” he yelled. “I’ll distract it…” Nassella turned to him, eyes narrowed in a glare.

“No! You are not taking it on alone! Naomi is not going to lose you too…” James scowled.

“She’ll lose both of us if we don’t do something…”

“He’s right!” Hawke yelled. “Someone has to draw its attention.” The man lifted his chin. “I’ll stay. Corypheus is mine…”

“No. A Warden should do it!” Stroud countered, taking a step forward. Hawke grabbed his arm.

“You need to live. Help the Order rebuild…”

“The Wardens caused this in the first place…” The Nightmare loomed closer and James drew his sword. Nassella yelled in frustration.

“Stroud. Cover us,” she said, voice strained. The Warden nodded.

“It has been an honor, Inquisitor.” He ran toward the Nightmare.

And they ran toward the rift.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

_The man, woman, and child ran down a valley, spiders streaming down the rocks behind them. Every now and then one of them would look back, but mostly they ran. The woman discarded her bags along the way, her breaths labored, holding her side and face twisted in pain._

_“Keep going,” the man wheezed when she faltered._

_But then they reached the end of the flat ground, presented with a steep downward slope covered in loose rocks, the valley rising steeply on either side. They stopped, chests heaving, eyes wide in panic._

_Then, behind them, a green light materialized from the air, forming into a shadow. The figure lifted wispy arms, gathering a ball of light. The man turned and saw._

_“Look out!” he yelled._

_But he was too late, as the green shadow hurled the energy forward, striking the boy in the back. He fell forward, tumbling down the slope. The woman reached for him with a cry, lost her own balance, and followed him over the edge._

_“No!” the man yelled. He turned toward the green figure, watched for a fraction of a second as it gathered another ball of light, then turned back to the slope. He moved forward, scrambling as quickly as he could down the steep slope, sliding with the loose rocks and ignoring the scratches and bruises his nearly exposed skin accumulated. He had almost reached the bottom when he fell, rolling down the last few feet, dropping to the level ground with a thud._

_With a groan he rose to his feet, frantically searching the area around him…_

_And ran toward the woman, who was already kneeling over the boy._

_“David… wake up David…” she begged, face stained with tears. The man reached her, looking her over._

_“Naomi, you’re hurt...” The woman grimaced, holding her right arm close to her body, blood flowing from wounds on her face and thigh._

_“I know, but David’s unconscious…” There was a screech, and they looked up the slope where the spiders had appeared…_

_“Take him!” the woman cried, wincing in pain as she stood. The man lifted the boy, the woman helping by taking the boy’s arm over her good shoulder. Then they looked at each other._

_“Naomi…” the man said helplessly. The woman shook her head, shoulders slumped in defeat._

_There was a flash of green, a loud crack. The man and woman turned toward the sound, mouths dropping open at the sight of a glowing cloud of green, a small area in the center, showing what looked like mountains…_

_The woman moved forward, pulling the man with her, the boy between them._

_“What…?” the man asked._

_“Go through,” the woman said through a gasp._

_“How do you know we can?”_

_“Just try…”_

_They paused in front of the light._

_“Naomi…” The woman yanked the boy from the man’s grasp, crying out in pain. She stumbled forward, through the cloud, and disappeared in a flash of light. The man’s mouth dropped open. He paused, looked back at the spiders nearly upon him, and stepped through._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lord’s Prayer  
> Psalm 23  
> Isaiah 43:2  
> Romans 3: 38-39  
> Dialogue from game property of Bioware.


	57. Numb

The rift began to glow and Naomi stood, pulling an arrow from her quiver. She set it on the string, ready to kill the demons she knew were coming. Soldiers around the courtyard were doing the same, standing and readying themselves for the next wave. But there was a hesitation, a sluggishness to their actions.

They sensed something was wrong. Hours had passed without the Inquisitor making an appearance, and her absence had started to draw notice. No one knew exactly what had happened, but the mood had fallen.

Naomi felt it. Every time the rift spat out demons instead of her friends, instead of her family, she found it more and more difficult to push down the doubt, the despair…

Found it harder and harder to push away the thought, _they’re not coming back._

She’d stopped hoping when the rift glowed, stopped allowing a rush of anticipation to flow through her at the prospect of finding her brother in the courtyard. The disappointment was too much, too painful. Feeling nothing was better than that anguish.

That was why, when Dorian and Bull appeared below instead of shades, Solas instead of terror demons, she almost didn’t believe what she saw.

It was Sera, yelling, “They’re back! They’re back! They’re back!” in her ear that finally brought Naomi slightly out of her daze.

She lowered her weapon and ran down the stairs, dodging a soldier so she could grab Dorian’s arm, the mage still rubbing his head with a hand.

“Where is he?!” she yelled, gripping his arm. She looked frantically around the courtyard, finally letting a bubble of hope grow in her chest. But she couldn’t see her brother, Nassella… “Where are they?!” she asked again, shaking Dorian’s arm. The mage shook his head.

“I don’t… They were behind us…”

“That blasted demon came back,” Bull growled, a step away.

“Fasta vass…”

Naomi couldn’t move. She stared at the rift, gripping Dorian’s arm, feeling her breaths coming shorter, shallower, nausea pooling in her stomach. James was right there, just feet away, but he might as well have been on the other side of the world for all the help she could give him.

_Come back James. Don’t leave me…_

And for once, her prayers were answered.

The rift glowed again, and three figures stumbled from its light. Naomi watched as the shortest raised a hand, connecting to the rift with her own stream of green energy…

The rift snapped shut and disappeared. The crowd cheered, no longer concerned for the whereabouts of the Inquisitor, realizing that no more demons would be coming from this particular rift.

Naomi didn’t cheer. Instead, she watched as her brother stumbled forward and turned slowly in the courtyard, hands still gripping his sword, almost unable to believe that he was really there, that he had come back…

They made eye contact. He stalled his rotation, frowned, and turned away.

She walked toward him, shouldering her way past anyone who stood between her and her brother. He had started moving, weaving through the crowd, sword still in hand, and she had trouble moving her feet to follow…

She lost him in the crowd, stopping when she no longer knew where he had gone. She felt her breathing increase.

_No. He’s alive… I saw him…_

_He’s alive._

And it was over. Naomi stared, toward where her brother had since disappeared, vaguely aware that Nassella was addressing the crowd behind her. There were more cheers, and people began to move…

But Naomi didn’t really hear what was happening, hardly saw the people passing in front of her. She couldn’t move, didn’t know what she should do next, now that the demons were gone and everyone safe…

_Safe… for now. But how long will that last…?_

The whisper of pressure on her hand, green eyes looking into hers from below…

_Naomi. Are you alright?_

_Yes. Yes, I’m fine… I’m glad you’re back…_

_Did you see James?_

James. He almost died…

_Yes. He walked away…_

_Did he tell you anything?_

_No. He walked away…_

A pause. Eyes narrowed. The squeeze of pressure on her hand.

_You should go back to camp. We’ll handle things here…_

She nodded. Thought she nodded. The green disappeared.

But she couldn’t move. _Camp? Where was that again…?_

Movement in front of her, something tall and broad, more pressure, this time along her jaw.

_Naomi?_

_…Yes…?_

_Look at me… that’s right…_ Gold. Gold eyes.

Cullen. Pain in her chest. Pushed away.

_Are you hurt?_

_No._

_You can relax… It’s over. You’re safe. James is safe…_

Safe. What did that even mean anymore?

It wasn’t over. It would never be over. This could happen again…

The pressure began to move in small circles along her cheeks.

 _Naomi… love?_ Cleared throat. _Are you sure you’re not injured?_

_Yes. I’m fine. Don’t worry…_

A muffled voice approached. The gold disappeared.

Returned. A sigh.

_I have to leave Naomi. Go back to camp, I’ll find you later…_

_Alright…_

She still couldn’t move.

He almost didn’t come back.

Fingers twined with hers.

_I’ll take you back. Cullen doesn’t want you to stay here…_

Here. Where James almost died…

She finally moved, pulled gently forward…

_He was gone, then he came back. But then he ran. He’s safe, but you don’t realize. The pain is masked, muffled, muted… You should let it go. It will hurt less once its free…_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Nassella followed Cullen through the fortress, making sure the soldiers saw her, letting them know the worst was over, that the Wardens were free, that they would now be helping the Inquisition…

The demons had all but disappeared when she closed the rift. Soldiers were emerging from the rooms and passages below the fortress, clearly worn down and weary, but alive. Nassella made sure to see them, forced a smile in encouragement.

She also made sure to look at those who had fallen. Difficult as it was, the soldiers who had given their lives to ensure their victory that night deserved her acknowledgement. She was their Inquisitor and she would not ignore the sacrifice they had made.

It was a strange thought. Before the Inquisition, their deaths would bother her, draw tears to her eyes. But she would not feel this all-encompassing sorrow, the pain stabbing through her chest when she saw a face she recognized among the dead…

How was it, that in a little over a year, she had come to find herself so attached to these humans? Yes, the Inquisition spanned race, had members that were dwarves, and elves, and qunari… but humans predominated. For her entire life she had been told to avoid humans, that they had been the ones that destroyed the elves.

But now, here, with the Inquisition, she had gotten to know humans, called them friends. They were no longer an abstract, a vague group to fear. They were people. Good people. And while elves were still slaves in Tevinter, hardly better than slaves elsewhere... Well, she could no longer believe that all elves were treated badly all the time. She had hope that perhaps things could be different, and she cared, deeply, for the lives of the humans she knew.

And so their deaths hurt. And she was angry, because Corypheus was to blame. These people, _her_ people were dead because of Corypheus.

Stroud was dead because of Corypheus.

And she had been forced to choose his death because of Corypheus.

“Do you know how many were lost Cullen?” she asked wearily when they had nearly finished their tour of the fortress. The Commander sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s too soon to say… but far too many.”

“Yes… I knew this would be bloody.” She closed her eyes. “If only we could have gotten out of the Fade earlier. I could have ended this sooner. Fewer would have died…”

“It’s a miracle you returned at all,” Cullen interrupted, grabbing her shoulder. “You did everything you could. Do not blame yourself. We struck a blow against Corypheus… These people did not die for nothing. Remember that.” Nassella looked at Cullen. His brow was wrinkled, dark circles beneath his eyes, and she knew he was upset as well, even if he wouldn’t say it. These were his people too, even more so than hers, as he was the one who recruited them, trained them, knew them after all these months.

And he was right. They had thwarted half of Corypheus’ plans she had discovered from the future. They still had to keep Orlais from falling into chaos by stopping the assassination of the empress, but Nassella was confident their victory at Adamant would garner them enough influence and power, once the word spread, to secure invitations to the ball in a few short months. Though an invitation did not guarantee they would be successful. And there were the reports of spreading Venatori and red Templar activity in Orlais and Ferelden that needed to be addressed…

_Creators… there’s still so much we have to do…_

But they had finally struck a definitive blow against Corypheus. They had risen from the destruction of Haven, shown that they would not be defeated. It would still be a long road ahead…

But they _had_ to stop Corypheus. They _would._

“I will,” she told Cullen, nodding resolutely. “I will not forget. And Corypheus will pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

James stalked through the fortress, looking for something to kill, for any lingering demons that needed to be destroyed…

But there were none. The demons were gone, the Wardens free. There was no way for him to let out his anger, work out the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, or distract himself from his fear and grief.

So he walked, quickly, doing his best to ignore the carnage around him, because there were far too many burned bodies that looked like his mother’s…

_They’re dead. Of course they’re dead._

The knowledge hurt. Left an empty feeling in his chest, a constant ache in the back of his throat, a slight haze to the edge of his thoughts. And his body ached, a pain settling in his neck and across his shoulders, stomach constantly doing flips.

_Everyone… Corypheus nearly destroyed by entire family…_

He hadn’t been on good terms with his parents. He knew that. They had hardly ever seen things the same way. His parents had questioned his choices, questioned his intelligence, his ability to take care of himself. They had tried to push him to be more like his sister, more like what _they_ wanted. He’d resented how strict his mother was while growing up, the restrictions she put on his freedom.

There were times he thought he hated them.

But any hardship that had been put on him by them was nothing compared to what he had experienced in Thedas. Losing Makenzie, watching his brother die, nearly seeing his sister die, thinking Nassella was dead, seeing his sister attacked, learning to kill, taking blows that left him in excruciating pain, falling into the Fade…

Seeing his family dead.

No, nothing he had ever experienced on Earth by the hands of his parents compared to what he had found in Thedas.

And he didn’t hate them. He had never hated them.

And he had never wanted them dead.

For all the ways his parents had hurt him, they certainly also loved him. They had attended every sporting event, every musical performance, paid for his school, given him gifts he didn’t deserve, let him live rent-free, wanted him to be better…

_The last time I saw them… we were fighting. I was thinking how glad I was to be moving away from them…_

He rubbed a hand across his eyes, forcing the tears away. He would do anything to change that now, to go back to that day and keep his mouth shut, try to keep from fighting with his mother. His throat tightened even more when he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had told them he loved them.

_Have I even told Naomi I love her?_

_Naomi…_

She didn’t know. Only he had these memories from the Fade, knew what they had seen, what had happened…

She didn’t know everyone was dead.

He finally stopped moving, drawing his hands into fists, clenching the grip of his sword between his fingers. He remembered what had happened when David died…

_This will devastate her…_

And _Corypheus_ was the reason that any of this was even happening…

With a shout of frustration he lashed out, punching the stones of the wall next to him, swallowing a second cry when the impact sent pain shooting along his knuckles, through his wrist to his elbow. He shook out the limb, feeling the pain quickly dissipate. His anger didn’t.

“James?” He clenched the healed fist again. The last thing he wanted was to talk…

“What do you want?” he asked, turning toward Nassella. They were in a corner of the battlements, some distance from the others still wandering the fortress. The elf’s expression was worried, and displayed no small amount of concern. It rankled him.

“James…” she said quietly, taking a step forward. “I wanted to see how you were doing…” He shook his head.

“I will be fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Her expression became even more sympathetic, if that was possible. He pushed his grief even further away. He would not cry in front of her.

“James, it’s alright to be upset…”

“I don’t want to talk about this Nassella.” A frown flickered across her face.

“It will be better to talk about it…”

“Why!?” he yelled, anger flaring. “Why do I have to talk? Talking won’t fix anything!” He sheathed his sword on his back and crossed his arms. “I can handle this on my own.” Nassella sighed, her shoulders dropping.

“You’re hurting James. I’m your friend, I want to help.” He shook his head. Why did she want to help him? Why was she his friend? Why had she taken the time to come and find him? She should be somewhere with Solas, discussing how _fascinating_ it was to have been in the Fade…

“Well you can’t.” Talking wouldn’t take away his anger, his grief. Only time would do that. And talking certainly wouldn’t bring his parents back, or send him back to Earth, or make it so this whole terrible mess had never happened…

“James…”

“What do you want from me?!” he yelled, taking a step toward her. “Do you want me to cry? Well I’m not going to do that. And I don’t need to tell you what I saw, because you fucking saw everything too…” Nassella frowned.

“Yes, I saw what happened to you. That’s why I know how much pain you’re in right now…” James clenched his fists.

_No. She has no fucking idea how I feel right now._

“No, you don’t!” he yelled, turning away from her. “You don’t know how I feel. That was the worst experience of my life Nassella!” he continued, turning back. Nassella was glaring at him, lips a thin line.

“It’s not like I enjoyed being in the Fade either!” she responded, finally raising her own voice. “Everyone was scared and frightened and saw terrible things…”

“Not Solas,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“What?” Nassella asked, surprised. James would have laughed if he wasn’t so angry.

“Solas fucking _liked_ being there. You heard the way he talked…”

“He explores the Fade in his dreams. Of course he would find it interesting to be there physically…” James couldn’t believe she was defending him.

Except, of course she would defend him.

“It’s crazy!” he yelled. “He’s crazy! How can you be with someone who likes that!? The Fade isn’t interesting or good Nassella! It’s where demons come from! It’s why there’s a Breach in the first place! It’s why Naomi and I are here! It’s why my family…” He stopped, unable to continue, a pang in his throat threatening to bring tears to his eyes. Nassella glared.

James stared back, finally realizing what he had said. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart rate and the anger running through him. Because he also wasn’t sure why he was so angry with her, why he had felt the need to yell so much…

“That is not Solas’ fault,” Nassella finally said, voice calm, cool, the way she talked when she was trying to show she was the Inquisitor. The change in formality was jarring, hurt. “And people find dangerous things interesting all the time. That doesn’t make them bad people. And if you actually listened to what he says about the Fade, you would know it is not always like what we saw.” She lowered her arms and lifted her chin. “Of course you don’t have to talk to me about this James. And if you want me to tell Naomi for you…” James caught his breath.

_Tell Naomi… No. She doesn’t have to know…_

“No!” he said, taking a step forward. “You can’t tell her. We can’t tell her…” Nassella’s mouth dropped open.

“Of course we do!” she said, emotion bleeding back into her voice. “She needs to know what happened to your family …”

“No she doesn’t! You know what happened when David died. She can’t find out! She can still think they’re alive…” Nassella shook her head.

“I won’t lie to her James.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you can’t either. If you don’t tell her, I will…” James let out a frustrated breath, anger surging back.

“That is not for you to decide!” he yelled. “This is _my_ family! She doesn’t have to find out!”

“No James!” Nassella said, taking a step forward. “This is not a secret you can keep from her, just because _you_ don’t want to talk. And it’s not a secret _I_ will keep from her.” She backed away again. James was speechless. “I _will_ tell her if you don’t. But I know she would want to hear it from you.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, hands clenched into fists. James watched her until she descended a flight of stairs, unable to form coherent thoughts, only aware that he was angry, more than he had ever been before…

He punched the wall again, though it still did nothing to calm him. He stared at his hand until it stopped hurting, for once wishing the Fade hadn’t given him these abilities. That he’d never set eyes on the Fade in the first place.

He felt like he was moving backward. He’d jumped into training when he first found himself in Thedas, and after some initial bumps, said he enjoyed what he was doing, that he liked being there. He’d thought he’d found purpose working with the Inquisition, with Nassella, but at what cost? His family’s lives…?

The pain in his throat returned, but he swallowed to push it away.

Naomi wasn’t moving backward. She’d overcome her grief, found her place, made friends, had Cullen…

Did he have friends like she did? He certainly didn’t have a lover like she did…

With a sigh he unsheathed his sword so he could sit along the battlements, burying his head in his hands. He remembered the dream he’d had on their journey from Skyhold, when Makenzie had told him to be happy, that there were those here who loved him…

And he’d just pushed one of those people away. No, Nassella was not his lover, but she _was_ his friend, and the thought of losing that left him sick. It started to replace the anger.

_Why did I yell at her? She just cares…_

He leaned his head against the wall, trying to ignore the continuing ache in his neck and shoulders, and frowned.

He knew Nassella was right. He had to tell Naomi. Break her heart and tell her everyone was gone…

He thumped his head against the wall again. _This isn’t fucking fair… This shouldn’t be fucking happening…_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Cullen stopped when he reached the edge of camp, turning to look back at the fortress. It was still dark, though the eastern horizon was beginning to grow light with the approaching sun, and Cullen thanked the Maker that the battle was over.

One night. It had only taken one night to assault the fortress and destroy the Warden’s plans. He almost couldn’t believe it, and though they had lost many, he couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. The Inquisitor was alive, along with her companions, the demon army was destroyed, the Wardens free from Corypheus… And though he wasn’t entirely sure how it would work, having the Wardens allied with the Inquisition, he couldn’t bring himself to argue with the Inquisitor over her decision. Especially after seeing the dragon again. If it was an archdemon, and they were faced with another Blight, they would need the Wardens, even with the potential dangers… Still, under the Inquisition they could be better monitored, threats from the Venatori better controlled.

They would have to be controlled. The idea of facing another Adamant…

He shook his head, wincing slightly at the pain it brought out behind his eyes. It put him on edge, to think of the night, the demons and abominations he had seen… He tried not to compare it to the fall of Ferelden’s Circle, but it was difficult. He reminded himself that it was over, the demons gone, he had been able to fight…

Yes, he had been able to fight, but that left him physically weary, in addition to the mental exhaustion. He turned back to the camp, making his way toward his tent. With things under control in the fortress he had decided he could take some time to relax, to try and sleep.

He ducked into his tent, already working on the ties holding his armor on his body. He let out a long breath when he was free of the final piece, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders to try and work the tension from his neck and shoulders. It helped little, and his head was still pounding.

_I think I still have some of the tea Naomi made left…_

He frowned and opened his eyes. Naomi. He needed to find Naomi. How had he forgotten? He had said he would find her back at camp…

He turned to leave the tent, pain and headache momentarily ignored. He hoped he would find her sleeping, as she was likely more exhausted than him, but he felt a knot of worry forming in his stomach as he moved through the camp toward her tent. He remembered the way she had responded to him when he found her after Nassella and James returned from the Fade. She had been… calm. Too calm. He had been too distracted then by his duties, by the work he had to do to start the process of wrapping up the battle, to really notice, to consider that everything he knew about her meant she should be crying, laughing, doing _something_ to show how she was feeling…

But she had shown nothing. Yes, she’d answered his questions, but she had also barely looked at him. Hadn’t even reacted when he slipped and called her ‘love’.

He approached the tent just as one of the other stablehands, Erich, he thought, slipped from its interior.

“Erich!” he called, picking up his pace. The boy looked startled.

“Yes Commander?” he asked, fumbling until his hands formed a messy salute.

“Is Naomi here?” Cullen asked. “Is she sleeping?” Erich shook his head.

“No Commander, I haven’t seen her since yesterday…” The knot in his stomach twisted slightly.

“Do you know where I might find her?” The boy shook his head again. Cullen frowned and turned away, eyes wandering over the tents, lost. He had no idea where he should start to look.

“Um, you might try the horses,” Erich added quietly from behind. “If she’s not here or with… with you, that’s where I look…”

_Of course. She loves the horses…_

He found her there, near where Liberty was tied. But she was separated from the horse by a number of feet, the mare pulling as far away from the woman as she could on her rope, ears pulled back, feet stomping nervously. Cole was also there, wringing his hands as he looked on from a distance. He turned as Cullen approached, starting to nod.

“Yes, yes… You can help. You won’t pull away from the demon’s scent. You can help her… Make her feel…”

“What’s wrong Cole?” he asked urgently. _I thought she said she wasn’t hurt…_

“I can’t _feel_ anything anymore,” the spirit said, shaking his head, clearly upset. “ _She_ doesn’t feel. She _always_ feels…” Cullen brushed past the spirit, ignoring the panicked neigh from the horse as he approached Naomi, taking her shoulders in his hands.

She didn’t react, didn’t look at him. She stared past him, through him, lips slightly parted. Cullen had seen that look, far too often, on mages after their Harrowing, on Templars and guards and civilians in Kirkwall, on his soldiers as they fought to contain the demons spilling from the Breach…

She was in shock, unable to process the things she had seen, what she was feeling, removed from her body. _Maker’s breath! I should have realized sooner. I knew she could not handle this battle… I should have known something like this would happen…_

“Naomi,” he said quietly, gently squeezing her shoulders. “Naomi, can you hear me…?”

A pause. Then she frowned.

“Naomi, talk to me. Say something…”

“Ze laat me niet haar aan te raken ...”

Her answer startled him. What did it say about her state of mind, if she didn’t respond in Common? Cullen looked her over, finally understanding Cole’s comments. She was still wearing her armor, covered in the gore and blood from battle. Of course the horse wouldn’t let her near, even he could smell the sulfuric remains clinging to the leather.

“Yes, yes I know Naomi,” he said gently, continuing to rub her shoulders to bring any feeling back, to elicit some sort of response. “Can you feel that Naomi?”

She frowned. Nodded.

“Good… that’s good…” he said, not entirely sure if it was good or not. He tried to remember what he had seen others do in this sort of situation, how they helped someone in this condition. _What did Cole say? Make her feel?_

So feeling was good. Liberty neighed again from behind and Cullen jumped.

_We shouldn’t stay here though… Liberty may lash out…_

Cole was gone, so Cullen wrapped an arm around Naomi’s shoulder, urging her to move forward, pleased that at least she seemed able to walk. Still, they made slow progress through the camp. Eventually they reached his tent, and after a moment of hesitation, he steered her inside.

It was growing lighter, the sun nearly rising, and Cullen could see that she really was filthy, and certainly uncomfortable.

She needed to get out of her armor. But she was in no condition to do it herself. Cullen cleared his throat.

_Right. I’ll need to do it…_

He hesitated, but another look at her pale, empty expression pushed him to act. He couldn’t stand to see her like this, and needed to do _something…_

“I’m going to take your armor off Naomi,” he said quietly, hoping his words would filter through to her somehow. She didn’t respond.

He removed her weapons first, pulling her quiver gently over her shoulders, noting that she had lost her bow somewhere along the way. Then he pulled the belt holding her knives and potions from her hips. Next went her gloves.

Then he paused.

He took her jaw between his hands, running an ungloved thumb gently along her cheek, frowning at the bruise he had noticed earlier, now even darker. He took one of her hands in his.

“Naomi? Can you hear me? Can you look at me?”

Finally, a flicker of something. Eyes focused on his. His hand squeezed by hers.

“Cullen?” she whispered. He nodded.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m going to take your jacket off, alright?” She frowned, but nodded.

He undid the clasps quickly, pushing the open leather garment back off her shoulders. The sleeveless vest went next, leaving her in a cotton tunic, sweaty but free of demon remains. The sleeves ended at her elbow, and Cullen took her hand, inspecting the bruises forming along her forearms. On her shoulder, he could see the fabric was torn. His stomach clenched in fear.

_How many hits did she take…?_

He rubbed her hands between his. “Naomi? Can you feel that?” She squeezed back, stronger, and he noticed her breathing had started to elevate, color returning to her cheeks.

“Ja,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, still concerned she wasn’t speaking Common. He pushed gently on her shoulder, toward the ground. “Sit here on the bedroll, I’ll take your boots off…” She did, brows now furrowed in a deep frown. He quickly worked on the laces, pulling the shoes from her legs and feet as gently as he could. When he was done he collected her things and carried them to an opposite corner of the tent.

His head was still pounding, and with a sigh he turned to the table serving as his desk, picking up a bottle. He took a long drink, praying the herbs would work quickly. He wasn’t sure what to do next. She was still so lethargic, locked in her own mind.

_She’s certainly tired. Maybe she just needs to sleep…_

“Waar ben ik?!” Naomi suddenly yelled from behind. Cullen dropped the bottle, hurrying back to kneel by her side. She was looking around with wide eyes, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Cullen reached to take her shoulder in his hand, but she swiped it away, scrambling to back away from him.

“Waar ben ik?!” she asked again. “Wat gebeurd er?! Waar is James…” At that she stopped, tears starting to fall from her eyes. “James…” she said, face twisted in grief. She brought a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued to cry. Cullen moved closer to her.

_Maker, she doesn’t remember…_

“Naomi, he’s alright! They’re all alright. They came out of the rift, just like you said they would.” She opened her eyes, her breathing elevated. She finally looked at him, and he saw recognition…

“Wat?” she breathed through her hand. He closed the final distance between them, reaching to take her hand in his, to hold her shoulder. He looked into her eyes, red from tears, and nodded.

“He’s alive. Nassella’s alive. It’s over…”

Suddenly her arms were around him, her face buried in the fabric of his tunic. He lost his balance, catching himself with his arm before he fell completely. But Naomi still clung to him, crying into his shoulder, pulling him toward the ground.

So he lowered them down, wrapping his other arm around her back. It was what he wanted, after all, to be there and hold her when she needed to cry…

His throat started to close with a stab of pain. _If only she didn’t need to…_

She pulled herself closer, their bodies pressed together, legs brushing against his. “Cullen,” she sobbed through the fabric of his tunic. “He almost died…” Cullen felt his eyes start to water, relieved to hear her back to speaking Common.

“I know,” he murmured, rubbing her back. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Maker he was not prepared for this, to feel so much pain at seeing hers. He felt his own tears start to fall, and for once he didn’t try to stop them. He squeezed her a little tighter. “I know, I know,” he repeated. “But he didn’t. He didn’t…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ze laat me niet haar aan te raken ... = She won’t let me touch her…  
> Waar ben ik?! = Where am I?!  
> Wat gebeurd er? = What’s going on?!  
> Waar is James ...? = Where is James…?  
> (courtesy of Google translate, so I'm sure there are some mistakes)


	58. A Danger of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm.... Happy Valentine's Day?
> 
> So... this chapter is kind of a bummer, considering the holiday. I promise I didn't plan it that way!
> 
> Things WILL get happier. Eventually. I promise!

It was past dawn by the time Nassella returned to the camp. She had left James angry, nearly two hours before, unable to believe that he would even consider keeping something so important from his sister. Yes, it would be painful, and he would finally have to confront his own feelings, but this was something that needed to be told, needed to be discussed. And she _knew_ Naomi would want to know, despite the pain…

She was also hurt that James wouldn’t talk to her. She knew she couldn’t make him… but she _wanted_ him to feel like he could come to her, like he could trust her to try and help. Most of her other friends had opened up. But there were some things James insisted he keep to himself.

_Of course that is his right… I just wish he didn’t feel like he needed to._

But that feeling in itself was a little confusing. Why did she care so much that he confide in her? Why did she want him to turn to her?

_Because he’s my friend._

_And I care about him…_

Then her mind began to wander off course, suggesting that it was more than that, that she wanted him to care about her in return…

She quickly brought those thoughts under control. She should only be concerned that Solas cared about her in that way. And that was something else she was upset about. James, turning his anger on Solas, as if that would make anything better. She tried to remember that James had just learned about his family’s deaths, that he was stressed and grieving. But she couldn’t just ignore an attack on her lover, or the implication that somehow her relationship with the other elf was bad, was c _razy._ She loved Solas, including his interest in the Fade. It was part of what made him interesting, drove many of their conversations. She shouldn’t have to defend the feelings she had toward Solas. James didn’t know how she felt.

That thought had stopped her. She’d said something similar to him, as she tried to draw him out. He’d been angry, saying she couldn’t understand his feelings…

It was true, her family was still alive, but she had lost her father, lost friends. She was no stranger to grief. And she had certainly found the Fade terrifying, just as he obviously had.

But it was more than that. When James had touched that light, regained his memories, _she_ had seen them as well. And she hadn’t just seen. She had _felt_ them. His confusion, fear, exhaustion, grief… every one of his feelings and twists of emotion were also hers in those moments.

She _did_ know how much learning his family was dead hurt him. For all his complaints, he had loved them. Just recalling those feelings was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

But then James had turned toward Solas, and she had been angry once again…

The entire conversation left her in turmoil, only adding to the stress of the entire night. She had hoped to bring James some comfort by talking to him, but she had utterly failed. So after leaving him she had turned to helping in a more tangible way. Injured men and women still occupied every corner of the fortress, and it was no small task to find them, administer what medical attention she could without magic or training beyond rough field dressings. As much as it pained her, at least she knew she was helping.

And then, when she had done as much as she could, she had left the fortress behind. But she still had not returned to the camp. Instead, she had found a small rock outcropping, climbed until she was out of sight, watched the sunrise, and cried.

Cried for the lives lost that night, lost in the months before, and for those they would still lose…

Cried for the Wardens, for the Divine, for Stroud…

Cried for James and Naomi and Dorian and Bull and Solas and Cullen… for all of her friends drawn into this horrible conflict…

And she cried for herself.

It was only when she was confident that her tears would not be seen by anyone else that she left her perch.

She was exhausted when she finally reached the camp, but instead of finding her own tent, she turned to find Solas. Because she didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

She found him in his tent, lying peacefully on his back, hands interlinked over his chest. She stood for a moment and watched him sleep, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing further calm her. He would be in the Fade, dreaming with spirits, exploring memories… She briefly wondered what it looked like here, now knowing the Nightmare that had called this area home. As much as she enjoyed talking to Solas about the Fade, after being there physically she was suddenly grateful she had not been born a mage. At least she knew, when she slept, she would be alone within her own mind. She yawned, and quietly began to remove the outer layers of her armor, laying the pieces in a corner of the tent.

“Vhenan?”

She turned, finding Solas sitting slightly up. She tried to smile. “I’m sorry,” she said, padding over to his side. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shook his head, lifting up a hand to guide her down to his side, a small smile quirking his lips. “I was not asleep. Still, I nearly didn’t hear you. You can be remarkably silent.”

She gave him a real smile, though it was small, and leaned in to place a small kiss on his lips. “I would be a poor hunter if my prey could hear me,” she said as she pulled away and settled down in his embrace. He turned to wrap an arm around her body and she sighed. It felt good, to be held by him, to have him at her back, enveloped by his strong body and arms.

“How are you?” Solas asked. “It was a difficult night.”

Nassella sighed again, settling herself more firmly against him. “I’m tired, and angry, and sad… but I will be alright. Eventually.” Solas shifted slightly, and kissed the top of her head.

“I know you will. You are one of the strongest, most resilient people I have ever met.” Then, after a moment of silence. “Were you able to talk to James? He was certainly upset with what he saw in the Fade.”

Nassella sighed again. That wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to discuss with Solas. “Yes… and no. He didn’t want to talk.”

“You seem upset.”

“We fought,” she answered.

“About what?”

_What didn’t we fight about?_

But she hesitated to answer. She definitely didn’t want to tell Solas James’ comments about him, and while she wanted James to talk to Naomi about what he had seen, she had no intention of telling anyone else. Still… she could use Solas’ advice.

“There are… some memories James recovered that he wants to keep from Naomi. But I think she needs to know. He got angry when I told him he had to tell her.”

“Why would he not?”

“They would… upset her.”

“And he wishes to keep that from happening.”

“Yes.” She turned, placing her hands on his chest and looking into his steel eyes. “But she _needs_ to know what happened to them Solas. The things they saw.” She shook her head. “It’s not right to not tell her.”

He was silent for a moment, and gently stroked her arm. “I agree… But it is his decision to make,” he finally said.

Nassella frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They are his memories. You witnessing them was an accident.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “But I _did_ see them. How can I keep what I know from her?”

Solas sighed. “They are still James’ memories to share as he sees fit.” He pulled her a little closer and kissed her forehead.

“I… suppose,” she whispered. Still, she could not see how lying to Naomi would be better.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Cullen woke gradually from his sleep, roused by the whisper of demons in his dreams, though it was far from the full-blown nightmares that so often haunted him. He didn’t move, kept his eyes closed and tried to drift back to sleep, warmed by the rising desert temperatures and the soft, warm body pressed against his…

He tensed and opened his eyes. But the brief moment of confusion passed when he saw the messy head of light brown hair resting on his chest, the bridge of Naomi’s freckled nose barely visible from where he lay.

He relaxed, remembering how she had fallen asleep curled against him after exhausting her tears. He had not wanted to disturb her by moving, so had stayed wrapped around her, grateful that they were both alive and uninjured after the battle, that they could even be together. He must have fallen asleep himself at some point, lulled by her steady breathing and the feel of her body against his.

And now she was even closer. He had fallen to his back while he slept, but Naomi had followed, and was now pressed firmly to him from shoulder to hip, an arm spanning his chest and one leg thrown over and tangled with his own. He flushed slightly, realizing it was the most intimate position he had found himself in… in years, not to mention the closest he had been with her. It was also the first time he had held her without his armor, meaning he could distinctly feel the swell of her breasts against him, detect the gentle rise and fall of her stomach as she breathed…

The flush spread, settling over his body in a slow wave, pulses of heat from his groin threatening to continue the elevation of his arousal. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, reminding himself that it was far from an appropriate time for such a response. She was only there, after all, because of the pain of the battle…

And then she shifted, pulling him tighter with a small sigh, thigh brushing slightly against his clothed cock. The movement caught him off guard, and the stab of pleasure the friction sent through him made him gasp, immediately raising his heartrate.

_Maker… one touch should not do this to me…_

She moved again and he suppressed a groan. How many times had he imagined finding them in this sort of position? Except, they were always awake in those fantasies, and hands and mouths were nearly always involved, clothing was less and less often featured…

He could feel the blood continuing to rush to his groin and purposefully steered his thoughts elsewhere. He had tried to make a point of avoiding thinking of Naomi in that way, as those images invariably led to arousal, and he was not comfortable seeking release with thoughts of her, knowing now everything she had experienced.

But that had proved incredibly difficult, and now, having her here, knowing how her body felt against his... he wasn’t sure he could continue in the same way for much longer.

With a hand he carefully pushed her leg away to a more neutral position. She was still embracing his chest, but after a few moments his more heated feelings and thoughts had subsided, leaving him freedom to enjoy how good it felt to have her in his arms, how content if left him to know she had allowed him to comfort her, even if he wished she hadn’t needed to.

And he couldn’t help but hope that maybe, someday, he could wake like this every morning. Knowing that he loved her only solidified in his mind it was what he wanted. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. There was so much he wanted when it came to Naomi: to love her, in every sense of the word, protect her, see her happy…

But he didn’t know how he could do all of those things, with everything that was happening. Seeing the bruises grown dark along her arms showed he was still a long way from protecting her from all harm, and her tears from the night before attested she was not entirely happy. And while he could love her with words, when he gained the courage, he couldn’t see how he could move beyond that and _show_ how he loved her with their bodies. He _wanted_ to, but the thought of doing something wrong, of reminding her of her pain and adding to it was enough to hold him back. Progressing slowly was infinitely preferable to that alternative.

And he didn’t even know if _she_ loved him.

Still, he remembered how she had kissed him the previous night, before the battle. He’d forgotten to ask, but she hadn’t pulled away, had in fact tried to deepen the kiss. He didn’t want to read too much into it, but it seemed like maybe she _did_ want more…

He detected a shift in her breathing, indicating she was coming out of her slumber. He felt her sigh again, grip him tighter, and then tense. Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head from his chest, blinking as she stared with a confused frown at his body. He lifted himself slightly up on his elbows, and gave her a small smile when her eyes finally met his.

“Cullen?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Realization spread across her face, and she looked at the arm spanning his chest with her mouth hanging slightly open. She began to pull it away.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, not wanting to let her go. “I don’t mind…”

She paused, a blush spreading across her face. “Um… ok…”

“Of course… you don’t have to…”

She shook her head. “I want to stay…” she said, gingerly placing her arm back on his chest, this time angled so her hand was near her own head. She took a deep breath, settling into the crook of his arm. After a moment of hesitation, Cullen placed his hand over the one on his chest, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Naomi gripped him back. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said quietly.

Cullen frowned. “Why?” he asked.

“I just… don’t know what happened. Why I was so helpless…”

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “You were in shock. It’s understandable, considering everything that happened.” He sighed. “I’m the one who should apologize. I should never have left you alone…”

“You had so much more to worry about than me,” she responded. Cullen knew that wasn’t true. “It was just… so strange,” she continued, voice wavering slightly. “I… I hardly remember anything after the rift closed.”

“Really?”

She sniffed. “Well… I know I talked to Ness, and then you, and then Cole was there… but I can’t remember what you said… or how I got back to camp.” She sniffed again, louder. “I don’t like that I can’t remember…”

_So she doesn’t remember I called her ‘love’. That is said I loved her…_

“It’s over now,” he said gently. “Everyone is safe. _You’re_ safe.”

 She nodded. “I know.” Then she sighed heavily, squeezing his hand suddenly. “But they almost weren’t! James and Nassella almost… they nearly didn’t come back…”

“But they _did_ ,” he reassured her.

“I know, but they’ll just go back out and be in danger again…”

“Naomi,” he said gently. “They have been in danger before. It is part of what they do.” It was why he hadn’t wanted her to fight. This war and conflict were so far from her experiences, and she had not been hardened to the reality that not everyone returned.

“I know… but _seeing_ it,” she said sadly, then a sniff. “I just… I just need to not think about that so much…”

_Yes. Reliving those moments will only lead to heartache…_

“Remember they are skilled fighters. They fought their way from the Fade because they are not so easily defeated.”

She nodded against his chest, but remained silent. For several moments they stayed that way, hands clasped, chests rising and falling together. Cullen wished she would never have to leave.

“How are you?” she eventually asked, voice a whisper.

Cullen frowned, trying not to think of the battle and the horrors he had seen the previous night. He focused on Naomi instead, her presence reminding him that not everything was death and demons and nightmares.

“It was not easy,” he said softly. “But I have seen worse things… I will be alright.”

She squeezed his hand and lifted her head, blue-green eyes meeting his. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. It is over now.”

She nodded and tried to smile, lifting the corners of her mouth. She sat up more fully, reaching to adjust her hair, revealing her back. Cullen noticed another tear in her tunic, along her shoulder, and he remembered her saying she had been hit and was immediately concerned.

“Naomi,” he said, sitting up to reach and touch the hole in the fabric. “What happened here?”

She looked over her shoulder. “It’s where the archer hit me…”

“What?!” he asked.

She turned around and pulled the collar of her tunic to the side, revealing the front of her shoulder and the circular purple bruise coloring the skin. “A Warden…” But she trailed off, leaving her thought unfinished.

Cullen reached to touch the skin, marveling that more damage had not been done.

_Maker, if she wasn’t fade-touched…_

“I was lucky,” she said quietly. Cullen looked into her eyes, incredibly grateful she would no longer be fighting. Even with her fade-touched skin, these injuries were still too much. She looked back, then gently took his hand. “Thank you, for finding me, and staying with me…”

His heart fluttered. “Of course.”

He didn’t need to pull her into a kiss, or ask, as she moved toward him, lips parted in welcome. He met her, bringing a hand to cup her jaw, eager to taste her after the grueling night. But the kiss was short, their lips barely brushing against each other before she pulled away. Her face flushed pink and she ran her tongue along her lips, an action that only made Cullen want to kiss her again.

“Cullen, I…” she started to say, then stopped and cleared her throat. Her blush darkened and she turned away, a flicker of a frown crossing her features.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, once again afraid he had done something wrong.

Naomi shook her head. “Nothing. I just, um… need to find James. So I can finally see he’s alright…”

Cullen stood, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet, relief washing over him. “Would you like me to come with you?”

She shook her head again. “No. I think I should talk to him alone.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

James finally wandered into camp for the last time a little after midday, exhausted but not wanting to go to sleep. He’d been avoiding his bed for hours, assisting with the wounded and dead at the fortress. Although, he realized it hadn’t been the best way to keep himself occupied. All he could see now were the bodies he had helped remove from the fortress, and every face of every person he knew among the dead…

It just added to the distress he felt from learning his family had been killed. He walked through the camp with those faces flashing through his mind, losing his way at least two times before he ended up outside his tent.

But he didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to sleep.

He entered just long enough to grab his bag, then moved again to find a quiet corner of the camp where he could clean his armor and weapon. The sun was at its zenith, the day hot, so he searched the camp and its surroundings until he found a strip of shade behind an outcropping of rock. He stripped from his armor, soiled with demon remains and Warden blood, and pulled rags and oil from his pack. With a sigh he sat, and set to cleaning the grime from the metal. Many of the pieces were new, as much of his original armor had been damaged beyond repair by the giant in the Forbidden Oasis, and he wanted to keep the metal near pristine as long as he could. He made sure he was as thorough as possible, painstakingly cleaning every groove and crevice. He focused as much of his attention as he could on his task, keeping his mind occupied with the mundane thoughts of armor maintenance.

Unfortunately, the task was _too_ mundane to keep his mind from wandering to the night’s events entirely, and he often found himself pausing his work, lost in those images…

And then he would snap back, rubbing the plates of metal with more vigor, determined to keep himself distracted, if only for a few more minutes.

Still, when Naomi found him, he was lost in the memories he had recovered from the Fade, remembering how his mother looked, burned and broken among the rocks…

“James, there you are!”

He blinked, drawn from the memory with a start. And he stared up at Naomi, who looked so much like their mother, with the same nose and eyes and hair, smiling down at him with love and relief...

He felt his throat catch, tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

It was like seeing a ghost. He watched as she sat down next to him, still smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re alright…”

She reached for his shoulder and the touch finally pulled him from his haze. This was no ghost, some figment of his imagination. It was his sister, sitting here trying to be _happy_ , despite everything, completely unaware that anything was wrong…

He didn’t want to tell her, wanted her to continue to be happy in her ignorance, living her life thinking that their parents and sister were alive back on Earth.

But the memories and stress and grief and her presence finally collided, and before he could stop them, the tears he had tried to keep controlled the entire night were running down his cheeks, leaving hot trails down his face. Naomi’s expression fell, and she squeezed his shoulder.

“James? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and covered his eyes. _No, no, no… I can keep it together…_

He felt her pull closer. “Oh James, it’s alright…”

“No it’s not!” he exclaimed, removing his hand so he could look at her, letting go of any of the control he still had. Her eyes were wide, already shining with her own tears. “They’re dead Naomi…” He felt his voice catch. It was the first time he had said it out loud.

“What?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He was still crying, but now he couldn’t stop. “Mom and Dad and Abby… they’re… they were killed by the Breach…”

She was shaking her head, brows pulled together. “No… No. They weren’t with us… You can’t know that…” Her voice cracked.

“I remember now, what we saw while were in the Fade,” he said, unable to control his crying. “We saw Mom… and Dad…” He stopped and covered his mouth with his hand. “They were there, and they were dead…” He saw her again, his mother with unseeing eyes and burns over nearly every inch of her skin. He choked on a sob and squeezed his eyes shut. “We were fighting and I was thinking I hated her when I left… And now they’re dead…”

He lost it, finally giving in completely to his tears. He fell slowly to the side, vaguely aware that Naomi’s arms were around him, the shaking from her body indicating she was crying as well.

The next thing James knew he was waking up, head pressed against something warm, soft pressure on his shoulder. He heard the sounds of someone humming above, and after a few bars, recognized the tune. A song he knew he would only ever hear from one person.

_Amazing grace._

_Naomi._

He sat up slowly, trying to remember why he would be sleeping on Naomi’s lap. He looked at her, and at the sight of her red, troubled eyes, knew immediately.

_I told her. She knows._

Once sitting he rubbed a hand over his face. It was strange to wake when he hadn’t intended to fall asleep, and with no recollection of any dreams. They sat in silence, and James realized that, despite everything, he felt better. Some of the tension was gone from his shoulders, some of the strain in his chest and around his heart released. He was still sad, and angry, but some clarity had returned to his thoughts. He noted the shift in the shadows, realizing he had likely been asleep for hours.

He turned to his sister, marveling that she had stayed with him this entire time. She was staring straight ahead, grief hardening her features. He reached for her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. She clutched him back.

“I’m sorry Naomi… I didn’t want to tell you…”

Her brows pulled together. “It’s good that you did.” Her voice was ragged, barely audible.

“I love you,” he said quietly. He had to tell her, before it was too late.

Her lip quivered slightly, a tear falling down her face. “I love you too,” she whispered back. She turned to face him. “You’re sure James? You’re sure they’re gone? Could it have just been a figment of the Fade…?”

A lump formed in his throat. “I’m sure Naomi. They’re gone.” She closed her eyes and nodded, leaning her head back against the rock at their backs.

“They know you loved them,” she finally said. “Don’t feel bad about fighting…”

He stared at the sand in front of him. Of course she would try to make him feel better… “I’ll try,” he answered quietly. But he wasn’t sure his parents had known he had loved them.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His throat tightened. “Not really… not right now.”

She gripped his hand. “Ok… that’s fine…”

They sat, unspeaking, for several minutes.

Finally Naomi stood, pulling her hand free. “I need to go… be alone,” she said. She looked down at him, eyes wandering over his face, hands clenched into fists. And then she walked away.

James didn’t move. He hardly thought, his mind mercifully quiet, and didn’t notice Nassella approach until her bare feet filled his field of view. He looked up at the elf. She sighed, jumping right into what she had come to tell him.

“James… I wanted to apologize. I was unreasonable. If you don’t want to tell Naomi, that’s up to you. I won’t say anything until you do…”

_Well. It’s too late for that._

“I already told her,” he said.

Nassella’s mouth dropped open. “Oh,” she whispered, then she frowned and began to fidget with her hands. “I’m sorry James, I didn’t mean to push you into it…”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t you.” _I wouldn’t have been able to keep it from her anyway…_

Nassella shifted her weight on her feet. “Maybe I should find her…”

“She wanted to be alone.”

“Oh…” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to be alone too?”

James looked up at Nassella, cleaned after the battle, her hair down and swept to one side, skin tanned from their time in the desert, cheeks flushed red.

She was beautiful.

And she also looked miserable.

He knew she would leave if he asked, but he didn’t think she wanted to leave. And despite their argument, he wasn’t angry with her. Not really.

And even if he didn’t want to talk… he didn’t want to be alone.

He stood, bending to collect his things. “No, I don’t,” he said. “I could use some food though.”

She let out a sigh.

“Alright. We can do that.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Naomi sat with her back against a rock, bare feet buried in the sand in front of her, warmed slightly by the residual heat from the day. The sun had already set, and she was staring up at the sky, at the constellation Equinor, one of the many patterns Cullen had showed her those months ago.

She stared at a tiny, faint star toward the constellation’s center, consumed by the heaviness that had settled over her chest and heart when James told her their family was dead.

She’d taken to imagining that the star in the center of the horse was Earth’s sun, somewhere across the galaxy. She would imagine her home planet circling that ball of light and energy, holding her parents and sister, grieving the loss of herself and her brothers, but _alive_ and going about their lives. Continuing onward just as she tried to do every day.

She knew it was foolish to pick such an arbitrary spot to fixate on when visiting her home in her mind. She had no idea where Earth was in relation to Thedas. She didn’t _really_ know how she had come to be in this new world, besides the vague understanding that somehow the Fade was involved. For all she knew Earth was nearly in the same place as Thedas, just separated by some fabric of space and time, like the Fade was separated from this world. She hadn’t studied physics, but knew there were theories about different universes, alternate realities. It was possible her and her siblings had been pulled from one such reality to another by a warp in space and time… It at least seemed to her that the Breach was caused by such a warp, the fabric between Thedas and the Fade compromised until one spilled into the other. She supposed it was a lucky thing that her and her brothers hadn’t been destroyed immediately by a difference in the properties of matter, or slowly, as they found themselves in a world based on silicon instead of carbon…

The possibilities made her head hurt, and she was far out of her area of study and expertise to really consider how she came to be here. She just accepted it as fact…

But it really didn’t matter if Earth was a billion light-years away, or hiding just out of sight by a barrier between two similar, but different universes. Because no matter where Earth was, her family was not there.

They were dead.

She couldn’t even muster the energy to shed more tears about it. She was still exhausted from the night before, crying over James and Nassella _almost_ dying, and she had sat for hours, James’ head in her lap, crying because it wasn’t _fair_ that everyone had been pulled into this mess, that nearly her entire family had been destroyed by Corypheus…

She understood why James had cried for so long, until he fell asleep. She knew not everyone grieved with tears, but she had the suspicion that her brother had never properly grieved for himself, never really faced his own feelings when it came to being in Thedas, faced everything he had lost…

But she had. For months she’d been grieving because her home was gone, that she would never see her parents or sister again. She thought she would be over grieving for herself, but this revelation brought back to the surface everything she missed, everything she had lost.

But she also cried because they shouldn’t have died. They should have been spared from death just as her and James had. She had cried because James was crying, torn up by his own grief and guilt.

And she had cried because she knew it was a very real possibility she would find herself crying again, after receiving news that James or Cullen or Nassella or Dorian or Varric… would not be coming back.

She knew she couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, had told Cullen as much that morning, but it was so hard to stay positive…

It was the danger of love. Loving people meant losing them. It meant that, someday, that person she loved would be gone forever, leaving her to fall apart, and then try to pick up the pieces alone…

But the alternative, to just be alone…

Naomi shook her head. That could not be an option. She could not allow herself to think that pulling away would save her from sorrow, that she would somehow be better off not loving at all.

She didn’t like to think what she would have to do to keep from falling in love anyway.

She looked down at the book in her lap, tracing the cross on the cover. As much as she wished they weren’t gone, she had to believe that at least her family was together. That somewhere, somehow, David and her mom and dad and Abigail were in heaven. And happy. They wouldn’t be grieving for her and James. No, they would be wanting them to continue on…

She looked up when soft footsteps approached, crunching slightly in the sand. She quickly recognized the broad shoulders and blonde head of Cullen, and felt the pressure around her chest increase and tears begin to pool in her eyes.

_I guess I’m not as done with crying as I thought…_

She loved Cullen. But it terrified her to think she could lose him.

“Naomi?” he whispered into the dark.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said softly, trying to control the emotion in her voice. She wasn’t entirely successful, as Cullen was clearly worried when he answered.

“I’ve been searching for you. Cole finally pointed me here… Is everything alright?”

She sniffed and looked up at him, his face in shadow. She lifted a hand. “Sit with me?”

He lowered himself with a small sigh and Naomi moved over, until she was leaning against his side, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She held him back and leaned her head on his shoulder, grateful he wasn’t wearing his armor again. It was the one good thing she could remember from that day; waking next to him, his strong arms around her, warm body pressed to hers, his scent enveloping her...

“I talked to James,” she told him.

“That’s good,” he responded, still worried.

Naomi sighed, a tear leaking from her eye. “In the Fade he… remembered what happened, the first time we were there.” She felt him tense.

“You were there? Long enough to remember?”

She nodded, then squeezed him back. “We saw our family there… our parents… and sister…” Yes, she was definitely not done crying.

“What…?” Cullen breathed.

“They’re… gone…”

She was pulled more fully into his embrace, his arms fully encircling her, tight enough to nearly be uncomfortable. But Naomi just gripped him back, once more crying into the fabric covering his shoulders.

“Oh Naomi…”

He was crying too.

_I’m not alone._

The thought nearly took her breath away.

Cullen was there.

She wasn’t alone.


	59. Sleeping Arrangements

Naomi finally pulled away from Cullen’s shoulder, wiping her eyes and her nose and her face until she was dry. She couldn’t imagine how he found her attractive, knowing what she looked like when she cried.

_One day, I won’t cry like this in front of him…_

But Cullen just squeezed her shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Is there anything I can do?” he murmured.

Naomi sighed. “Just… being here is enough for now.”

“Of course.” He paused. “Always.”

She didn’t know what to make of that. She wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to believe he meant it.

They walked back to camp and Naomi gave him a final hug.

“I’m going to find James…”

She didn’t want her brother to be alone. Not on a night like this.

James was surprised when she showed up at his tent, but he let her in with hardly a question. They had shared tents before, as their family often camped, but they had been children the last time they had sought each other out to stave off the fears that came with the night.

But that’s what they did that first night, sleeping a short distance apart but reaching toward each other in the space between their bodies. Naomi hardly slept, knowing what would likely await her in the Fade. It was a wonder she hadn’t had nightmares when she was with Cullen that morning.

By the way James tossed and turned all night, she knew he slept nearly was well as her.

Despite everything, the next day was easier than she could have hoped. It wasn’t like when David died, when she had been sick and torn from every source of support.

No, this time she had her work, her friends. Other than knowing her family was dead, nothing else had changed. She didn’t have to mourn their sudden absence. She’d already known she would never see them again.

And she refused to fall into the same depression as when David died.

Her lack of sleep meant she was exhausted by the second night.

Still, she and James talked.

“Did you see Ness today?” he asked.

“Yes. We didn’t really talk…” _Because I started to cry the moment she hugged me…_

“Did you tell anyone what happened?”

“No. Not yet.”

She almost fell asleep, and then her curiosity got the better of her.

“James… what exactly did you see? In the Fade?”

He turned to his back and stared at the sloping ceiling of the tent. “You don’t want to know.”

“You shouldn’t be the only one who has to deal with it.”

“I’m not. Ness saw too…”

“I know, but I can handle it…”

“No. You don’t need the details,” he said. But then, eventually, he continued. “We nearly didn’t make it out,” he whispered. “We were chased by… giant spiders. Fearlings. It felt like days… If the rift hadn’t opened when it did, we would have died too…”

Her stomach flipped. “Try not to think about that James. We can’t dwell on what _could_ have happened…”

After a long pause he spoke again, angry.

“It’s Corypheus! This is all his fucking fault!”

“I know,” she responded sadly.

“Why aren’t you angry?” James demanded.

“Being angry won’t change anything.”

Solas found her in the Fade, when she finally slept.

“I am sorry Naomi. The Breach took far too much from you…”

“Thank you Solas, but I’ll be alright.”

He studied her for a moment, brows slightly furrowed. Then he looked away, toward the surrounding Fade.

“I thought I would provide a warded space, so you have the opportunity to be alone…”

She wanted to hug him, but knew it would be too strange. Still, she would be forever grateful for the peace that small gesture gave her, the freedom she gained to process her grief on her own, without the influence of spirits or demons in her mind.

She was almost able to pass as if nothing was wrong by the third day. Of course, that was only to those who didn’t know her. She knew she smiled less, laughed less, talked less…

She certainly thought more about her family than she had in months. It threatened to reduce her to tears more times than she could remember, but Cole was nearly always there, his hand in hers, to pull her from her darker thoughts.

And Cullen, busy as he was reorganizing the army after the battle, found her whenever he could get away to give her an embrace, a kiss to her forehead.

“How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. Thank you…”

It was a constant reminder that she wasn’t alone.

Dorian asked her if something was bothering her at dinner. She couldn’t lie to him, and by the time she went to bed that third night, nearly everyone knew.

And though she didn’t want to talk, Varric and Dorian made sure to assure her they would, whenever she wanted, and Bull nearly crushed her as he pulled her into an embrace as she returned to James’ tent.

She wasn’t the only one who received their support.

“It’s weird,” James said, “how much everyone cares.”

“Why? They’re our friends.”

“Yeah… I guess they are…”

On the fourth day they began to move, leaving Adamant behind with the Chargers, and a contingent of soldiers to reduce the fortress to rubble.

She cried when Liberty still wouldn’t let her near.

She rode a different horse instead, one that had belonged to a fallen soldier.

Watching the fortress retreat behind her reminded Naomi of the battle, and everything else that had happened during that night.

She brought it up when she found Cullen riding next to her on Obsidian during the day’s march.

“I killed someone,” she said when they were somewhat separated from any others.

“That was always a possibility,” Cullen murmured. “But you cannot blame yourself. It had to be done…”

“Did it though?” She sighed. “I didn’t have to be there. It didn’t have to be me… But if I wasn’t there, the archer might have killed Sera, or Vivienne…”

Cullen drew Obsidian closer and reached to take her hand. “Naomi,” he said, looking earnestly into her eyes. “You did the right thing. Don’t regret keeping your companions safe.”

She wanted to believe that.

She woke two times that fourth night, as James found himself gripped by nightmares.

“James… do you want to talk about it…?”

“No… no. I will be fine.”

“It might be better to talk.”

He paused. “I just keep seeing her…”

She didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Try to think of her back home… Not like that.”

They were silent for a number of minutes. “It’s hard to come up with good things,” he finally said. She could hear the guilt in his voice.

Naomi turned toward her brother and reached for his hand. “Remember how good her spaghetti was?”

“What?”

“Her spaghetti. It was delicious.”

“Yeah… it was.”

“And that casserole she made, with the chicken and the rice?”

He sighed. “I miss that.”

“Me too.” Another few minutes passed. “They went to almost all of your sporting events in high school, Mom and Dad.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know.”

“They only ever wanted the best for you… that’s why they pushed.”

He didn’t respond.

“They would be proud.”

He sniffed. “You think?”

“Yes. I know I am…”

The next day, Nassella announced she would be leaving the next day with a small group for the Free Marches, to find her clan.

Naomi pleaded with James that night not to go. He stubbornly refused to listen to her.

“James… maybe you should take a break. It’s only been a few days since the battle…”

“I want to go.”

“I know, but…”

“Ness needs my help Naomi. I’m going to give it.”

Naomi knew he wouldn’t change his mind.

“Just… come back. Please.”

“I… can’t promise that,” he said.

It was like a kick to the gut, how aware they had become of their mortality.

She started to cry. “Promise you’ll try.”

“Of course I’ll try.”

She cried again when Nassella’s group rode away the next morning, quickly outpacing the slower moving army and leaving them behind. Leaving Naomi behind.

She didn’t know if she would see James again. If she would see Nassella again.

It was her reality. She had to accept that.

That night, she didn’t know what to do. With Solas gone, she didn’t know what she would meet in the Fade, and the thought of reverting to sleeping next to Dane and Erich after being with James, someone she loved and trusted, was unappealing.

She stayed up late, sitting by the horses, wishing Liberty would stop being afraid of her. And when she grew cold, she wandered the camp.

She found herself outside of Cullen’s tent.

But she only approached because she could see a candle illuminating its interior. It was late, far past midnight, but he was still awake. She didn’t think she had ever met someone who worked as much as Cullen.

“Cullen?” she whispered into the dark.

He was at the entrance, pushing back the canvas flap, within seconds. His hair was coming out of its careful styling, a stray curl falling across his forehead.

“Naomi? Is something the matter?”

She fidgeting with the sleeve of her tunic, immediately unsure what she had hoped to accomplish by coming there.

“No… I just… couldn’t sleep.” She started to turn away. “Sorry, I shouldn’t bother you…”

He reached for her, gently grabbing her arm. Then he cleared his throat and dropped his hand, rubbing the back of his neck with the other.

“You can… um… stay. Here. That is, if you want…”

“I… would like that.”

He looked surprised, but lifted the flap further and let her in. Then he awkwardly pointed out an extra bedroll...

He went back to his paperwork and Naomi settled under her blanket. Cullen blew out his candle a few moments later and crawled under his own bedding.

The next thing she knew she was in the Fade.

Ever predictable, a demon appeared. But by then she knew what to expect, and this particular spirit was fumbling, obvious.

It didn’t make the images of her family it showed her any less painful.

She woke to Cullen hovering over her, wiping the tears from her face and gently coaxing her from sleep.

“Naomi, it’s alright. It’s just a dream…”

_If only that was true._

“It’s not fair Cullen…”

“I know. I know…”

The next time she fell asleep, it was with his arms around her.

It helped, while she was in the Fade, knowing at least her body would be safe with him.

But the next morning she woke with Cullen gripping her almost painfully tight, his body shaking and drenched in a cold sweat.

“No… leave me…”

“Wake up Cullen, you’re dreaming,” she said, turning as best she could to shake him awake. He woke with a start, immediately releasing her and rolling away, covering his eyes with a hand.

“Maker… I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright Cullen. You know I have bad dreams too.”

“Id’ just... hoped you wouldn’t have to see me like this.”

She thought of all the times he’d seen her at her worst, the number of times she’d broken down in front of him. Despite his withdrawal, Cullen had always seemed so much more in control than her.

But she quickly realized that he was far more troubled than he’d let her believe, and that he had been underplaying his symptoms to her. Pain and headaches kept him awake late into the night, and she suspected he was almost always able to pull her from bad dreams because he hardly slept himself. And when he did sleep, he was nearly always pulled into waking prematurely by nightmares.

She shook him awake nearly as much as he woke her.

“Another bad dream?”

“They almost always are… Without lyrium they’re worse.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

He sighed and drew her closer, his body warm against her back. “I would not burden you with these images.”

She squeezed his hand where she clasped it over her stomach. “Ok… But I’ll listen, if you change your mind.”

He never did, and even as her time in the Fade improved as they distanced themselves from the Approach in both time and miles, his nightmares persisted. She tried her best to help, but there were only so many pains herbs could dull.

“Does the tea help at all?” she asked after a week. It hurt, to see him so troubled.

He didn’t answer right away. “Not with the dreams… but I do sleep better, when I don’t have them.”

That was at least somewhat encouraging.

Still, later that night when Cullen had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, Naomi tried to memorize the way he felt wrapped around her, the strength in his arms and the steady rhythm of his breathing. She knew not everyone survived giving up lyrium. It may have been over a year, but she worried about the way his symptoms were progressing.

She finally sang herself to sleep.

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine._  
_You make me happy when skies are grey._  
 _You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you._

And then the final line, whispered like a prayer.

_Please don’t take my sunshine away._

With every day that passed, Naomi found herself thinking about her family’s deaths less and less. It was gradual, happened so slowly she couldn’t identify the day things began to change for the better. But eventually she started to smile more, held conversations with Dorian and Varric without dropping out halfway through, could think about her parents or sister without wanting to burst into tears.

She started to enjoy the scenery again, and took in the changing landscape of Orlais as they moved with increased interest, and reminded herself why she had been glad to leave Skyhold in the first place, so she could see more of the world…

She wasn’t happy all of the time, but there were more often moments when she was.

Nights were still the worst. She didn’t have nightmares every night, but she could never predict when they would occur and it made her hesitant to fall asleep. Cullen stayed up late working every night. She knew he avoided sleeping as well.

She took to reading her Bible by the dim light of Cullen’s candle. Not only did it calm her mind, but if she was lucky, she fell asleep while she read.

And if she didn’t, she would talk with Cullen until she could.

“What are you reading about tonight?” he asked as he settled under the blanket over two weeks into their journey. They had seen the Frostback’s on the horizon earlier that day.  

She turned toward him with a yawn, resting her head on her arm. “Ruth and Naomi.”

“Naomi? I thought this was your holy book?”

“It is,” she replied, running her hand across the cover in the dark. “I’m named after a woman from it… My parents named all of us after people from this book, actually.”

“Oh…” Cullen said. “What did this other Naomi do?”

She sighed. “It’s… interesting, actually. I never really paid attention to her story before, but I came across it a few months ago, and then reading it again…” She looked toward Cullen’s face, though she couldn’t really see it in the dark. “Naomi moved with her husband and two sons to a new country because of a famine. But her husband died, and then her sons died. She was left in a strange country with no family… One of the passages actually says, ‘This left Naomi alone…’” She blinked to dull the prickles forming in her eyes.

Cullen reached to take her hand in his own. “You’re not alone.”

She gripped him back, warmth spreading through her chest. She blinked some more. “And Naomi really wasn’t either. She returned to her home country with her daughter-in-law, Ruth. Ruth refused to leave Naomi alone, insisted she stay with her. Ruth became her new family…” She closed her eyes. “Ruth told Naomi, ‘Wherever you go, I will go; where you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried…’” She stopped, her face heating as she blushed.

She didn’t tell Cullen that those words had inspired the traditional wedding vows of her religion in her world, because as she said them she knew she meant them. That she had essentially told him she couldn’t imagine leaving him. That she didn’t like to imagine her life in this world without him.

She felt the words _I love you_ forming, threatening to spill past her lips. But she swallowed them. She didn’t expect him to love her back, and she didn’t want to find herself in a situation where he awkwardly tried to avoid responding, or felt pressured into saying something he didn’t mean.

Things had been going well the way they were. She would not jeopardize what little stability she had cultivated by prematurely blurting out her feelings.

“You feel your life has been like hers,” he sympathized.

“I can’t ignore the parallels…” she said softly, though she was certain her parents had not intended her life to follow the Biblical Naomi’s life this closely when they named her. “Except for one part of the story…”

“Oh?”

“The name Naomi means pleasantness,” she explained. “But when Naomi returned to her home country, she wanted people to call her Mara, which means bitter.” She gripped Cullen’s hand. “Naomi let what happened, losing her family and life, define her and change her so much that she wanted her name to reflect that. But I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to be bitter about this. But… it’s sometimes hard to see the good. And if something happens to James…”

Cullen pulled himself closer, fumbling slightly to bring his hand to her cheek. He gently stroked her skin, a calming gesture that just made Naomi love him more. “You won’t… You haven’t. You are the least bitter person I know. You don’t have to be like your namesake in every way.” He cleared his throat. “And like you said, Naomi had Ruth, and you have people like that as well. You have me…” he paused and cleared his throat again. “And you have the Inqui— Nassella,” he added quickly. “That won’t change, no matter what happens to James.”

A lump formed in Naomi’s throat, along with another urge to blurt out _I love you_. Hearing Cullen compare himself to Ruth, who had said those things to the Biblical Naomi, promising to be there forever…

She tried not to let her mind get carried away, sure he had not meant to imply so much. It was just her, desperate to know she was loved, to replace the love she had lost. He couldn’t really mean forever…

Cullen’s hand was still on her face, thumb gently stroking her cheek, and Naomi began to feel a second urge, this one much more physical.

He was so close. She could almost detect the heat emanating from his body, suddenly became aware of the way their knees brushed together. She could certainly smell him, the spice of sweat he hadn’t washed away from the day. She reached for his own face without thinking, rubbing her own thumb across the stubble covering his beautiful jaw. She felt the slow movement of his throat as he swallowed.

She didn’t know if Cullen loved her, but he certainly liked her, cared for her. He had spent these weeks with her as she grieved, never suggesting she was overreacting, or that she should be done crying.

They’d hardly kissed the last two weeks. Even sleeping next to each other hadn’t pushed them together intimately, as she worked through her grief and he dealt with nightmares. So many nights she had fallen asleep crying, or he had woken with headaches, that it never seemed the time. And then her time of the month to bleed had arrived, and she hadn’t exactly felt attractive…

But that had ended two days earlier, and now they were mere inches apart, neither of them crying, or sad, or frightened…

She moved toward him, feeling him respond a second behind. He pressed his lips to hers, letting out a long breath that fell in a whisper across her skin. She adjusted to take his bottom lip completely between her own, running her fingertips along his scruff, warmth and pleasure flowing through her body, building in slow surges when he matched the movement of his lips with hers.

How had she gone this long without kissing him like this…?

The next time she moved she used her tongue, dragging it along his parted lips, feeling the subtle ridges of his teeth as she did.

Cullen moaned, the sound sending an unexpected shot of heat straight from the apex of her legs to deeper in her core. He gripped her jaw slightly tighter and pulled away, though he left his forehead resting against hers.

“Naomi…” he breathed, his voice pitched lower and slightly ragged. The sound just sent another pulse of pleasure through her. But she didn’t know why he had stopped.

She felt her face heat. Maybe she was doing it wrong… badly…?

Why did she have to be so inexperienced?

“Sorry. Was it… not good?”

Cullen let out a long breath. “Maker, no… It’s… It’s quite the opposite…”

That made her face grow even warmer.

“I just…” he continued. Then he sighed. “I just want to be sure I know what you want…”

 _He’s_ still _afraid he’ll hurt me…_

Never in her life had she imagined she would find someone who would so often put her own feelings before his own. She _knew_ he would never do something she didn’t want, and it seemed he intended to ask along every step of the way. But he was doing more than that. He was waiting for her to initiate.

She swallowed to remove the lump forming in her throat. It felt strange, made her nervous, to have so much control over their physical relationship. She’d spent her entire adolescence and adult life a _voiding_ physical contact when she could, that the thought of initiating intimacy, left her… entirely lost.

And if she was honest, she’d always expected any man she found herself with would be the one to push forward, that she would be asking him to stop, not asking him for more.

It was what she had expected with Cullen. It didn’t bother her because she trusted him. Trusted he would go slowly and stop when she asked.

 _But why?_ she asked herself. _Why can’t I make the first moves…?_

She knew there was no reason she couldn’t. Cullen was what she wanted, someone who saw and treated her as an equal, who didn’t consider what he wanted as more important than what _she_ wanted. In fact, hadn’t she been the one who asked him to kiss her that first time?

But mixed in with that logic and those arguments were her underlying personality and insecurities, the years she had spent hiding herself, avoiding anything that made her uncomfortable…

 _But this doesn’t make me uncomfortable… It shouldn’t. I_ love _him, and I want… I want to do_ everything _with him… eventually…_ She swallowed again, heart thumping in her chest so loudly she was sure Cullen could hear.

He’d asked what she wanted, and she wanted everything. From kisses on the cheek to sex.

But not yet. She’d only had her first kiss three months or so before, after all, and she knew jumping ahead too quickly would end badly. And there were other considerations when it came to sex than just what she _wanted_ …

And Cullen had only asked what she wanted _now._

It certainly couldn’t hurt to be more assertive, to take control of this aspect of her life.

“Right now, I want to kiss you,” she whispered.

He did, guiding her mouth back to his with a tilt of his hand. And this time, when she tried to explore with her tongue, he didn’t pull away.

But he did more than that, as he responded in kind, using his own tongue and lips to kiss her back.

They were slow, careful, their movements shallow and hesitant at first, but growing bolder and deeper as one moment stretched into two…

Naomi lost track of time, as she focused entirely on Cullen and his mouth. The way he moved it against and with hers, the shivers every swipe of his tongue sent across her face, down her spine, and lower. How warm his breaths felt on her skin, the way she smelled him and could taste the elfroot he had used to clean his teeth, the small sighs and barely audible murmurs he let slip from the back of his throat…

She had never felt so close to another person, even as space physically separated most of their bodies, except for the way she twisted her feet with his. Her entire body was rolling with pleasure, and by the time she finally pulled her lips away from Cullen’s to catch her breath, she was nearly aching with arousal.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her response. By the sound of his own breathing, Cullen appeared to be just as affected as her… She swallowed, took another deep breath, and tried not to think about what was happening between his own legs.

_God… I might be ready to go further sooner than I thought…_

Then she yawned, removing her hand from where she had buried it in Cullen’s hair to cover her mouth.

"Sorry," she mumbled. 

Cullen stroked her cheek. “You should get some rest,” he whispered. Then he sighed and removed his hand from her face. “We both should.”

She sighed herself, pulling herself more completely under her blanket. “I know.”

It seemed to take hours before she calmed down enough to fall asleep. And when she finally did, it was knowing that they could kiss like that again.

And again, and again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruth 1  
> Dialogue from game property of Bioware


	60. Regrets

They moved quickly as they left the Approach, outpacing the Inquisition’s army and covering more miles than James could ever remember travelling in a single day before. He’d noticed Nassella had been agitated the days after the battle, not only working herself down from the flush of adrenaline and anxiety she’d experienced, but increasingly worried for her family and eager to see them.

He could relate, now more than ever. She hadn’t seen her clan in over a year, had been forced to adjust to a human world that was nearly as unfamiliar to her as it was to him. He’d seen her push aside her own homesickness and longing to see her family, focusing instead on her duties as Inquisitor, doing what she needed to stop Corypheus. He’d done the same. But hearing her family was in danger had pushed her over some sort of edge, and he knew she wouldn’t be content, wouldn’t be happy, until she saw them again.

It was too late for him. He’d struggled to accept that, to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t say he was sorry to his mom, tell his parents he loved them. After everything that had happened… it was more difficult to justify to himself why he had fought so much with them, why they had so often not gotten along. He didn’t know why he had let what they said affect him so much, why he so often let himself get angry when he was with them.

And know he would never be able to change that. He could never change how he left his parents behind, the last things he had said and thought as he walked away.

He would regret that for the rest of his life.

He told himself he would not make the same mistake with Naomi. She’d often said it was only the two of them, that they only had each other… He hadn’t really taken her seriously until now, hadn’t really considered what she meant.

But he knew now. No matter what happened, what friends they made or lovers they took, they would be the constants. He could count on Naomi to love, support, and help him whenever he needed or asked, and even when he didn’t. He would do the same for her.

He decided he would never leave things with Naomi as he had with his parents. He’d always had a better relationship with her than anyone else in his family, but they still fought. He didn’t imagine that would change, but he would make sure that any time they parted ways, they would do so on good terms, that she would know he cared, that he loved her.

It made leaving more difficult. He remembered the way she had asked he come back. It had hurt, knowing he couldn’t promise her he would, thinking about how much it would devastate her if he didn’t return. And after Adamant, part of him wanted to put down his sword, stay behind so he could be safe, so she wouldn’t have to worry.

But a larger part of him, the part driving him to follow Nassella across Thedas, knew he had to keep fighting. Yes, he could die, but that could happen anywhere… what happened to his family was proof enough of that. But fighting meant he could help make this world safer, that he could increase the chances that Naomi would be safe. That Nassella would be safe.

And if something _did_ happen to him…

Naomi would be alright. And he would die doing something important. Doing something that mattered.

As difficult and horrifying as the battle at Adamant and their excursion into the Fade were, James walked away with his hatred and anger toward Corypheus rekindled. He was determined to do everything he could to bring him down, even if it meant leaving his sister.

They reached Val Royeaux in four days. Nassella wanted to book passage on a ship that would take them to Wycomb. They would have been in the forests with her clan in days.

But they were intercepted by one of Leliana’s scouts at the docks while looking for a ship heading in the right direction. Nassella read the report the man had handed her, worrying her bottom lip and rubbing an earlobe between her fingers. After a moment she sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily.

“Is something wrong Ness?” James asked.

Nassella sighed again. “Yes… Someone tried to kill Josephine.”

“What!?” Blackwall asked, shouldering past James to reach for the letter.

Nassella gave it to him. “She went back to Skyhold after our success at Adamant, but hadn’t been there a day before an assassin tried to attack her. Luckily someone walked in and was able to stop him…”

“How could this happen?” Blackwall demanded.

“Leliana is looking into how the assassin infiltrated Skyhold, but Josephine has received information from some noble here in Val Royeaux about who could have sent the assassin after her. She’s on her way now to meet him, and wants me to be there…”

There was a pause.

“What about your clan?” James asked.

Nassella looked at him, her shoulders slumped. “It will have to wait. Josephine needs my help.”

It would take four days before Josephine arrived in Val Royeaux, so they stayed in the house Vivienne kept in the city. James spent his days wandering the city with Blackwall or Nassella, appreciating even more than he could the first time he was there how beautiful it was.

He appreciated the people less so. It was unnerving, how the Orlesians always wore masks, and he didn’t like how he couldn’t tell if they were looking at him, or what expressions they made beneath the metal. And he couldn’t understand how they could be so _short._ He towered over every one of them.

But their attitudes were the worst. It only took one day walking through the market next to Nassella and Solas, the elves dressed simply, showing no indication of who they were or their importance in the Inquisition, to see just how little Orlesians thought of elves.

He knew knife-ear was a derogatory term, but more than once he heard the people they passed casually throwing the word around. He knew if he could hear, Solas and Nassella could as well, but they were stoic and barely showed they were bothered by it. But he knew Nassella was, noting the way she would clench her fists and set her shoulders, holding her head just that much higher to show they couldn’t hurt her…

He eventually had to ask her about it.

“How can you stand it?” he asked. “Tell them you’re the Inquisitor…”

Nassella just shook her head. “No. I won’t hide what I am behind that title. Let them show what they really think of elves…” James could hear the anger contained in her voice.

He had to admire her restraint. He was near snapping as it was, and the insults weren’t even hurled toward him.

Otherwise, as there was no room to train with Blackwall anywhere in Vivienne’s house, he would sit in the library, flipping through her collection of books, learning about history and politics and magical theory. Reading had never been his favorite thing, but it was better than doing nothing, and he realized there was still so much he didn’t know…

Solas joined him the third night.

The elf wandered in sometime after dinner, pausing in the doorway when he caught sight of James. They stared at each other for a moment, but James just turned back to the book he was reading and Solas entered the rest of the way. After a few moments Solas settled in a chair with a large tome.

“I did not expect to find you here,” he said as he opened the pages of his own book.

James frowned and clenched his jaw. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I simply don’t recall seeing you make much use of the library in Skyhold. I did not think you enjoyed reading.”

James glared at the elf over the top of his book. “I’m more educated than most people here, you know,” he said. “It’s not my fault the things I learned aren’t really relevant anymore.”

“Of course not.” Solas paused. “But you’ll admit you have not supplemented your education much since you arrived.”

James felt himself growing angry. After learning of his family’s deaths, Solas had expressed his sorrow, but it seemed to James that any concern the elf had once had was fading with time. He suspected the other man’s change in demeanor was linked to the amount of time James had spent talking with Nassella on their journey as he gradually found himself turning toward the elf after leaving Naomi behind. Any anger he had toward Nassella after the battle had faded, and she was the one other person he wanted to be sure he kept on good terms. He cared too much, and they were too often in danger, to let arguments ruin their friendship.

Solas, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter, and the man was trying to belittle him. Again.

“Excuse me for thinking that learning how to defend myself and fight in this place where everything tries to kill me was a bit more important than learning about Chantry history,” James replied, feeling the patience he had with the elf growing dangerously thin. He only had so much tolerance for Solas and his subtle, and not so subtle, jabs at his intelligence.

“They need not be mutually exclusive.”

“I know that.”

James returned to reading his book and tried to ignore the awkward silence that had fallen between them. But instead it became stifling, and James found himself reading the same sentence over and over. He glared at the page, wishing Solas had never come to the library.

He just could not bring himself to like the elf, and what had started out as simple jealousy had turned into genuine dislike. The constant condescension was bad enough, but what had really started to bother him was Solas’ fascination with the Fade. The elf talked constantly about it, and had, on more than one occasion on their journey to Val Royeaux, excitedly commented on it. James found himself revisiting those memories enough in nightmares, more vivid than ever after Adamant, and to have Solas look on that time fondly…

It couldn’t be healthy, and it worried him that Nassella didn’t seem to find anything wrong. James couldn’t see how someone so kind and level-headed and down-to-earth could stand to be around someone who liked dreams more than reality, who loved something so dangerous.

But after Adamant he had also told himself he would never say something to Nassella again. He _had_ to accept that Solas was Nassella’s choice, and find some way to move past his jealousy…

It occurred to him that he could ask Naomi why Solas might like the Fade so much, since their dreams were similar. But he felt himself growing increasingly panicked as he thought of his sister sleeping, knowing now what could be found in the Fade. James thought of the Nightmare they had encountered and cringed. He didn’t know what the creature would look like when not physically in the Fade, but the thought of Naomi facing something like that alone, even in a dream…

And he didn’t understand why it was her, why she was the only one who had to face such dangers.

With effort, he forced himself to ask Solas.

“Why don’t I dream like Naomi?”

Solas looked up. “I do not know.”

James frowned. “You must have some idea. All you think about is dreaming.”

“I think about a great deal more than dreams,” Solas replied stiffly. “As for your question, I can only imagine she has a stronger connection to the Fade, or was more affected by your journey here. Any more details would be speculation.”

James shook his head. “But she told me it didn’t start out like that. She said she had normal dreams at first…”

“It is true her nature as a Dreamer has evolved…”

“So what happened?” James demanded. “Something must have happened.”

For a few moments they said nothing, as Solas stared across the room and James switched between glaring at the elf and his book. Eventually Solas spoke, voice infuriatingly calm.

“When I searched for your brother with Naomi, I showed her how to escape her own dreams. The next time she left, she did so on her own. It is possible the same would have happened to you, had I sought your help instead of hers.”

James stared at the elf, his mouth dropped open. Then he slammed his book shut. “You’re the one who taught her how to do this!? You’re the reason she can never be safe!?”

“She is not always in danger, and she has cultivated her own defenses…”

“Yeah, like shooting arrows at something like that Nightmare is going to help her!” James yelled, standing. He needed to get away from Solas, to cool down before he said something he regretted. He couldn’t believe this was all Solas’ fault, that his sister was terrified of sleeping because of the elf...

Solas stood as well. “Being able to physically defend herself has certainly helped, but dealing with spirits encountered in the Fade is more a test of will and character above physical prowess. She is far better equipped than you would be to deal with the residents of the Fade.”

James glared, feeling his entire body growing warm. “You think she’s better than me,” he said.

Solas placed his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. “I believe she has a better grasp on her own emotions, more control over extremes of anger and passion, inherent optimism that overcomes her darkest grief. I have seen how demons fail to gain traction in her mind. And she has learned of the nature of spirits and what they desire, unlike you, making her far more prepared than you seem to realize.”

James clenched his fists, but said nothing. Instead he turned and left the library, pulling the door shut behind him a little harder than he intended, the slam of the wood just emphasizing his anger. He replayed what Solas had said in his mind as he stalked through the halls toward his bedroom, aware how ironic it was to be so consumed by anger after what the elf had just said.

Halfway there he met Nassella, beautiful with her hair down and smiling at him fondly. But her smile faded as they drew nearer.

“Is something wrong James?” she asked, reaching for his arm to stop his advance.

He glared at the floor and took a few deep breaths, reminding himself of his decision to never alienate Nassella again by voicing his complaints about Solas.

“It’s nothing…” he mumbled.

Nassella sighed. “James, I know it’s not nothing.”

He let out a frustrated breath, knowing she wouldn’t let it go. “It’s just something Solas said…”

Nassella dropped her arm. “Will you two ever get along?” she asked wearily.

James felt himself blush. “Sorry. I wasn’t… trying to argue…”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.” Then she ran a hand through her hair. “I just… wish you wouldn’t. I can’t handle having you two on bad terms right now…”

James ran a hand over his face, chest clenching with guilt. She was so stressed, and he was letting his personal feelings jeopardize her own.

“I’m sorry Ness. I didn’t mean…”

“I know you didn’t. And I don’t expect you to like each other, but please, for me, be civil. I need to know that I can count on both of you when we’re out in the field. I need to know that you’ll have each other’s backs out there.”

That made James pause. Hearing that Nassella thought he might neglect Solas when they were fighting, or let his dislike for the man color how they fought together in a negative way… it made him sick.

“Ness, it doesn’t matter what I think of Solas. We’re on the same side, of course I have his back…”

She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I… I know that. I shouldn’t have asked.” She sighed. “It’s just there’s so much to do, and so much at stake…”

James pulled her into a hug without thinking, bending slightly to adjust for their height difference. “You can always count on me. I promise.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Naomi turned slowly in a circle and tried to get her bearings. Travelling again meant that every night in the Fade was different, and it always took her a few minutes to determine whether it was likely to be a peaceful night, or not.

They were in eastern Orlais, far from the Western Approach and Adamant, and nothing about her current surroundings suggested anything was amiss. It was peaceful, actually, with the hills and rocks less jagged than usual, the mist glowing softly like during an early morning sunrise, instead of the ominous swirls that always seemed to accompany darker dreams.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh and cool air, the exact opposite of the humid, pressing air she had left behind in the tent. They’d left the dry air of the desert far behind, and now the hot, wet air in the interior of the continent made the days almost unbearable. It reminded her of Nebraska summers, when her slightly wavy hair would start to frizz and curl, her skin would always be shiny with sweat, and every piece of clothing she wore clung to her skin.

It had taken forever for her to get comfortable enough to fall asleep, and she and Cullen could only stand to lay with their fingers brushing together. Any additional contact just created far too much heat.

If she were home, or alone, she would sleep in her smalls, or without anything at all…

_Maybe I can shorten some breeches... or cut off the sleeves of a tunic? Make something…?_

Suddenly the sound of clapping, whistles, and cheers drifted from her right. Naomi opened her eyes and looked toward the noise. She’d never heard anything like it in the Fade.

Cautiously she moved in the direction of the noise, though it had gone silent. She rounded a rock outcropping and stopped, staring at what she saw.

It was a set of metal bleachers, facing away from her, the silhouettes of a number of people scattered along the seats. Another cheer ran through the crowd as she approached.

She slowly worked her way to the front of the bleachers, staring at the people, dressed in shorts and jeans and t-shirts. They were vague, mostly featureless, but there was no doubt they were _her_ people, a group of Americans watching a sporting event…

“Naomi! Up here!”

The voice startled her, but not because it was loud and unexpected.

It startled her because it belonged to her dad.

Blinking away the sudden tears, Naomi scanned the crowd again until she saw him, sitting next to her mom and Abigail...

But that was wrong. The version of Abigail she saw couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and her mom was holding a baby.

Naomi climbed the bleachers slowly, not quite able to believe what she was seeing, not understanding why she was seeing it at all.

“Here, sit next to me…” her dad said, patting the space next to him.

So Naomi sat, slowly. Her dad also looked younger, his hair only slightly streaked with gray, thicker too, with fewer wrinkles than she recalled.

But it was him, eyes just as bright blue as she remembered, smiling at her in his lopsided way…

Then the crowd cheered and her dad looked forward. Naomi looked as well, seeing now the figures moving through the mist in what she recognized as a football game. But they were short, and Naomi wondered whose game they would be watching…

Her question was answered when a figure detached himself from the others sitting along the sidelines, crossing the track and growing clearer with every step he took.

And there was James, short and scrawny, nearly overwhelmed by the shoulderpads he was wearing beneath his jersey, dark hair long and cut in a bowl that nearly covered his eyes. He hadn’t looked like that since he was thirteen.

“Dad!” he yelled from the track.

“What!?” her dad yelled back.

“Can you get me a hotdog!?”

Her dad let out an exasperated sigh. “No!” he yelled. “Go back to the bench and watch the game!”

Naomi watched James’ shoulders slump, but he turned and slowly returned to the bench. She couldn’t help but grin. She remembered this now, watching her brother’s middle school football games with her family. James had never been a good player, and was easily distracted, but it had been fun to watch him when he did play.

“That boy needs to learn how to focus,” her mom said from the other side of her dad. “He’ll never get any better this way…”

“He’s only thirteen Aleida. As long as he has fun.”

Naomi suddenly had the urge to speak, words spilling from her lips with barely a thought. “He doesn’t have to like football…”

Her mother sighed, giving her a small smile, gray eyes crinkling slightly. “Of course not. But he does need to finish things he starts, and do his best while he’s out there.”

Her dad squeezed her mom’s leg. “He’ll be fine.”

Her mom rolled her eyes. “I know Hans.”

Naomi felt a few tears slip out of her eyes and quickly wiped them away. She didn’t know what had prompted this memory, but getting this chance to see her parents, happy and alive…

“What’s wrong?” her dad asked, nudging her shoulder with hers. Naomi wiped her cheeks again.

“Nothing,” she said, smiling at her dad, and at her mom beyond. “I just love you guys.”

Her dad laughed and wrapped his arm around her in a one-armed hug. “We love you too Nomi.”

Naomi grinned at the nickname, given to her by Abigail when her sister was too little to pronounce her name correctly. Only her dad had continued to use the nickname once Abigail grew out of it, and then only infrequently.

“What brought that out?” her mom asked, shaking her head. Naomi knew why she asked. Their family hardly hugged, hardly expressed their feelings.

But she hugged her dad back, once last time. “I just want to make sure you know.”

Her dad squeezed her shoulder. “We know.”

 

\----- 

 

Naomi woke slowly, mercifully cool in the early morning. She blinked and looked up at the ceiling of the tent. It was mostly dark, but she could detect the barest hint of light. It was early, but it wouldn’t be too long before they would need to get up and pack for the day.

She sighed, thinking about her dream. It had made her happy, so see her family like that.

It was the first time she’d seen a truly _good_ memory in the Fade. All her bad memories came from demons… which meant this one came from a spirit?

And she smiled. Bittersweet as it was, she couldn’t bring herself to be sad, to grieve. She’d told them she loved them, said goodbye.

It was enough. It had to be.

She turned her head to the side, toward Cullen, still sleeping next to her. She turned fully to her side, resting her head on her arm, and studied him.

The light was dim, but her eyes were adjusted enough to make out his features, the profile of his nose, his jaw, his lips…

She loved looking at him, and loved how peaceful he was when he slept. As long as he wasn’t having nightmares his brow would smooth, his lips would relax and reveal the way they turned slightly up at the corners. He looked younger, happier, as if the world hadn’t tried its hardest to break him, like he had never known hardship, or torture, or anger.

It was what he should look like all the time. She knew he hadn’t told her everything, but she knew enough to know he hadn’t deserved it, no one deserved what had happened. But such hardship was frighteningly common here.

She frowned. Yes, such occurrences were too common, too normal, and nothing guaranteed something horrible wouldn’t happen again…

Cullen sighed, letting out a long, deep breath, and Naomi smiled. At least that morning he was waking up naturally, not ripped from a nightmare, and she knew he would be well-rested and the rest of his day would be better for it.

He sighed again and shifted his hands, drawing Naomi’s eyes. She propped herself up so she could better admire the broad planes of his chest. He was wearing a tunic, but it was thin enough to show hints of the contours and ridges of his muscles, the perfect way his body was tuned to wield a sword, to fight and defend. Naomi swallowed, remembering how it felt when they held each other, how much better the warmth of his body against hers felt than the cold, sharp edges of his armor.

It was awkward at first, but now Naomi found nothing about hugging and holding Cullen uncomfortable, and was glad they had started to do it more often…

It also meant that her private thoughts, her most intimate fantasies, had taken on greater detail and better clarity. It was now much easier to imagine what Cullen would feel like flush with her, skin on skin, those muscles pressed against her, the way they would clench and move as he hovered over her, kissing her and touching her and entering her…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, falling to her stomach so she could bury her head in her arms. She’d thought about sex for years, even as she avoided it, and imagined what it would be like. But it was only now, with Cullen, that she really began to understand how good it would probably be. And the way they’d started kissing… God, she _wanted_ it. Badly.

But they couldn’t, because sex wasn’t just about them and how much they liked or loved each other, or how good it would feel.

Because sex, in its purely original, biological function, was about reproduction.

Sure, Naomi knew culturally sex had changed, morphed, become something that went beyond having offspring and creating the next generation. And she didn’t believe that sex should only be for having children. But she couldn’t ignore the biological side, the potential consequences.

If she was on Earth, she would have access to reliable birth control, Cullen could use condoms. The chances of her becoming pregnant would be essentially eliminated.

But her hesitation wasn’t just about contraception. Naomi remembered reading about herbs used in Thedas to prevent pregnancy, and the fact that all of the women in Skyhold weren’t currently pregnant suggested there were ways to avoid it, potentially with good success.

Naomi wanted children, had always imagined having a family. And she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she would never regret having a child with Cullen, and if she was on Earth, she felt confident she could handle a pregnancy, even if unexpected or unintended.

But not now, not here. Not while Corypheus threatened the world. Not while Cullen was in danger. Not while she was still so unsure, so unsettled about living in Thedas.

The thought of being left alone, in this world, with a child to care for, left her chest clenching in panic.

Cullen began to stir in earnest, and Naomi looked up to see he was awake, eyes blinking groggily in the dim light. Naomi put her thoughts about sex and children aside. They weren’t relevant, at the moment, as she didn’t even know if Cullen loved her, and he didn’t know that she loved him…

Naomi watched as Cullen turned his face toward her, his lips turned up in a small smile, his eyes crinkled as his gaze found hers. Her throat closed with a sudden pain.

What was she _doing_ not telling him how she felt? If something happened and he didn’t know… could she live with that regret?

She remembered her dream and her parents, and how they had never really let each other know they were loved, that they cared. She knew they did, but it was usually just implied, assumed.

But why? Why hadn’t they said anything? Why hadn’t they realized how quickly everything could change, how quickly it could end, and done _more_. Been kinder, more patient, expressed their love in words…

Cullen shifted and turned so he could reach for her face to stroke her jawline, his smile growing. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Did you have a good night?” he asked softly.

How could she doubt how he felt? How could she be afraid of how he would react, when he looked at her like this? Why was she willing to let her fear hold her back?

“Yes,” she whispered back. She turned back to her side and wiggled herself closer to Cullen’s body. He raised his eyebrows and lowered his hand to her shoulder. She placed a hand gently on his chest.

But she paused, every scenario running through her mind of the ways Cullen would react badly to her feelings, awkwardly fumble through an excuse, pull away or ask her to leave…

But she couldn’t imagine Cullen doing any of those things, and she couldn’t continue to be afraid, to hesitate.

She wanted Cullen to say he loved her back, but even more, she needed him to know she loved him.

“Is everything alright?” Cullen asked.

Naomi sighed. “Yes, yes… I just… wanted to tell you…um…”

_Come on! Just do it…_

Cullen propped himself up further on an elbow, frowning. “Naomi…?”

“I love you!” she blurted out suddenly, face immediately growing hot, her stomach flipping in panic. She removed her hand from his chest and covered her eyes.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

“You don’t… don’t have to say anything,” she said quickly, voice starting to shake, acutely aware that Cullen hadn’t said anything. “I just… just…”

_Just what? Need him to know in case he dies? Need to prove I’m not afraid…?_

Cullen had yet to say anything, and Naomi was struggling to keep her heart rate from running away. Every second that passed felt drawn out, and she just _knew_ she’d made a mistake, that he was trying to let her down…

“What?” he breathed, and the desperate, hopeful strain contained in that single word forced Naomi to lower her hand so she could look at him.

He was motionless, but his eyes were locked on hers, brows raised above them almost in surprise, in confusion.

But his lips were parted, the corners ghosting up with the hint of a hopeful smile, and she could see the way his breathing was elevated…

She felt herself smiling back, lips turning up on their own accord, her heart now racing with excitement.

“I love you,” she whispered again.


	61. Love and Science

“I love you.”

There. She’d said it again. He hadn’t misheard, she hadn’t misspoke. Naomi had looked right at him, smiled, and said three words he thought he would never hear.

_I love you._

Cullen closed his eyes and let out a long breath to calm his racing heart. He’d been sleeping next to her for weeks, holding her while she cried, feeling the warmth of her body, falling asleep to the calm, steady sounds of her breathing… but he’d not expected to hear this.

For the first time in years, he had started to look forward to sleeping, or rather, to everything surrounding sleeping. He no longer spent hours lying awake and dreading his dreams. Now, when he couldn’t sleep, he would still be holding Naomi. And when he woke from nightmares it wasn’t to his empty bed and echoes of screams in his mind. No, instead he would wake with her hand on his face and the murmur of her voice in his ear.

Nearly every night he had wanted to tell her he loved her. But it never seemed the right time, with her grief and his nightmares…

But none of that mattered now.

She loved him.

He opened his eyes and looked into her own. She was smiling hopefully, beautiful even with her hair unkempt from sleep. He realized his grip on her shoulder was probably a little too tight.

“I love you too,” he almost whispered, the words flowing past his lips more naturally than nearly anything he had ever said before.

_I love you, I love you, I love you…_

He watched her smile grow, but then her brows pulled together in doubt. “Really?” she asked, voice catching on the last syllable.

Maker, he had failed, if she didn’t believe him.

“Yes…” he breathed through a laugh. “Yes! Of course I love you…”

And she laughed back, her hand travelling to grip the back of his neck. But he didn’t need her fingers buried in his hair and pulling him down to bring their lips together.

He loved kissing Naomi, but now that he knew she loved him everything about it was better, sweeter. And he loved the way he could feel, during this kiss at least, the way she was still smiling and laughing…

He was grateful for the time he had had to accustom himself to her presence, to her touch, especially when she pulled him closer so he hovered entirely over her body, their lips still locked. He lowered himself further, propped up by his elbow just enough so his chest could brush against hers. Every point of contact still left his heart racing and heat spreading through his body, but he had better control over his responses, could kiss her and hold her without being overly aroused.

But Maker, he longed to let go, to let the feelings she could already draw from his body consume him, to discover if he could make her feel the same…

Naomi pulled away with a final tug of his upper lip and a sigh. He opened his eyes to see a small, pleased smile splashed across her face, eyes slightly hooded as she looked at him. She ran her fingers along his scalp, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You love me…” she whispered, almost to herself.

Cullen smiled. “Yes, I do,” he said back.

She sighed again, her fingers still running through his hair distractingly. “I should have told you sooner,” she finally said.

“Sooner? When did you know?”

She cleared her throat, those fingers still moving… “Since that day on the walls when I told you how I felt.”

He caught his breath. “That long?”

She shrugged. “Yes.”

“Maker, I should have told you weeks ago…”

She raised her eyebrows. “Weeks?”

He sighed. “I knew during the battle but… I should have realized sooner.”

She shook her head and smiled wider. “It’s fine… we know now. That’s all that matters.”

He grinned, moving to kiss her again.

_Yes. We know now._

\----- 

 

Cullen put the final touches on Obsidian’s saddle, every strap tightened and saddlebag in place, ready for the day’s journey.

He couldn’t keep himself from smiling every few moments as his mind invariably wandered back to Naomi. He hadn’t seen her in over an hour, since she had slipped from his arms, mumbling about needing to relieve herself and start her day, but he couldn’t get their kiss out of his mind, could almost feel her lips still moving against his.

And he couldn’t get the sound of her voice whispering _I love you_ out of his head.

Thirty years. He had waited thirty years to hear those words. Part of him still thought it was too good to be true.

He turned away from his horse with the intention of finding her before they got under way to steal another kiss, but found himself confronted by Vivienne.

“Commander,” the mage said, chin held high. “Might I have a word before we begin our journey for the day?”

“Of course Enchanter,” he said, though something in her tone put him on edge, made him feel like he had done something wrong.

Vivienne led him to the edge of the camp, separating them slightly from the noise and commotion as the army finished the final packing for the day. Finally Vivienne stopped and turned toward him.

“I have noticed you spending a large amount of time with… Naomi,” she said, pausing as if she had momentarily forgotten her name.

Cullen felt his face heat slightly. He hadn’t tried to hide his interest in Naomi, once he knew she felt the same, but he still found it strange to discuss his relationship so openly with others. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I have.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, but changed the subject. “At Adamant three arrows failed to pierce her skin, and I was reminded of the strange condition you brought her to me in Haven. Perhaps you would be able to answer questions I have regarding her injuries… Or rather her lack of injuries. I was under the impression she was not a mage.”

Cullen ran a hand through his hair. Naomi’s origin was not something that needed to be widely distributed, and he couldn’t see how telling Vivienne that the woman he loved was from a different world would be necessary. But Vivienne had obviously noticed something was different about Naomi and he had to give her some sort of explanation, if only to satisfy her enough to turn her curiosity elsewhere.

“No, she is not a mage. She was fade-touched when a rift opened nearly on top of her. Her skin cannot be penetrated.”

“I have never heard of such a thing,” Vivienne responded, eyes narrowed slightly.

Cullen shrugged. “Well there haven’t really been rifts before. But it’s true. Dorian knows more than I about the details. Perhaps you should talk to him…”

Vivienne sniffed. “That will not be necessary, I can imagine the implications of such an event on the body well enough on my own.”

“Yes, well…” Cullen said, looking past her toward the camp. “If that is all…”

“Remind me where she is from?” Vivienne asked, drawing his attention back. “I imagine she has no title, considering until recently she slept in the stables.”

Cullen tried to keep his face neutral. “The Anderfels. And no, she has no title. Her parents were farmers.”

“I see…”

Cullen got the distinct impression the mage disapproved. It irritated him. “What is it you see, Enchanter?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I am only concerned that you are sure to take adequate precautions. I understand the desire to seek companionship, but I am sure you understand, for a man in your position, how unwise it would be to find yourself… undesirably tied to this woman.”

For a moment, Cullen forgot to breathe, his thoughts a jumble. He just stared at the mage, trying to piece together the meaning behind what she had said, growing angrier as the picture grew clearer.

_A man in my position… undesirably tied… you must understand... unwise…_

There was nothing unwise about his decision to love Naomi. There was nothing he desired more than to be tied to her.

“I don’t believe I do understand,” he replied stiffly, dismissing the Enchanter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have final preparations to make…”

“There is no need to be upset, my dear. I am simply reminding you Josephine will have a far easier time finding you a _suitable_ match if you are free of illegitimate children.”

Cullen felt his mouth drop open, thoughts once more thrown into turmoil.

_A suitable match? What is she…?_

But he knew. It was those damned nobles, the Orlesians that had frequently become more common in Skyhold. He’d turned down numerous offers to have tea or share meals, entirely uninterested in the idea of marrying some twittering lady for the sole purpose of securing ties for the Inquisition. And up until then, Josephine had respected that, stood between him and the unwanted attention.

_Is Vivienne suggesting Josephine’s changed her mind… that she_ does _want to marry me out?_

But surely the Ambassador would have told him, mentioned something. And Josephine _knew_ how he felt about Naomi, had said she was happy for him…

No, this was not coming from Josephine. This was Vivienne, playing her Game…

And then the rest of what Vivienne implied hit him. _Adequate precautions… companionship… illegitimate children…_

Maker, the woman thought he was sleeping with Naomi, thought he would harm his reputation, and the Inquisition’s, by getting her pregnant. And she clearly didn’t believe Naomi was worth it.

He’d always respected Vivienne as a mage and for her views on the Circles, but she had stepped far outside her realm of influence and expertise.

“I love Naomi,” he said bluntly, “and I can’t imagine I will ever find a more suitable match than her.” He shouldered his way past the woman, but stopped after two steps. He turned toward her, standing straighter. “And though it is none of your concern, nothing would make me prouder than to be the father of her children.”

He turned away, pleased at the slight look of shock that had momentarily crossed the Enchanter’s face. But as he walked toward the camp, he felt himself blushing at what he had said.

He realized he had started to imagine spending his life with Naomi, imagined his life going forward with her by his side. But he hadn’t really considered the full implications of such a thing. That someday, after Corypheus was gone, he could have a family with her…

It was something he thought he had given up when he joined the Templars. But now… it was once more a possibility.

Of course, there was the matter of sex, and the fact that he and Naomi weren’t currently having it. Vivienne hadn’t known that, and he hadn’t seen the reason for correcting her on such an intimate subject, but he realized now how it must look to have Naomi stay in his tent every night. He wondered if she had encountered similar comments, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by staying with him.

And even though they weren’t sleeping together, he had started to sense, despite everything she had gone through, that she might be more open to such intimacy than he had thought.

He was still thinking about Vivienne, angry at what she had said, when he returned to his horse, and almost didn’t hear his name shouted over the sound of approaching hoof beats before they were nearly on top of him.

He turned to find Naomi practically jumping from Liberty’s saddle, the largest smile he had yet to see since Adamant spread across her face. She ran and threw her arms around his neck with a breathless laugh.

“Look!” she laughed into his ear as he returned her hug. “Liberty finally let me ride her! I was afraid she never would again!”

He laughed with her, squeezing her as tight as he dared in his armor. And then he felt the warm breath of the horse in his hair as the mare nuzzled close. Naomi jumped and pulled back, shooing the horse away.

“Get back Liberty…” Then she stopped and turned back, still smiling and eyes wide. “She’s never done that before…” She gasped. “Maybe that’s why she kept getting scared away! I didn’t smell right anymore, like me or the other stablehands. I smelled like you! But now she’s used to it! And you smell like _me_ now, so she likes _you_ now…” She laughed again, reaching to rub her horse’s nose.

Maker, he loved this woman, who not only cried when her heart broke, but laughed at the simple joy of riding a horse.

And this woman loved him back.

He stepped forward, reaching to draw her body flush to his, lips finding hers. He buried a hand in her hair, the other travelling down the curve of her back to ghost over the swell of her ass, pulling her hips to his. Her hands clutched at his arms and he dove into her, exploring every inch and curve of her mouth and lips with his own, intensely pleased at the small moan he heard vibrate from the back of her throat.

And he didn’t care who saw. He never wanted anyone to question how he felt about her, ever think he would choose a marriage of alliance over her again.

He only released her when he sensed her pull back slightly, though he just adjusted to pressing his lips to her cheek, the sounds of her catching her breath in his ear and the scent of her skin in his nose.

“Fuck,” she muttered, so quietly he only heard because she was so close. His grip on her ass tightened and he almost swore he felt her nudge her hips even closer against his. Heat started to slowly pool in his stomach, and Cullen knew he would need to distance himself soon, lest he find parts of himself pressing against her in ways he knew she wouldn’t yet want.

“What was…?” She took a deep breath. “What was that for?”

Cullen placed one more, quick kiss on her lips, finally distancing himself from her form, satisfaction spreading through him at the sight of her flushed face, lips red and parted as she continued to catch her breath, her breasts rising and falling with each exchange of air. He removed his hand from her hair to cup her cheek. “Because I love you,” he said, feeling himself smile. “And because you love me.”

Naomi smiled back, face growing even darker. She cleared her throat, lowering her eyes while she pulled away. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat one more time and mumbling as she reached for Liberty’s reins, “I definitely should have told you sooner then.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Naomi stood from her squat, pulling her smalls and leggings back into position, grimacing slightly at the way they clung to her legs.

_God, I wish it was acceptable to wear shorts here… or practical._

Finished relieving herself, Naomi picked up the bag containing her soap, brushes, and various other hygiene implements and wove through the trees toward the small creek she had crossed on her way deeper into the small clump of trees. Once at the water’s edge she pulled out a small bar of soap to wash her hands. She couldn’t wait to get back to Skyhold, where she could take a proper bath and wash the grime she was accumulating on the road completely from her body. She’d gotten by so far with sponge baths behind the curtain Cullen had starting hanging in the tent to give them some sort of privacy, but it wasn’t exactly enough.

Thinking of Cullen made her pause, a smile spreading across her face. Everything about the day had been perfect, from her dream, to finally finding out he loved her, to their kiss in the tent. Then Liberty had finally relented, and she’d been so excited that she’d ridden the horse as fast as she could around the outskirts of the camp until she was breathless. And then she’d gone to find Cullen to tell him, and he’d kissed her again, leaving her breathless in a different way.

Just thinking of that kiss was enough to set her sex throbbing, pulses of heat spreading through her core. Cullen had never kissed her like that before, insistent and firm, driving into her mouth with tongue and lips and teeth until she was light-headed, hand wandering low across her backside just as she had wished he would so many times before. He had been confident, unapologetic… and she hoped it was a sign he was more comfortable with kissing her, that he’d realized he wouldn’t be able to so easily make her uncomfortable with his touch.

A particularly strong pulse of pleasure rolled through her and Naomi clenched, wishing there was some way she could relieve the feeling. But one glance up through the trees revealed the Inquisition’s soldiers moving along the road just a few yards away. There was no way for her to find enough privacy to work out her arousal... just like she had had no privacy the last months of travelling. And it didn’t help riding on horseback, the constant friction and pressure between her legs just enough to keep her uncomfortably aroused, but no more.

_Maybe I could go back in the trees, just get this out of my system…_

But even as she considered the possibility another soldier broke away from the line, disappearing into the trees. It was impossible. She was lucky to have gotten the privacy she did to relieve herself.

She finished with her hands and returned the soap to its place. But before she stood to rejoin the column, she noticed the rocks scattered around the creek. She picked up a piece of the white rock, grinning at the conglomerate of shells she saw fossilized in the stone. A few more minutes of searching revealed a number of additional specimens and when Naomi returned to Liberty, her hands were full of fossils.

She largely allowed Liberty to find her own way forward while she inspected her finds more closely, glad for the distraction from her intimate feelings. She was only vaguely familiar with the types of shells and animals that would be found in similar rocks on Earth, but from what she could tell the fossils here were nearly the same, with various species of what looked like mollusks represented in the stone, from bivalves to spiral snail shells…

“What are you looking at?” Dorian’s voice asked, pulling her out of her own mind with a jump. She looked over to see Dorian had brought his own horse next to hers, and that Varric was sitting on his pony just beyond the mage.

She urged Liberty closer to Dorian’s own horse, handing him one of the rocks. “Um… I’m not sure what the word is here. I would call them fossielen van schelpen back home… ”

“Shells,” Dorian said. “They’re called shells.” He tapped them gently. “Except… they’re made of stone?”

“Right. That’s the fossiel part. They’ve been turned to stone.” She frowned. “You’ve never seen things like this before?”

Dorian shrugged, handing the fossil to Varric. “I haven’t had much reason to look at the ground.”

“Where’d you find these stone shells Freckles?” the dwarf asked.

Naomi stared. “By a creek. How do you not know about fossielen?”

Varric shrugged. “I’m from Kirkwall. Not many creeks there.”

“Yeah… but surely you’ve heard of them? Have a word for them?”

“I’ve heard of bones being found that were turned to stone,” Dorian offered. “Some sort of magic I suppose.”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s not magic.”

Dorian chuckled. “Don’t take offense Naomi, but you’re not exactly the most well-versed in what magic can do…”

She sighed. “I know that, but we had fossils like this on my world Dorian, without magic. Just because you have magic here doesn’t mean other physical processes stop working. Given enough time, and the right conditions, bones and shells turn to stone. No magic required.”

Varric and Dorian stared at her like she was crazy, but Naomi stood firm. Then Varric shrugged. “Hey, I believe you. It’s definitely not the craziest thing you’ve talked about coming from your world.”

Dorian still looked skeptical. “How much time? And how do you explain shells getting this far away from the ocean without magic?”

“Millions of years,” Naomi responded. “And the shells are here because these rocks _were_ created under an ocean. It’s just gone now.”

They were back to looking at her like she was crazy.

“Alright, I’m back to not believing you,” Varric finally said.

“It’s true!” Naomi exclaimed.

“How could you possibly know that?” Dorian asked.

Naomi resisted the urge to let out an exasperated sigh, reminding herself that it wasn’t their fault they didn’t know about things like fossilization, or have a concept of continental drift and changing coastlines. And she also realized that she couldn’t know for _certain_ that fossilization in this world couldn’t be caused by magic. But even with the presence of magic, she had to believe that the physical processes she was familiar with from her own world still applied. Magic or not, this was still a planet orbiting a star somewhere in a galaxy in the physical universe. The same basic laws _had_ to still hold true.

“I know it’s probably what happened because people before me researched and discovered that is what mostly likely explained why they found shells on the top of mountains, or hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean. They realized that rocks would be created as millions of the animals that make shells died and accumulated on the ocean floor. Then movement below the ground would push the land upward, making the oceans move away, but leaving the shells.”

“But an ocean here…”

“Look, Thedas is old,” Naomi said. “Older than you realize. The arrangement of every landmark and body of water has changed, and will continue to change. It takes thousands and thousands and millions of years, but it’s how things work. It’s how it worked on my world, and I’m certain it’s how things work here. You just don’t know these things because no one’s researched them! No one has asked these questions and tried to answer them!”

Varric chuckled. “Don’t let the Chantry mothers hear you talk like that. Only the Fade is supposed to be able to change.”

“I… what?” Naomi asked.

“It’s in the Chant of Light. Something about the Maker making the Fade first, but it changed too much. So he made the world instead, except he made the world immutable… something like that.”

Naomi finally let her sigh out and closed her eyes. Of course. Of course that’s what people thought. She knew Thedas was far behind her own world scientifically, but hadn’t really considered that the Chantry might be an obstacle in the way of scientific progress, not unlike the Catholic Church had been in her own world. And then there was the presence of magic, further hindering scientific exploration…

She’d hated ignorance in her own world, people who denied the scientific evidence for the age of the earth, or for evolution. But here… they just didn’t know.

How could they?

“So…” Dorian said. “What are some other discoveries from your world we don’t know about?”

Naomi opened her eyes and glanced toward the mage. “Will you believe me if I tell you?”

“I promise I’ll take it into consideration,” he said with a grin.

Naomi smiled back, glancing toward the sky to think. There were so many things…

“Do you know that pretty much every disease or illness is caused by very tiny creatures living in our bodies?” she asked.

“What?” Varric asked, shaking his head.

Naomi nodded. “Balancing humors is not really a thing. There are living beings that are too small to see that live in our own bodies, and some of them cause disease by attacking us. We can pick them up from the water, spread them between people by blood or saliva, by _sneezing_ … So many illnesses could be avoided if healers just washed their hands between patients!”

“That’s…” Varric started to say.

“Unbelievable,” Dorian finished.

Naomi shook her head. “You said you’d believe me!”

“I said I would consider it,” Dorian corrected her.

“Why would she lie about that Sparkler?” Varric asked. He sent her a wink. “I’ll take your word for it Freckles.”

Dorian sighed. “Of course I don’t think you’re lying Naomi. But you’ll admit these claims _do_ sound strange.”

Naomi sighed. “I know. And I know just saying that these things are true isn’t the same as having e _vidence_. That’s why… why I’ve been hesitant to really talk about these sorts of things from my world. I only know them because other people made the discoveries. It’s taken centuries to accumulate the knowledge that I learned in school. I can’t just go throwing around claims as if they are true, with no evidence to back them up. That’s not how science works. And with no evidence, I have no explanations for how I would even know these things. It could lead to… questions. Or more likely people would just laugh at me.”

“So find some evidence.”

Naomi frowned, staring at Varric. “It’s not that simple,” she finally said.

“Why not?” Dorian said excitedly. “Just do what you did in your world… what you’ve been doing trying to find ways to help Cullen. Despite what you think, people do research here. Why, we met a fellow in the Western Approach studying the feeding habits of dragons! And I’ve spent most of my life studying how time magic works. It’s not exactly a foreign concept. You just have an advantage, knowing what you’re looking for already.”

“But that’s the problem!” Naomi exclaimed. “I can’t claim to come up with these ideas, say I discovered them, because I didn’t! It… it wouldn’t be ethical! It would be plagiarism! Not to mention I can’t just come in here from another world and… and change things like that!”

“What about lyrium?” Varric asked. “I know you’ve been trying to look into that.”

Naomi sighed and rubbed her head with a hand. “That’s… that’s different. Lyrium doesn’t exist in my world. And there’s so little information as it is, anything I learn about lyrium would be new to me _and_ to Thedas…”

“I still don’t see the problem,” Dorian said. “This is your world now. By all means share what you know. Especially this washing hands business. I’ve always said southerners were sorely lacking in hygiene.”

Naomi chewed the inside of her cheek and frowned at the shells in her hands, rocking with the steady rhythm of Liberty’s steps. Spreading scientific knowledge hadn’t exactly been on the top of her list of things to do here in Thedas… Yes, she’d thought about it, but she had been more concerned with just learning the basics of how to live to really act on those thoughts. She’d been learning more about plants, but that was largely just applying the knowledge already known in new ways.

But to introduce the people of Thedas to germ theory… to the timescales of geological processes, to evolution…? Even if she went through the work to find even the most rudimentary evidence for such things, would it be right? How could she introduce something like the theory of evolution to this world? She was no genius, had never considered she would make some great discovery that fundamentally changed the scientific landscape in her world. How could she possibly justify plagiarizing Darwin, or any of the other great scientists of her world who had made the first steps forward, claiming their knowledge as her own?

But… was it right to stay silent. To let the surgeon in Skyhold continue to move from patient to patient with soiled hands, unaware of the danger she was placing them in? Could introducing the idea that elves and humans and dwarves and Qunari were all most likely descended from a single ancestor, that their similarities were more important than their differences, improve relations between the races?

She didn’t know. Even in her world there was opposition against such ideas. But she believed, ultimately, her world was a better place because of science, and that so much more could be accomplished with it. Yes, Thedas had magic that made many things possible, but without scientific discovery it could never be applied efficiently. And of course, there were the problems surrounding the fear of magic, but the things mages could potentially do to help people…

But research and discovery wasn’t just for the mages in their Circles to do. They were for everyone.

“Naomi?” Dorian asked.

She nodded slowly, looking back up at the mage. “You… might be right,” she said slowly, still hesitant. But then she glanced toward Varric and noticed Bianca strapped to his back. And not just Bianca. She noticed the cylinder attached to the top, used for sighting targets…

“Varric!” she exclaimed. “That… that tube on Bianca. You use it to look at things that are far away?”

Varric glanced over his shoulder. “The spyglass? Yeah, that’s what it does...” He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

Naomi felt herself growing excited. “Where did you get it?”

Varric grinned. “It came with Bianca. I’m afraid that’s all I can say.”

Naomi let out a frustrated breath. “Well, do other people make spyglasses?”

“I believe the Qunari make large spyglasses they use to look at planets,” Dorian offered. “They call them telescopes…”

“What about devices that look at small things?!” she asked. “Are there things like that anywhere?!”

Varric and Dorian exchanged a glance. “Not that I’m aware of,” Dorian offered.

Naomi sighed with disappointment. What she wouldn’t give for a microscope…

But if there were telescopes out there, it wouldn’t be so difficult for someone who knew what they were doing to turn the concept around…

She felt herself grinning, her lips turning up on their own. Because if someone could make a microscope, she could show what cells looked like, could possibly even see bacteria, provide evidence that could help the people here understand disease…

_I can look at lyrium! I can try to figure out how it’s hurting Cullen!_

She wasn’t a microbiologist, but the scientific method applied no matter what. And by God she would become one if it meant she could help the man she loved.

“Shit, I think we gave her an idea Sparkler,” Varric whispered loudly.

“I’m afraid we did Master Tethras.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fossielen van schelpen = fossils of shells  
> Fossiel = fossil


	62. Wycomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets NSFW at one point.

Nassella leaned against the railing and watched as the docks retreated behind the ship’s wake. She shifted on her feet and took a deep breath of the salty air, pleased to finally be leaving Val Royeaux for the Free Marches.

She wished they could have left days ago, instead of waiting around in the city for letters to be exchanged, for meetings to be arranged. At least the work hadn’t been in vain, and Josephine would be safe from any further attempts on her life.

It had been one of the more tiring weeks she could remember in a long while, even considering their time at Adamant. Fighting wasn’t easy, but she understood it, had been using weapons for nearly as long as she could remember.

Negotiating with nobles was another matter entirely.

Josephine had arrived in Val Royeaux with Cassandra right on schedule and had barely been in the city a few hours before she had whisked Nassella away to meet with the Comte claiming to have information about who was trying to kill her.

They’d gotten the information they wanted, even if it didn’t end up coming from the Comte. Instead it was an assassin they had met, sent from the House of Repose, informing them of the organization’s intent to fulfill a contract taken out with them over a hundred years before to stop Josephine’s family from establishing trade relations in Orlais.

Josephine had been remarkably calm and accepting of the development. Nassella had considered killing the man, but had instead let him go since Josephine had been with her.

Back at Vivienne’s mansion Blackwall had been distraught at the news, standing by Josephine’s side, barely taking his eyes off her. Nassella started to suspect something might be going on between the two of them, suspicions that were only solidified when Blackwall offered to be Josephine’s bodyguard of sorts while they remained in Val Royeaux.

James’ reaction still made Nassella smile, despite the circumstances. She’d watched his mouth drop open and brows pull together in a frown when everyone had been told of the meeting’s events.

“What!?” he’d exclaimed. “Assassins are after you because of… of a contract!? How is that legal?!”

“It’s quite legal,” Josephine had said. “And I quite understand the House of Repose’s need to fulfill their contractual obligations. Otherwise their reputation would be at risk.”

James had just shaken his head. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. How in the fuck can attempted murder be _legal_ because of some stupid contract?”

“I understand things were likely different in your world, James, but here such contracts carry much weight…”

“I don’t have to be from a different world to know that this is ridiculous,” James had muttered, crossing his arms. Nassella had to agree with James, but knew yelling at Josephine would accomplish nothing. And yelling certainly wouldn’t change the fact that this House of Repose would continue to threaten her ambassador and friend.

“It _is_ rather strange Josephine,” Nassella had finally interjected. “But is there anything we can do?”

And so Josephine had concocted a plan to raise the Du Paraquette’s, the family originally responsible for taking out the contract, back to nobility. But that meant days spent crafting letters to judges and sponsors, planning to meet with a Minister at a party to finalize the deal. It was the first time she had needed to utilize the training in the Game Josephine and Leliana had pounded into her head over the last year alone, and she was sure she fumbled even so. But the job had gotten done.

When they were sure Josephine would be out of danger, Nassella had finally looked to continuing their journey to the Free Marches. Josephine had been sent back to Skyhold, Blackwall and Cassandra in tow, and Nassella had found a ship to take her to Wycomb, accompanied by Solas, James, and Bull, the Qunari having arrived in Val Royeaux with the Chargers just days before.

The ship lurched, turning toward the east and her clan, now that it was some distance from the shore.

“Shit,” someone muttered from behind, and Nassella turned to find James righting himself from where he had stumbled. He took the last few steps toward the railing and gripped the wood, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his hold. Nassella noted his face looked pale as well.

“You alright James?” she asked.

The man nodded, though his eyes were closed. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

Nassella couldn’t help but grin. James never failed to be stubborn.

“Why don’t you go down below, rest a while.”

James shook his head. “That’s not…” Another lurch from the ship and James moaned, dropping his chin to his chest. “… a bad idea,” he mumbled.

Nassella reached to link an arm through his. “Come on, I’ll help you get there without falling.”

He sighed. “Thanks.”

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

James laid with an arm thrown across his eyes, wishing every turn and movement of the ship didn’t leave his stomach heaving, or a headache pounding behind his eyes. He’d never been on a ship before, and was finding it a horrible time to discover he got seasick.

He’d barely left his bunk the entire journey, since Nassella had guided him to the small room he was sharing with Bull below decks, only getting up to relieve himself, or empty his stomach. It wasn’t even worth eating, as the few times Nassella had brought him food from missed meals he promptly threw it back up. Laying still helped, kept his nausea best in check, but any deviation from horizontal brought his misery back with a vengeance. Thankfully it would only take a few days to traverse the Waking Sea and arrive in Wycomb, and James couldn’t wait to be back on solid ground. He hated the way he had been reduced to a moaning, helpless lump by a little water.

In the meantime, he had to try and keep himself occupied for hours on end while he lay. Bull preferred to stay above deck, as he barely fit inside their cabin as it was, and even though Nassella visited him a couple of times a day, she preferred the open air. James couldn’t blame them, but he wished he could enjoy the sights and smells Nassella described to him in person.

No, for the most part he was left to his own thoughts. And that brought its own problems, as James was left more time than usual to think over and remember everything that had happened over the course of the last year.

He realized there were few moments he could truly call good, that moments of joy were rare.

Mostly he found himself sleeping, and even then he could feel himself starting to doze, his body mercifully pulling him into unconsciousness, where the ship didn’t sway and his stomach wouldn’t turn in flips…

The next thing he knew a woman was leaning over him, dark hair down and swept to one side, revealing an ear tapered to a slender point. One of her hands stroked his face.

“Good morning,” she said, a small smile playing across her thin lips, purple branches spreading across her chin.

James reached to take the hand on his face with his own, gently squeezing her fingers. “Morning.”

She leaned slightly closer, green eyes shifting to look at his lips, then back up to his own eyes. “Are you feeling better?”

James swallowed, unable to look away from the way her eyes were partially hooded, pupils blown wide in the dim light. “Yes,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

Her smile broadened. “Good, because I was thinking I could help keep you occupied…”

And her lips were on his, tongue licking and probing into his mouth. He opened to her, buried a hand in her hair, shivered as her hands stroked his face, wandered lower to run across his chest…

And then she was straddling him, lips still on his and her hands continuing to work across the exposed skin of his chest. She rolled her hips, and even though their height difference meant she wasn’t near his groin, a shock of pleasure shot through him, his cock hard and straining for release…

She pulled away, shifted lower until she brushed along his exposed erection. “Do you want this?” she breathed, hands and nails working across the ridges of his stomach and lower, hips rolling, sending shots of heat through his entire body with each movement…

“Yes…” he groaned, reaching for her hips and guiding her to his cock, burying himself completely in her heat. She moaned, and he watched with increasing breaths, tension coiling and building within him, as she moved around him, eyes closed and mouth slack, small, exposed breasts bouncing slightly with each thrust of their hips…

With a start, James opened his eyes, his heart racing, groin aching and cock straining against the fabric of his breeches. He took a deep breath and covered his eyes with a hand, face flushing with heat to match the fire between his legs.

_Fuck._

He’d never dreamed about Nassella in such intimate detail, had always tried to curb his waking thoughts from such images as well. He’d told himself, time and time again, that she did not love him, would _never_ love him, or want him in that way…

Clearly some part of his mind had not gotten the message, had not let go of his attraction. But he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He w _as_ attracted to her, had been since he met her. It was not something he could turn off. And he still loved her. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it, especially considering he saw her nearly every day for months at a time.

His mind wandered back to the dream, to the way she had kissed him, run her hands across his body, taken him completely into her, moving and thrusting as she moaned…

His erection pulsed, and he stifled his own groan, unable to ignore how uncomfortably hard he was. Images from his dream kept coming to mind, only intensifying the sensations, keeping his arousal from subsiding…

And he realized his other hand had wandered lower, that his fingers were pushing under the fabric of his breeches, reaching to take his cock in hand…

He paused. He’d never made much habit of masturbating, and there was little opportunity for privacy in Thedas as it was. But he couldn’t remember when the last time had been, and he was hard and ready and alone…

But he didn’t want to think about Nassella. Except, thinking about Nassella just sent another shot of pleasure coursing through him…

He put her image out of his mind. _I won’t think of her…_

He pushed his breeches down, exposing himself to his calloused hand, and hissed when he circled his length, heart racing and heat building as he stroked his hardened flesh. Running a thumb over his exposed head and down the slit drew a sharp thrust from his hips, and as his arousal built, winding every muscle in his body tighter and tighter and tighter, he couldn’t keep the picture of Nassella’s perfect, naked body straddling him, enveloping him, riding him, from pushing back into his mind…

He came with a strangled groan, spilling himself on his stomach completely with a few lingering pumps, drawing out the shocks of his orgasm with a gasp. He released himself, the remnants of his action cooling slowly on his skin, feeling his entire body relax into stillness save the still elevated beating of his heart. After a moment he tugged at a corner of his blanket to clean himself, pulling his breeches back into place over his softened cock.

The ship swayed, turning so steeply to one side that James feared it would tip, his stomach turning dangerously with the motion. He moaned, with nausea instead of pleasure, and flipped himself to his stomach, burying his head in his arms.

And he felt his entire body flush with shame. How could he face Nassella, after what he had done, what he had pictured? This was no way to try and move on…

Except, he’d been thinking about Nassella like that for months. For God’s sake, he had a _ctually_ kissed her at one point. He would just bury this like he did everything else, remind himself that they were just friends, that he would do nothing to change that. She would never know.

And as the ship continued to sway, pulling him back down into his hole of seasick misery, he told himself he would never do anything like that while thinking of her again.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

They arrived in Wycomb on the third day.

Nassella watched as James nearly ran from the ship, stepping on the docks with a relieved slump of his shoulders, leaning against a pole with hands pressed to his temples, shoulders rising and falling with a number of deep breaths. She smiled fondly, wishing he hadn’t had to suffer so much on the journey there. But he hadn’t complained, even as he spent the entire journey in the dark of his cabin, and she was glad to have him with her. She didn’t know what they would find in the forests, but there were few people she would rather have with her more than James when it came to facing the unknown.

And then she blushed, realizing she had shifted to studying the curve of his lips, the way they were slightly parted as he caught his breath…

She looked away quickly.

_No… no._

They were intercepted before they could leave the docks, a messenger inviting them to meet with the Duke, though how the man was made aware of their arrival Nassella could not say. She wanted to refuse, but knew Josephine would be disappointed in her lack of manners. The Duke was, after all, an ally of the Inquisition, and could potentially have information about the exact location of her clan, meaning she could find them more quickly.

They followed the man through the streets of Wycomb, and even after just coming from Orlais, the looks she caught from some of the humans they passed were enough to make her uncomfortable. She was glad to have both James and Bull there, the large warriors providing her a barrier, a boost of confidence. Similar looks were thrown toward Solas, and she knew the hostility was because they were elves. For the first time, she found herself envious of Bull’s size and James’ rounded ears.

They were escorted into a large house toward the center of the city, located on a small rise within a second set of walls. And then they waited. For hours.

By the time they were finally ushered into meet the Duke, James had fallen asleep sitting against a wall, Bull appeared to have dozed off while leaning against it, and Solas had studied every painting in the hall at least twice. Nassella wished she could have relaxed like they did. Instead she had been reduced to pacing, growing more and more annoyed with every hour they were delayed…

The Duke was sitting at the end of a large room, paintings and tapestries covering the walls, heavy drapes drawn across the windows, leaving only the flickering of candles to light their way. Even with her eyesight, Nassella had a hard time making out any distinguishing features of the man. He was middle aged, slightly potbellied, with streaks of grey highlighting his beard, but were he not sitting in the ornate chair, with equally ornate clothing, she would not look twice were she to pass him in the street.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” the Duke said with a smile and a nod. “May I be the first to welcome you and your companions…,” he paused, eyes shifting to her right, where the others had followed behind.

Nassella turned her head. “Solas, a mage and ally of the Inquisition” she said, gesturing toward her friends. “The Iron Bull, leader of the Chargers Mercenary Company, and James Westerkamp of the Anderfels.”

Only James nodded in greeting after his introduction, and Nassella watched with a small flush of satisfaction as the Duke waited, shifting slightly as seconds dragged on with no further acknowledgement from the other three men. She knew the Duke was waiting for them to bow, to acknowledge his rank and station, but she also knew none of her companions had any sense of being tied to such customs, and so the Duke was forced to squirm.

Eventually the man realized he would get nothing further from them, and turned his gaze back to her. He cleared his throat, adjusting his seat once more, still smiling, though she could detect the strain settling behind the gesture. “Yes, well, as I was saying, I welcome you to Wycomb. We were most honored to hear of your visit. You must let me know if there is anything, _anything_ I can do for you.”

She wanted to say that she wasn’t visiting Wycomb, that she had come for her clan. Instead, Nassella inclined her head. “Thank you, Duke Antoine.”

The man’s expression changed, carefully arranging into a look of concern. “I only wish our meeting could have been under happier circumstances.”

Nassella held her head higher. “Yes. So you will understand if I ask we continue this meeting at a later time, after I have assisted your forces in helping my family…”

And she stopped, instantly tensing at the change that had overcome the Duke. He had started, gripping the arms of his chair tighter, face falling into a frown. She watched as he tried to neutralize the expression, but it was too late.

She didn’t need him to talk to know what he would say.

“I… assumed you knew. I sent word to your Ambassador a week ago.” He adjusted his seat, sat up straighter, and cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, the help I sent for your Dalish clan came too late to be of use. By the time my forces arrived in the area, they had been killed…”

Nassella couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She stared at the man, watching as he continued to shift in his seat, eyes constantly moving, never quite landing on her own…

_No. They can’t… can’t be gone. I’m here…_

A week. He’d said a week. If they hadn’t been held up in Val Royeaux, she could have been there. She could have saved them.

She was empty, some force outside of her pressing in, pushing everything from her body save the knowledge that they were gone. She couldn’t feel her legs, couldn’t say what her hands were doing.

She blinked to keep a tear at bay. _I can’t cry. I’m the Inquisitor…_

She was the Inquisitor. She had failed. If she couldn’t save her clan, how could she be expected to save the world?

“I understand you must be feeling the loss of your clan,” the Duke continued, eyes still shifting nervously everywhere but her face. “I hope you will accept, in addition to the gift of gold I sent with the letter, my promise of future help whenever it is necessary…”

His words pulled her from the slow spiral of her misery, feeling rushing back into every corner of her being as anger replaced the numb.

_Gold? Future help?!_

Who was this shem, to greet her with a smile when her clan, her family, lay dead in the forest? Who was he to think gold could ever begin to replace such a loss?

And who was he, to offer future help when he had utterly failed already?

Failed. Yes. _He_ had failed.

And she was the fucking Inquisitor. She wouldn’t cry in front of this man, but she would be as angry as she wanted.

“Help?” she said, voice quite, calm even as her entire body coursed with increasing rage. “Why the fuck would I ever ask for your help again?”

The Duke shifted again in his seat, a nervous habit she found infuriating. “Inquisitor, you must understand the circumstances of this request were beyond my control. I did what I could…”

“Did you?” she asked, raising her voice and taking a step forward. “Did you really do everything? You had weeks. Weeks to raise your forces and find my clan!” She narrowed her eyes, stepping forward once again. “Did you even try!?”

The man glanced toward one of the guards standing along the wall. “These bandits were well-armed, Inquisitor. It took time to raise an appropriate force, and then to search the woods for an elusive Dalish clan…”

Excuses. All he made were excuses. And she didn’t believe for a second that he had really tried. Why would he? Her clan was just a bunch of elves. Knife-ears. It didn’t matter that she, the leader of a distant Inquisition, had come from them. This human had no reason to care about what happened to elves. Humans never did…

Nassella felt a hand grab her arm. She tried to tug it away, but realized in the same instant that one of her knives was in her hand. She couldn’t even remember drawing the blade. She looked to see that it was Bull who had held her back.

He shook his head. “Not a good idea Boss,” he whispered.

She felt her nostrils flare as she let out a breath, but nodded. He released her and she turned back to the Duke to see he had risen from his seat and the guards along the wall had reached for their own weapons. She glared at the man, but put her blade away.

“I don’t want your excuses shem,” she said, standing as tall as she could. “I asked for your help and you failed. Because of that my family is gone…” She clenched her fists, stomach flipping with nausea. “I never want your fucking _help_ again.” She turned on her heels, noting that James had a hand on his sword and Solas was gripping his staff. She looked back to the Duke. “And don’t expect to receive the Inquisition’s aid should you ask for it.”

“Inquisitor…”

But she was already moving, walking the length of the room as quickly as she could, not waiting to hear what the Duke was going to say. She needed to get out of that house, out of that city. She needed to feel the open air, dirt between her toes, the sound of wind rustling through the leaves of trees…

She needed to find her clan. She needed to see for herself that they were really gone.

“Ness!” James called out when she had exited the mansion. She kept walking. “Ness!” he called again. “Wait up…”

She stopped, whirling around to face the man. And instead of being comforted by the sight of him, she felt a stab of disgust, another pang of nausea, knowing that even being from a different world he would always be more accepted than her, simply because of the shape of his ears.

“What do you want!?” she exclaimed.

James stopped his advance, and she could see his eyes were shining in the sunlight. “Ness…” he pleaded quietly.

Guilt twisted in her stomach, in addition to the disgust, and she had to look away. She could not deal with her feelings toward the man at the moment.

“We’re still going to find my clan,” she declared, moving forward again. “I need to see them.”


	63. Clan Lavellan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Say Something by A Great Big World with Christina Aguilara

James wasn’t sure how long they had hiked through the forests outside of Wycomb. All he knew was that it was growing dark, and they would have to stop their search soon.

Of course, he suspected it was more likely Nassella would keep looking through the night until she found evidence of her clan.

He wished she wouldn’t. He knew what it was like to see the broken bodies of people he loved, how the images continued to play through his mind when he least expected. He wanted Nassella to be free of that pain.

But she was already in pain. It didn’t surprise him that she hadn’t cried in front of the Duke, the man who was supposed to have helped. But it did surprise him that she had not cried since, even after they had left the city far behind. Instead, Nassella’s anger had not subsided, and she had led them off the trails and through the underbrush with an urgency that he had never seen from her.

It broke his heart, for this to come so soon after Adamant. For it to come at all. She was the very last person to deserve something like this, after everything she had done to try and bring peace. She’d often said she’d stayed with the Inquisition for her clan. Now they were gone.

It broke his heart because he had accused her once of not understanding how he felt… and now she did.

He wanted to hold her, talk to her, let her cry. But she had barely looked at him since leaving the Duke’s house. It still brought a lump to his throat, remembering the way she had turned on him when he called out, the way she had pulled away, her nose crinkling as if she had smelled something bad.

She had wanted nothing to do with him. And he knew why. He was human, a member of the race that harassed, oppressed, hunted, and killed her family. What she needed from him was distance, not his sympathy, as much as he wanted to give it.

No, it wasn’t him she would want comfort from.

They were stumbling through the dark, dappled moonlight streaming through gaps in the trees, when Nassella slowed, stopping her advance to bend down in the vegetation. Then she stood and turned her head, and James was only able to see the way she clenched her fists, making out nothing else to give away her state of mind. He glanced toward Bull, the Qunari shaking his head.

And she took off at a run, weaving and ducking through the underbrush, almost faster than James could comprehend. Within seconds she was out of sight, and the three men were left to find their own way forward.

James thought he would be prepared for the sight, having spent so long fighting and killing. He supposed it would have been worse had he not, but it was still a shock when they reached the camp.

He saw the aravals first, recognizing the sailed wagons from Nassella’s wistful descriptions. Except, these aravals were not the cheerful, crimson vehicles he expected. Instead they were charred, bare and broken frames silhouetted in the moonlight, guiding them the last few yards to the clearing.

In a way it was worse than any warzone he had seen. This Dalish clan, Nassella’s friends and family, had not been combatants, had been trying to lead a peaceful life in these woods…

Instead, they had been slaughtered.

Everything was destroyed. Everyone was dead. James stood at the edge of the clearing, seeing the slumped figures scattered across the ground, the herd of halla lying unmoving to one side, the stench of death permeating the air. He didn’t want to move closer.

And there, in the center, was Nassella, staring at a fallen body.

At their approach she looked up, face hidden in shadow.

Then she ran away again, disappearing back into the forest.

“Shit,” Bull grumbled from behind James.

James swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

They slowly wandered further in, James’ stomach flipping as he saw not only hunters, but children and the elderly among the dead…

He kept seeing his own parents among them. And David, something that hadn’t haunted him for months.

He reached the body Nassella had been looking at, a young woman with dark hair, Mtyhal’s vallaslin, face shaped like a heart, jagged slash across her throat…

He turned away, stomach clenching, forcing the contents back up his throat. He barely stumbled two steps before he was retching on the ground. He spat when he was done, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm the nausea still turning in his stomach.

A skin of water appeared in his field of view, held by a pale hand. James stood, taking the offered container from Solas. He took a drink, clearing the bile from his mouth.

“Aralia,” the elf said, and James could hear his rage. “Nassella’s sister.”

James let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “I know.”

He hadn’t known how much they would look alike.

“That fucking piece of shit!” Bull yelled, and James turned to see the Qunari looking into one of the aravals. James didn’t want to know what he saw. “That worthless Basra Vashedan! I should have let her kill him…”

James felt the same anger. He didn’t know if the Duke had really let the bandits kill her clan, but he doubted, if Nassella had been human, that this would have been allowed to happen…

“We need to find these bandits,” James said, looking toward the trees, searching in vain for any sign of where they had gone. “We need to take them down…”

“No,” Solas interrupted. James glared at him, but Solas continued. “We must bury her kin. The men who did this will have moved on long ago. We will not find them tonight.”

James wanted to argue, but Solas was right. The most important thing was to lay the clan to rest…

It took hours, but eventually graves were dug, mostly assisted by Solas’ magic, every body cleaned as best they could and carefully arranged in the fresh earth…

It was the worst thing he had ever had to do.

And then they stopped, because Nassella had not returned.

Solas stared in the direction she had disappeared. “I will look for her,” he said quietly.

James and Bull continued to sort through the camp while they waited, collecting any pieces of equipment, trinkets, and implements that Nassella might want to keep…

Solas returned alone.

“You couldn’t find her?” James asked. It concerned him, her being alone in the forests this late at night.

“I am afraid it is not a matter of finding her. Nassella is a Dalish hunter, she grew up in these forests. If she does not wish to be found, we won’t.”

“So we’ll just wait until she comes back,” Bull said, crossing his arms.

“No. I’ll go look for her,” James said, moving toward the woods.

“You’ll get lost,” Bull grumbled.

“I don’t care,” James retorted. He wasn’t going to leave her alone like this…

“I believe it would be good for James to search.”

James stopped and frowned, turning to look at Solas. “You do?”

“Yes. You are one of her closest friends,” Solas said quietly. “It is worth trying.” He looked back into the woods, and even in the dark, James could see that Solas made no effort to remove the concern and hurt from his expression.

James knew Nassella loved Solas, but it had never been so clear to him how much Solas loved her back.              

James entered the woods where Nassella had first disappeared and found a game trail to follow through the underbrush. It was faint, and after several minutes he began to consider that Bull had been right and he wouldn’t find his way back. But he continued forward, hoping that Nassella would show herself, not even bothering to call out her name. Solas was right. If she was anywhere nearby she would already know he was there.

He wasn’t sure what he would do if he found her, what he would say. He just didn’t want her to be alone.

He was completely and utterly lost, only realizing after he found himself stepping over the same log for the third time, when she appeared.

She dropped from a low hanging branch, causing James to jump and curse and reach for his sword as he turned. But instead of a wild animal as he had feared, he found Nassella, standing in the trail behind him with bare feet, hair loose and tangled, a streak of dirt crossing one of her cheeks. She stared at him with tense shoulders and gaunt eyes, and despite everything they had been through, he knew, in that moment, that she hated him. Or at least, hated what he was.

“What do you want?” she asked, in the same way she had spoken to the Duke. She might as well have kicked him in the gut.

“I want to help,” he said softly, carefully, as if he was trying to calm a wild animal.

She snarled. “Well you can’t. Nothing can.”

He really wasn’t prepared to deal with this. Makenzie had never been so hurt… “I… I know I can’t change anything. But I know you’re hurting, and if you want to talk…”

“No!” she yelled, stepping toward him. “I can’t talk to you! You’re a shem! You don’t know what it’s like to be like me…” Her voice broke, but she immediately set her jaw. “And I know you’ve never known a day of hardship in your life because of who you are! Because of what you look like!”

_She’s just angry. She doesn’t mean it…_

Of course, he knew she was right. He was white. He was American. And his family had not been targeted. As much as he hated Corypheus for how he had destroyed his family, their deaths were a fluke. Not even Corypheus could have planned that sort of destruction.

He’d never considered just how large a divide there was between them. For the first time he considered that one of the reasons she had turned him away was because he was human.

“I know,” he told her.

She let out an angry breath, that hate still clear in her gaze. “Just leave me alone James. I don’t want your help.”

He didn’t think it was possible for her to break his heart further.

But as she turned away, a part of him snapped. After everything they had been through, from their first days traveling to Val Royeaux, to falling into the Fade, he had followed her, helped her, protected her… He may be human, but he didn’t give a damn that she was an elf. To him she was just a beautiful, strong, amazing woman. A woman who he loved, who was his friend, who was hurting…

And she _knew_ he was hurting too. She couldn’t just walk away as if that didn’t matter.

“Ness,” He said firmly, reaching for her shoulder.

She hit his hand away, the clap of their skin slapping together deafening in the quiet of the forest.

For a moment they didn’t move, Nassella staring at his hand, James staring at her.

And then _she_ snapped, and James found himself standing unmoving as a woman over a foot shorter than him slammed her fists into his stomach and chest again and again and again…

He could hardly feel anything, her fists falling against his armor, the dull thud of her strikes nothing compared to the injuries and pain he had taken for her over the last few months. Strong as she was, he doubted she would ever be able to physically hurt him in any serious way.

Other types of pain were another matter. He didn’t think, considering her emotional state, that she was specifically targeting him. Remembering she had drawn a knife on the Duke earlier that day, he realized he was just a substitute, a scapegoat for her anger against the humans who had actually killed her family. Anger she couldn’t express in any other way.

But every time her fists made contact with his body just solidified in his mind, more than any reasoning on his part had done, that she would never love him. He knew she would ask for his forgiveness, would apologize when she had calmed down. But allowing them to work together, to be friends, was a far cry from allowing him into her life, into her heart, into her bed…

And she deserved to be with someone who didn’t remind her of how her family had been murdered.

She deserved someone like Solas, who loved her just as much as he did, but would never hurt her because they were different.

After a moment she slowed, chest heaving from her effort.

“Ness?” he asked quietly.

She finally looked at _him_ , as James and not as a human. Not as a shem.

She stepped back, face twisting from anger to horror as she realized what she had been doing, hands falling to her side.

“James,” she whispered, tears starting to fall from her large eyes. She took another step back. “I… I’m…” She covered her mouth and sank to her knees.

He stepped forward, falling to the ground to pull her into him, into his arms. It wasn’t how he wanted it, what he had imagined, but it was what she needed.

“It’s ok,” he said, feeling her entire body shaking as she finally broke down into sobs. He started to cry himself. “It’s ok. I’m fine.”

Except, he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

 

Nassella had never cried so hard, for so long. Not even learning of her father’s death when she was a child, or her early days in Haven when she realized she couldn’t return home, or even the way she had cried after the battle at Adamant, could compare to the utter sorrow she felt as she clung to James.

It had taken time to surface. Walking through the camp had just fueled her anger, stoked the fire of her hatred toward the Duke. Finding her sister lying dead in the center of the camp, still clutching her staff, had caused that fire and hatred to start spreading, working its way to include the bandits, nobles, the people of Wycomb, every person she had ever met in Orlais…

By the time she had found a tree and climbed into its branches, she had thought she hated everyone. In her eyes, every human she had ever met was just as guilty of murdering her family as the bandits who had wielded the swords to strike them down.

Human conflict had pulled her away from them in the first place.

James shifted slightly, adjusted his legs so he could sit more firmly on the ground, pulling her more completely into his lap. She started to cry harder.

She’d wanted to hurt him. James. Her friend and companion, who she’d fought next to for months, who had probably saved her life on more than one occasion… She had wanted to hurt him.

For a brief moment, she’d wanted him dead.

For the second time in a day she’d found herself willing to attack a human without thinking, without considering what her actions would mean. It was worrisome, to discover how quickly she now found herself resorting to violence to solve her problems. That was not the person who had left the Free Marches and her clan all those months ago.

But it was one thing to want to pull out a knife on that bloated Duke. But to want to hurt James…

She’d never been so ashamed in her life, so confused, so horrified with herself. She knew no small part of her tears were for what she had done.

She didn’t know how long she cried, but eventually her tears stopped.

And she was back to feeling empty. Her anger was gone, at least for the moment, and the sharp edge of her sorrow dulled by her tears. Everything was gone, her body a shell, and she was sure that only the strong arms of James kept her rooted to the ground.

She didn’t know what to do next, what her future looked like. Without her clan, she had no home, nothing to return to when Corypheus was gone. She had become the Inquisitor mostly for them, had agreed to stay with the Inquisition because leaving meant her clan would be in greater danger.

But that hadn’t worked. They were still dead.

How could she keep fighting for a better future if that future didn’t include them?

“I’m so sorry Ness…” James said softly, rubbing her back gently, the rumble of his voice soothing, causing a spark of… something, to stir in her chest, leaving her slightly less numb.

And then more guilt. James was one of two humans she knew who could truly claim to have absolutely nothing to do with the conflict fracturing Thedas.

“No,” she whispered. “ _I’m_ sorry. You’re… the last person I should blame…”

_The last person I should want to hurt._

“I’m still sorry,” he repeated. “And it’s alright. I understand. I’m angry too.”

She pulled away, so she could look at him. “James, I would never hurt you…” she said, praying he would understand.

He blinked and nodded. “I know.” But his voice was strained, his brows furrowed.

She fell back against him, squeezing him tightly. He had to believe her. She couldn’t bear his anger, his distrust…

She thought she had understood how James and Naomi felt losing everything. But she hadn’t, not really. This utter uncertainty, this feeling of being completely untied, loose in a strange world where everything was unfamiliar, was entirely foreign. Even her first days in Haven had not left her this lost.

But they had gotten through it.

She would too.

She would continue to fight. She would find Corypheus, the reason the world had been thrown into chaos, and destroy him. She would bring some sort of justice for her clan. And after…

After. That was exactly the problem. What came after?

Her foundation would still be gone. Her roots would still be destroyed. Even joining another Dalish clan wouldn’t be the same…

Except, she wasn’t sure she would have ever returned to her own clan permanently in the first place.

But it had always been an option.

She felt herself beginning to cry again.

Part of her had looked forward to being in these forests again, despite the circumstances, but the trees had brought her no comfort. Because these trees would never again know what it sounded like to hear the children of her clan laughing as they tried to climb their trunks, what the crimson aravals would look like as they sailed along the forest paths, what the smell of smoke and cooking meat would smell like curling through the leaves…

Clan Lavellan was gone. There was only her.

She wanted to sink into the ground, allow the loam to swallow her and bury her in grief.

But she couldn’t do that. She was the Inquisitor…

The thought of returning to Skyhold, of meeting with nobles and sending troops across the continent to stop Red Templar and Venatori plans, left her weary, left her sick.

She was so tired of the responsibility, the part she had to play.

But she had to keep doing it. She couldn’t run away. So many counted on her…

“James…” she whispered, then swallowed. “How do you do it?”

“I… don’t know what you mean…”

She leaned further into him. “How are you… dealing with losing them? How do you keep going?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, and they just sat in the quiet darkness of the trees. Nassella could feel herself growing calmer, if not happier, listening to the sound of his breathing. Somewhere in the distance an owl let out a mournful hoot.

“I’m not sure I really am,” he responded eventually, quietly. “For a long time I didn’t think about them. I just… focused on being angry and wanting to fight. But now I…” he sighed, shifting again. “I think about them all the time. I can’t stop...” His voice was full of pain.

She looked at him. His eyes were closed, brows pulled together, and she knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was seeing.

She knew she would see the same. She would never forget finding her sister…

And she remembered talking with Naomi. The other woman certainly had not forgotten. At least she had no images to accompany her grief.

But they _were_ dealing with their loss. There were moments when they were free. He just had to remember that…

“James…” she said softly, reaching for his face. She felt him tense at her touch, and she quickly dropped the hand to his shoulder.

“Don’t…” he said, barely audible.

“I…”

But she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t know why she had reached for him.

He opened his eyes. “You _will_ keep going,” he said earnestly, staring at her, into her. “Because you’re not alone. Naomi’s doing better than me because she has work, she has friends, she has Cullen…” he trailed off, but he picked up his thoughts. “It’s not the same. Nothing can replace your family, but… Just remember you’re not alone. You still have people who care about you. Naomi does, _Solas_ does...” He stopped, then murmured, “I do.”

She was crying again, because moments before she’d been hitting him, hating him, wanting to hurt him…

But James didn’t seem to care. He was still holding her, encouraging her, trying to make her feel better…

And it was working. She remembered the friends she had made, those she had met with the Inquisition. She didn’t have to be alone.

It wasn’t the same, but it was something. It would have to be enough.

She realized James didn’t think he had the same.

“You have people too,” she told him.

His expression tensed. “No, I don’t. Not like her. Not like you.”

Nassella frowned. Surely he couldn’t mean that. He must know how their companions felt about him, how _she_ felt about him…

But how did she feel? She certainly didn’t hate him.

In fact, it felt like the opposite.

She couldn’t deny that it was comforting, having him this close, that there was something _good_ about the way she fit in his lap, in his arms. He was so large, so strong, the solid presence of his body providing an anchor, something for her to cling to while everything else felt like floating away.

And it had been _him_ she had clung to, no one else. She stared into his eyes, at the earnest way he looked back, even as something guarded fell over his expression the longer they held their gaze.

She hadn’t jumped from her tree when Solas passed under it. No, she had barely moved when she saw the slow movement of her lover’s body along the shadowed trail. She hadn’t wanted him to see her so broken, so tormented.

But James… It hadn’t happened right away, but the third time he had stumbled past her tree she had finally been compelled to break from her cover, spilling herself entirely onto him.

She didn’t know why. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t how things should have happened.

“We should go back,” James said, breaking the silence. Nassella blinked, and James broke their stare. “We… were preparing to bury your clan…”

Nassella frowned, pulled instantly back to the sharp pain of her grief.

_Yes… we need to bury them._

And they couldn’t do it without her. At least, they couldn’t do it right.

She rose to her feet, realizing how warm James had been when they were separated. He scrambled from the ground, standing to his full height, and immediately started walking along the trail.

“James,” she called softly. The man stopped. “It’s this way.”

He nodded. “You should lead the way.”

She was troubled the entire way back, wondering why it was James she had turned to in her grief. It should have been Solas, but she still felt uneasy at the thought of the other man seeing her so broken, afraid he wouldn’t understand… but that was absurd. She knew the compassion Solas had within him.

_It’s because James certainly understands…_

That had to be it. She knew Solas would care, be compassionate to her grief, but only James could truly know how she felt. Some part of her, even as she was consumed by anger, must have realized that.

It had worked. James had helped her. And now she could face Solas with a clearer head, better perspective…

And Solas could help her build some sort of life beyond the Inquisition…

That thought gave her hope.

But she still wasn’t sure where that left James.

As they approached the site of the camp, Nassella began to tense, realizing she would have to see them again…

James seemed to sense her apprehension. “It… looks better,” he said quietly. “We moved everyone, tried to clean things…”

She still didn’t move. There were so many of them…

“James…” she said, “I don’t think… think I can do this…”

“We can finish the burials… if you want.”

She nodded, gratitude flooding through her. She only wished she could be strong enough to help, to look on her clan again. But she was tired of being strong.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course. Like I said, we’re here for you.”

He turned to enter the camp. “James, wait!” she called softly. He turned back. “I’d like to… see my sister… and my mother at least, if you can find her…”

He nodded. “Ok.”

She watched him until he was out of sight, made easier as the night had taken the first turn toward morning during their return, a soft warmth spreading through her body as she did.

_Love._

She frowned. That’s what it was, what she had been feeling toward James the entire night, the realization hitting her like a pulse of pressure to her chest.

Love.

She began to walk, slightly deeper into the trees. Not to run away, but just to move, distract herself from that thought. Because that was one too many emotions to deal with…

Love…

She felt the hard, round shape of fallen acorns beneath her feet and stopped. She looked up at the source of the seeds, nodded, and immediately set to collecting the fallen nuts.

She would _not_ think about James. Not like that, and definitely not right now.

Right now, she would focus on her clan. She would think about them, how _they_ made her feel, and remember them as she had left them, not as she had found them.

And she would bury them as best she could, as _Dalish_ as she could.

Which meant she had a lot of seeds to collect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basra Vashedan – Qunlat, foreigner trash


	64. Bases

_Inquisition Leaders,_

_As you know, a difference between my home and Thedas is the large technological advances researchers and inventors have made over the course of our history. Such advances, all made without the assistance of magic, have not only worked to improve the way people in my home live, but have allowed for amazing scientific discoveries about the nature of the physical world and living organisms. I believe the people of Thedas, and the Inquisition, could benefit from one such device called a ‘microscope’._

_Microscopes use lenses to magnify very small objects so they can be seen with the naked eye. These tools are invaluable when studying the largely unseen world of small living beings. While largely benign, and even beneficial, some of these creatures are responsible for causing disease and infection. Being able to see, and therefore study, such organisms could prove to be extremely beneficial when considering the health and well-being of all people in Thedas._

_While Thedas does not currently have devices that are equivalent to microscopes, I believe the appropriate technology already exists, albeit in a different form. Spyglasses and the telescopes crafted by the Qunari use essentially the same technology. If the Inquisition could acquire such a device, and the tools necessary to grind lenses, Dagna has already agreed to study the technology and alter the concept to create a microscope._

_Should she be successful, I would like to request I be allowed to use this microscope to not only study disease, but also the nature of lyrium. I have read, and heard, speculation that the substance may be alive. I believe I could use a microscope to provide evidence that could confirm or reject that hypothesis, and potentially greatly alter how Templars approach leaving the Order..._

 

Naomi stopped her reading, and looked up at Dorian, lounging in his own armchair with a book in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. “Dorian?” she asked softly, not wanting to startle him and aware of how often she had already asked him for translations, synonyms, and advice about wording over the course of the evening.

He looked over, his moustache twitching as he smirked. “Yes?” he asked, dragging the word out slightly.

Naomi grinned. “I was thinking about ending this request with a little bit about changing how Templars leave the Order, depending on what I find out about lyrium. Do you think that would be alright, or should I just end with lyrium…”

Dorian shook his head. “I would just end on the lyrium. That may be too much for these southerners to handle as it is.”

Naomi frowned. “Why would that be?”

Dorian swirled the wine left in his glass, reminding Naomi of her own unfinished glass. “Lyrium is mined by the dwarves and controlled by the Chantry. Precious little is known about it as it is, nevertheless by someone who is human a _nd_ a non-mage. To have someone who is both researching lyrium’s very nature… why, I’d say anything you find could prove to be controversial. Best to leave talk of Templars leaving the Order out of that mess for now. At least until you have your device. In fact, it might be best to leave out talk of lyrium entirely until you know your ‘microscope’ will work. I am most intrigued, and would hate to see all your hopes dashed before you are even able to try, simply for fear of the unknown.”

Naomi stared back down at her request, knowing the mage was right. It felt deceptive to exclude her intentions to use any microscope invented to study lyrium, to really see if perhaps it was a living being, and all of the implications that could come from such a discovery. But at the same time, if her request was shut down because it was deemed too risky to have someone studying such a subject, then she wouldn’t even be able to try and study other types of organisms.

She had no doubt Nassella would approve such a request, and she suspected Leliana would not object to such research either. But Josephine was a diplomat, and relations with the Chantry were tense enough as it was. She would likely want to keep the knowledge that someone was interested in making it easier for Templars to leave the Order from becoming too widespread, even if the Templars had essentially abandoned the Chantry. Naomi also realized there were the relationships with the dwarves to consider…

And Cullen… Well, she knew he was not a close-minded person, but it would likely take more than a few words on a piece of paper to convince him that studying lyrium so closely would be worthwhile. She could talk to him, but he was worried enough for her safety as it was. She was not unaware that lyrium could be dangerous, especially after talking to Dagna about what the arcanist knew of the mining process. Cullen would likely have reservations about her working with the substance… she had them as well, but she was convinced she could find a way to work with lyrium safely, and she was determined to do so, no matter what.

No, it would be better to put lyrium aside, for the time being, and prove that a microscope could be a useful device. Once that was established, it would likely be easier to demonstrate what she wanted to do with lyrium, essentially looking at a sample to see if there was evidence of cellular structure and life. It would be much more difficult to refuse such a request, granted Dagna was able to manufacture a working microscope in the first place.

Naomi set to rewriting her request, careful to write as neatly and legibly as she could, leaving out any mention of lyrium. She was not entirely satisfied with her deception, but reminded herself she wasn’t _really_ deceiving anyone. She would still need to ask if she ever wanted access to lyrium. She wouldn’t be going behind anyone’s back.

“There!” she announced when she had signed her name across the bottom. “Finished.”

“Perfect!” Dorian exclaimed back. “Now we can really drink!”

Naomi laughed and put down her work, picking up her glass to drain the contents before refilling from the bottle perched on a bookshelf. “You won’t get any objections here.”

They’d been back in Skyhold for four days, finally returning after nearly two months of travelling and fighting. Naomi hadn’t entirely appreciated how tiring the journey had been until she had spent a night in a real bed after so long. And she hadn’t realized how much she had grown to love Skyhold until, upon seeing the fortress on the horizon as they ascended the valley, her first thought was _we’re finally home._

Home. Skyhold was her home. Thedas was her home. Despite the pain and heartache of the past months, she finally seemed to be fully accepting that fact. Or perhaps it was _because_ of the pain.

Being back at Skyhold also meant returning to a normal routine, though it had been days and things still felt slightly unsettled. There had been so much work, checking all of the horses for signs of stress from the journey, replacing worn shoes, checking and repairing equipment… The work still wasn’t done.

Not everything had been good about returning to the fortress, however, as Josephine returned to Skyhold the day after the bulk of the army, finding among her stacks of correspondence the news of Nassella’s clan from the Duke of Wycomb. Naomi had cried herself to sleep that night, knowing exactly the sorrow her friend would be feeling at the news.

And it was the first time Naomi had cried herself to sleep alone in weeks, having returned to her own quarters once they were in Skyhold, and Cullen to his. They hadn’t really discussed the arrangement, both of them naturally returning to how things had been before they left for the Approach. Except, things had changed between them since they were last in the fortress, and as much as Naomi enjoyed returning to a bed, it wasn’t entirely satisfactory without Cullen there with her.

But it was one thing to share a tent and a bedroll while travelling with the army across the country, providing comfort as they struggled with the aftermath of the battle. It seemed entirely different to share a bed here, in Skyhold, where such worries were further away…

She asked how Dorian was settling back into life at Skyhold while she sipped her wine, listening with interest while he recited the list of new titles from Tevinter the library had received while they were away, mentally making a note to read some of the new arrivals when she could find the time.

But her attention was divided, and every few moments she found her mind wandering to Cullen, wondering what he was doing. She knew he was likely working, as he had been doing so nearly nonstop for the last four days, trying to catch up on the work that had fallen behind while they were away. It hadn’t helped the process that he had just come down from nearly a week of migraines and pain that had started on the last leg of their journey on the road and carried over to Skyhold. Naomi suspected some of it had to do with the change in elevation, as she had found herself plagued with headaches and pains of her own as her body readjusted to the altitude. Cullen was even more affected, and all she could do was make sure he ate and stayed hydrated, giving him tea when she could to keep the pain in check. She was grateful he had refused the tea that morning, saying his headache was finally gone, only a few aches lingering in his joints.

He’d kissed her before she could leave for the stables then, longer and deeper than he had in days, one hand gripping slightly at her backside to pull them close, the other ghosting up her waist, his thumb running just below her breast before circling around her back. She’d gripped at his neck, pressing as much of her body against his as she could, wishing that his hand had kept moving up, not around, found the swell of her breast and taken her in his palm, fingers working and kneading her flesh while his lips continued to work at manipulating her own, his armor gone so she could grip at the hard planes of his shoulders and chest with her own hands...

“I know it’s impossible that I’m boring you,” Dorian said, interrupting her thoughts with a chuckle, “so I can only imagine what thoughts could be distracting you… Thoughts of a certain strapping, blonde Templar perhaps?”

Naomi felt her face heating, noticing how her heart rate had picked up from her thoughts and the slight dampness that had grown between her legs. She shifted in her seat, pulling her legs closer to her chest, but was unable to keep a small smile from spreading across her face.

“That’s not… well…” Dorian’s smirk grew, and Naomi grasped to change the subject. “What were you saying about that book to find Corypheus’ real name…?”

Dorian laughed. “On no! You’re not getting off that easy. I believe I’ve waited quite long enough to hear some details about your intimate dealings with the Commander.”

Naomi’s blush deepened, but she could not keep her grin from continuing to grow. She weakly cursed the wine, the two glasses of alcohol working their way through her veins, leaving a pleasant tingle to her lips, the first layer of her inhibitions muted. Dorian knew perfectly well how she allowed her guard to be let down at this stage, the usual layers of reservations and carefully constructed walls around her private thoughts and emotions weakened just enough to be revealed. It was one of the reasons she enjoyed drinking, if only with people she trusted.

But it wasn’t the alcohol that reasoned she could trust Dorian.

And if she was honest with herself, part of her wanted to talk, just as she had been able to with Nassella.

“There’s not much to tell…” she said slowly, standing to refill her glass.

“Still?” Dorian asked, sitting up more in his armchair, eyebrows raised. “You’re saying that, after _all_ those days joining him in his tent, you _still_ have nothing more to share? Whatever were you two doing this entire time?”

Naomi shrugged, pouring the wine carefully. “Well… we talked a lot, mostly slept…”

Dorian snorted. “Please. I saw the way he kissed you in the camp about a week ago. I don’t believe for a moment that was the first time _that_ happened.”

Naomi’s mind flashed back to that kiss, a pulse of pleasure hitting her, a slow and steady heat that refused to subside. Unfortunately, that had been the _only_ time he had kissed her so… passionately.

Naomi let out a long sigh, settling back into her chair. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, just as Dorian seemed to be, that she didn’t have more to tell. She didn’t mind moving slowly with Cullen, but she felt ready, more and more each day, to go further, even if she wasn’t exactly sure how to initiate anything.

“No, we’ve been kissing,” she told her friend as she drank her wine. “But anything else… well, we haven’t gone past first base, so…” She trailed off, watching as a confused expression settled across Dorian’s face. With a groan she buried her forehead in her hand. _Right… Earth reference. He won’t get that…_

“I’m afraid I don’t understand that particular turn of phrase,” the mage said predictably, moustache twitching as he smirked. Naomi rubbed her head some more. Now she was stuck having to explain these particular euphemisms for sex with Dorian. She took another gulp of wine.

“Well… it’s a metaphor, based off a game from my world where a runner hits a ball with a stick and runs around four things called ‘bases’, to refer to… intimate actions.”

_God… I never thought I’d be one to have to explain this sort of thing…_

Dorian chuckled. “So ‘first base’ is kissing?”

Naomi nodded, drinking more wine and avoiding eye contact.

“I take it ‘second base’ is next, and refers to...?”

Naomi crinkled her nose, but mumbled out a reply. “Touching the… chest region… below clothes…”

Dorian snorted. “And third base?”

Naomi had the distinct impression Dorian had deduced exactly what third base was. “Hands under pants…” she said through gritted teeth.

“Fourth base…?”

Naomi growled and glared at Dorian, face aflame. “It’s a ‘home run’ and you know perfectly well what it is!”

Dorian laughed and slapped his leg. “That’s the most hilarious thing I’ve yet to hear about your world,” he said through his chuckles. Naomi continued to glare, but felt herself smiling despite his teasing. She knew Dorian was just having fun, and she had to admit that the baseball metaphors did sound funny, considering where she was.

“So… just ‘first base’ after all this time?” Dorian mused, standing to refill his glass. “I’ll admit you two have far more self-control than I expected. Maker knows I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself were I to find myself sharing a tent with the Commander. And while not exactly attracted to the female form, I can appreciate the appeal, and I am quite certain Cullen appreciates _your_ appeal…”

Naomi shifted again, slightly uncomfortable. She was still accustoming herself to knowing that Cullen found her attractive.

“Cullen was the first person I ever kissed,” she admitted as Dorian returned to his seat. “So I’m just… still getting used to everything.”

Dorian’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I… hadn’t realized. I knew Alec had perhaps altered the course of your relationship at the beginning, but I didn’t realize how much…”

Naomi tried not to let a frown flicker across her face. _He doesn’t even know the half of it..._

And he never would. There were some things no amount of alcohol would allow her to reveal.

“I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable with my line of questioning,” Dorian continued sincerely. “I just assumed you weren’t entirely inexperienced in these matters. I hadn’t realized how different your world was.”

Naomi shrugged. “It’s all right. And my world really isn’t that different from Thedas. I wasn’t exactly the norm back there either. I just… never met anyone I felt comfortable with enough there, so nothing happened. And it’s not like I _don’t_ want more…”

She watched as Dorian raised a single eyebrow, studying her quietly for a moment. She cursed herself for opening up another line of questioning, but Dorian looked away, sipping from his glass. “Well, I will stop pestering you then,” he said lightly. “I’ll just find a copy of the Randy Dowager Quarterly to satisfy my cravings… or perhaps one of Varric’s novels…” he gave an exaggerated shudder and Naomi laughed.

“Well what about you?” she asked. “No one’s caught your eye?”

“You mean someone other than your golden-haired Templar? Or your scruffy brother who is straighter than one of Sera’s arrows?”

Naomi laughed. “Yes, other than them.”

Dorian sighed. “I’m afraid it really doesn’t matter. Nothing will come of it.”

Naomi frowned. “Why not?”

“Some gaps are simply too wide to bridge,” he said simply, draining his glass.

Naomi watched him, trying to think of who he could be talking about. She knew that him being from Tevinter, and a mage, separated him from most of the people in the Inquisition, the bulk of them Ferelden, with no small number of Orlesians, even Free Marchers. But the Inquisition had a way of equalizing people, not exactly erasing differences, but making them less important as everyone strove for a larger goal. And after Adamant, and hearing of how Dorian had helped Nassella in the Fade, most people seemed more willing to largely overlook the things that made him different. Whatever their prejudices about Tevinter, Dorian didn’t seem to be confirming them.

So who could he be talking about? She occasionally saw him talking with soldiers or Leliana’s agents, but nothing stood out to her as a significant interaction. In fact, Dorian had largely been travelling away from Skyhold the last few months, with Nassella, James, Solas, and Bull…

Ah. That could be it. Bull. A Qunari spy, loyal to the Qun, a Qun that had been at war with Tevinter for centuries. She’d heard them exchanging heated remarks and snide comments about each other’s people occasionally… but perhaps those exchanges weren’t as hostile as they seemed on the surface.

She supposed it could make sense, but had no intention of pushing Dorian for more information. Still, she was less troubled about _who,_ and more concerned that Dorian didn’t think he could even try to pursue this person.

Life was far too uncertain, too likely to be cut short, to let things like cultural differences keep people apart.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” she said, catching Dorian’s eye. “I believe people can find common ground, no matter what.”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Well, no. It isn’t always. But at the end of the day, we’re all people. That’s more important than anything else.”

“That’s cheerfully optimistic,” Dorian said, slightly sarcastically even as he smiled.

“Are you afraid you’ll be rejected?”

Dorian scoffed. “No, of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem!?” Naomi exclaimed, a little louder than she normally would had she been completely sober. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since coming here it’s that you can’t take anything for granted! You can’t be afraid to let people know how you feel about them, because they can be taken away in an instant!” She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. “What if something happens and you regret keeping your feelings to yourself? I… I’ve held myself back so much because I was afraid… but I’ve tried to get past that, because I don’t want to be afraid… and I’m _not_ afraid with Cullen. That’s why… why I told him I loved him! Why I want more…” She stopped, swallowing any of the additional words she might have said, entirely unsure of what had come over her, why she had brought the conversation back to her.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that now,” Dorian said earnestly, leaning toward her.

Naomi looked away. “Well… it’s… it’s true!” she finally admitted. “I want to do more than kiss.”

 _So much more. I want to touch him, and have him touch me. I don’t want to continue being afraid of something I_ know _could be wonderful…_

“Then go do it!” Dorian said, gesturing toward the stairs. “Follow your own advice! I know I make good company, but I can’t comprehend why you’re sitting here with me if the man you love is just one tower over, sitting all alone at his desk, or even better, alone in his bed…”

For one brief moment, Naomi imagined she had never been assaulted, had never been molested. That she hadn’t been afraid to explore during her teenage years, that she’d had her first kiss at sixteen, instead of twenty-six, that Cullen wasn’t her first boyfriend, that she knew what she was doing, what to expect. She imagined that woman, who wouldn’t have shied away from kissing Cullen on the battlements that first time, who wouldn’t be nervous to initiate more body contact, who would be ready to have sex with someone she loved as much as Cullen, who could march across that bridge and confidently talk about moving their relationship further forward. In that world, she would never have had to tell Cullen what had happened, he wouldn’t be so nervous to hurt her again, probably would have let his hand move up to palm at her breasts, instead of moving to the more neutral area of her back.

But that wasn’t her. It wasn’t the world she lived in. Because she _was_ nervous and unsure and inexperienced...

But she _was_ still in love, had already come further than she could have dared to imagine just a few months ago. And though she _was_ nervous, she wasn’t afraid. She couldn’t be afraid of Cullen.

She didn’t have to be the woman who was ready to have sex, but she _could_ be a woman who was ready to encourage her boyfriend to go to second base.

The very thought sent her heart racing with anticipation.

And Dorian was right. She wasn’t following her own advice, sitting here with him.

She looked at the wine left in her glass, assessing her current stage of intoxication. Her lips still felt slightly numb, but her thoughts were clear. She stood easily, no sway to her body or rush of dizziness to her head. Swallowing the last of her wine, she pointed to her papers. “Mind if I keep those there for now?”

Dorian smiled broadly and reached to take her glass. “Of course!” Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Would it be too much to ask you tell me if you get a ‘home run’ tonight?”

Naomi snorted out a laugh, even as her entire body flushed at the thought. “Yeah, _that’s_ not going to happen. So…”

Dorian waggled an eyebrow. “You don’t know that.”

Naomi patted Dorian’s shoulder as she walked away. “No, it’s not. That’s not why I’m going over there.”

“If you say so.”

 _That’s not why I’m going over there_ , Naomi told herself as she descended the stairs. _I just… really want to kiss him…_

_And maybe see what his muscles feel like under my hands…_

_And find out if his hands on my breasts feel as good as when our bodies are pressed together…_

She passed through Solas’ empty rotunda, trying to think of what she would say… what she would _do…_

_It seems weird to just ask him to touch me like that… I guess we could kiss, and then maybe he’ll just do it…_

Except, she knew he wouldn’t, not until she asked.

_Alright. Kiss, then I’ll ask…_

_What if he doesn’t want to…?_

That thought crossed her mind just as she opened the door to the walls, a gush of wet wind immediately sweeping past her, swirling her hair around her face.

It was raining, nearly pouring, the battlements dark and slicked wet with the falling water.

_How did I not know it was raining?_

She stopped, the sight of the weather and the thought that Cullen would reject her almost enough to send her back to Dorian.

_No! I know Cullen wants more… He… he must! He said he loved me! And I’m not going to let rain stop me…_

She could see the faintest glow of a candle from the window in his tower, the thought of seeing him, of how he had kissed her that very morning, sending her feet into motion. She ran as fast as she dared across the slick stones, afraid of falling but not wanting to be completely drenched when she saw him.

With a final burst of speed she took the stairs two at a time to the tower’s door, sliding slightly as she reached the door, pushing on the handle to enter his office, thankful the door wasn’t locked. She stepped inside with a smile, expecting to see Cullen hunched over his desk. But the room was empty, water from the hole in the ceiling above running down into the empty corner of the room. Disappointed, Naomi stepped more fully into the room and closed the door behind her, noting with dissatisfaction that her loose tunic had accumulated more water than she had hoped and was clinging awkwardly to her arms and torso, the cold rain already making her shiver slightly, and her hair was slightly plastered to her face and neck. She pulled the garment over her head, leaving her in the simple vest she used to support her breasts, reminiscent of the tank tops she wore in the summer while on Earth, and cropped cotton breeches. Even with bared arms, having the wet fabric gone immediately raised her temperature. She began to shake out the damp shirt, running a hand through her hair to fluff the locks, hoping the rain would stop before she was forced to run all the way back to her room in the rain…

“Who’s there?!” Cullen’ voice called from the loft above.

Naomi looked up and heard the slight creak of the floorboards as he moved. Smiling again, she called back. “It’s me!” She moved toward the ladder, placing a foot on the bottom rung, hesitating only a second before calling out again. “Is it alright if I come up?”

“Wha--? I mean… yes, of course…”

She needed no further encouragement, and hauled herself up as quickly as she could, before she could let her nerves get the better of her.

_Alright, this is it… nothing to be nervous about… It’s just Cullen…_

_Cullen. The man I love._

_Who I could see spending the rest of my life with…_

_Cullen. Wonderful, understanding Cullen, who’s never pushed me to do something I didn’t want…_

She was so lost in those thoughts that she didn’t register what Cullen said next.

“Just give me a moment…”


	65. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this turned into a loooong chapter. Also, one of the hardest ones to write so far. I'm still not entirely sure I'm happy with everything, since there are some personal parts that I don't really think I got how I wanted, but I really need to move past this chapter (and need to stop procrastinating!).
> 
> Aaaand, this fic hit over 400 kudos! I'm blown away that 400 times a person liked this enough to leave kudos. I never expected this sort of response when I started writing this, so thank you, and thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, this is NSFW. Enjoy...

It had been a long day.

 _No_ , Cullen thought, _it’s been a long week_.

Returning to Skyhold had meant no more travelling, but in many ways the mountains of paperwork he had returned to were more tiring than any day’s worth of marching through actual mountains. Cullen felt he had hardly left his desk since they had returned, only leaving his office for any significant periods of time to join Leliana and Josephine for meetings, oversee the troops for their morning exercises, or when Naomi dragged him to the main hall for meals.

Naomi. Maker, he wished she was there. He hated how his withdrawal had interfered the last week, making it difficult to focus on kissing her, on holding her. And he hated how they no longer slept next to each other. But he couldn’t work out a way to ask her to stay with him without sounding like he was asking for more. He didn’t want to have sex with her…

Well, _that_ wasn’t true. He _did_ want to have sex… but only if and when she wanted to as much as him. Sex wasn’t why he wanted to have her in his bed.

He missed her presence, her scent, her heat... everything he had started to enjoy about sleeping had suddenly disappeared once they returned to Skyhold. Comfortable as a mattress was compared to a bedroll, he would trade the bed for the floor in a heartbeat if it meant he could find her next to him when he woke.

Cullen heard a trickle of water and looked up from where he had been staring at his desk to see a thin stream of water glinting slightly in the candlelight as it flowed down the wall. Glancing behind revealed drops of water slowly pulsing against the glass of the window. It didn’t rain often in the mountains, but when it did, it rained hard.

He welcomed the rain. Yes, there was a hole in his ceiling, but it was in the unused corner of the loft, and he found the gentle sound of rain falling on wood, and even the less gentle torrents of a downpour, soothing. Especially when trying to sleep.

He looked back down at his desk and sighed, adjusting the papers into neater piles, finished for the day. Now that his headaches and pains had subsided, he felt optimistic that he would sleep relatively well that night. Once in his loft he quickly stripped from his armor and clothes, arranging the garments carefully by his bed in such a manner that he could dress quickly should the need arise. After relieving himself, quickly washing his skin, cleaning his teeth… he crawled into bed.

Lying on his back, Cullen stared at the ceiling, realizing he had forgotten to blow out the candle across the room as the light faintly illuminated the wood spanning the roof. But he didn’t want to get back up, so instead let the flickering light calm his mind, pushing him toward sleep. The rain began to fall harder and his mind wandered to that morning, when he had last kissed Naomi. He remembered how she had opened to him, molded against him, clutched at his neck…

A shiver ran down his spine, heat pooling in his groin. The memory of her lips on his had become ingrained in his mind, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining what they would feel like pressed to his neck, nipping at his chest, trailing lower along his stomach…

And her hands leading the way, taking him between her callused fingers…

Heat seared through him, and Cullen realized he had taken his rapidly hardening cock with his own hand. Another pulse of pleasure coursed from his erection and he released himself with a groan, covering his eyes with a hand.

_No… I will not do that…_

He took deep breaths, reminding himself why he didn’t want to think about Naomi in such a way. She had been hurt too many times, been taken advantage of before. He would not become another man who took pleasure from her body, or thoughts of it, while she received none.

It took several moments, but eventually his arousal subsided, if not completely disappeared, and he tried to focus on the rain to bring him back toward sleep…

He heard one of the doors in the tower below close, immediately startled into wakefulness. He waited for the slam of a second door, assuming one of the night watch was passing through. When after a moment he heard nothing, he called out “Who’s there?!” and swung himself to sit along the edge of his bed, the floor creaking slightly at the motion.

_It’s possible a report has come from the Inquisitor…_

“It’s me!” Naomi’s cheerful voice called from below, clearly heard despite the rain.

Cullen paused, breath caught in his chest. He hadn’t expected to see her that night, knowing she was seeking the help of Dorian in constructing some sort of request, a meeting he knew would transform into sharing a bottle of wine. He couldn’t imagine why she was here.

“Is it alright if I come up?”

“What--?” he began to say, but stopped himself. After the course of his thoughts that evening, there was nothing he wanted more than to see her enter his loft… “I mean… yes, of course…” he said as he stood, remembering in the next instant that he was completely naked.

_Maker, she can’t find me like this…_

“Just give me a moment!” he tried to call out as he reached for the clothes folded by his bed, finding his breeches and pulling them on his legs with practiced ease. He had managed to tuck himself into the fabric, pulling the ties closed, securing the garment on his hips, when he heard a soft _oh…_ drift from the ladder across the room.

He looked up, finding Naomi standing at the edge of the hole where she had hauled herself up the ladder and turned to face the room, mouth slightly open, long hair swept over one shoulder. And even though the single candle threw weak light across only one side of her face, he could clearly see that her eyes were travelling over his exposed chest. He stared back, his eyes quickly leaving her face to take in the sight of the rest of her own body.

More specifically, he noticed her breasts, and the fact that they were more exposed than he had ever seen them before. She was wearing a white sleeveless vest, the type women sometimes used to bind their breasts, cut low across her chest so that he could see a hint of cleavage above the fabric. More than that, the shirt, if he could call it a shirt, clung tightly to every curve of her breasts and waist, clearly showing the beautiful, subtle shape of her body that was so often obscured beneath additional layers. The vest ended across her stomach, a small strip of skin visible before her breeches began, clinging just as tightly to her hips and legs.

It was usually the full sweep of her ass that drew his eye, and more recently his hands, but her breasts...

“I... I’m sorry,” Naomi said, his eyes snapping back to her face. She had looked away, eyes now taking in the rest of the room. She ran a hand through her damp hair, tucking strands behind an ear. “I thought you said to come up…”

“I did. I just realized after that I had undressed to sleep…” Cullen said quickly. His eyes wandered back to her breasts, and he realized he was once again growing hard at the sight of her…

_I need to get myself under control._

And then she laughed, carefully stepping around the hole in the floor to walk toward him, further into his loft and closer to his bed. “Oh… Sorry for disturbing your sleep then.” She stopped at a stool he had left in the middle of the floor, shaking out a tunic she had been holding in her hand, carefully laying it over the top as she bent slightly at the waist. “I got wet on the way over here…” she began to say.

 _Maker, don’t talk like that…_ Cullen silently pleaded.

“…I was getting cold, so I too this wet tunic off,” she finished, straightening and continuing her advance toward him.

It was reasonable, but all Cullen could think was that he wanted to warm her up, and that he wanted her to remove more clothing.

“I see…” he managed to croak out as he quickly bent to reach for his own tunic, turning away slightly to pull it over his head. He couldn’t be half-naked with her in this place, with his thoughts. She couldn’t know the effect she was having on him. An effect he couldn’t entirely explain. They had been alone before, after all.

But he had to admit there was something about having her in his loft, a space that had been entirely his own for so long…

The garment in place, he looked back to Naomi, finding that she was now standing only a couple of feet away, her eyes fixated on where he had just covered himself with his shirt. She tugged at the bottom of her vest, revealing that much more of the skin along her cleavage.

Cullen was sure she must have been able to hear the sound of his heart beating, the way it was trying to break out of his chest. The thought crossed his mind to reach for the ties holding her garment together, opening the front so he could see her entirely.

_No, no, no…_

He forced himself to look back to her face, finding her studying him with a slight grin on her face. But then she frowned slightly. His heart sank.

_Maker, she knows what I’m thinking…_

“Are you sure it’s ok that I’m here?” she asked, voice unsure.

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, wishing his mind wasn’t currently torn two ways, wishing he wasn’t so easily flustered. Every part of his being wanted her to be there, to be comfortable, had wanted her there ever since they returned to Skyhold. And he certainly didn’t want her to leave.

But he couldn’t ignore the parts of him, the parts of him that were aching and pulsing and urging him to press himself against her, guide her to the bed and show her just how much he wanted her there…

He took a deep breath. No, he could… _would_ , control himself. He loved her, and though they kissed often, he would respect that she still needed time to desire that particular type of intimacy. He tried to smile.

“Of course it’s all right,” he said, “I just… wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight.”

It was only part of why he felt so off balance.

Naomi grinned, taking a final step forward and laying a palm gently on his chest. Cullen swallowed the lump forming in his throat, parting his lips slightly as his breathing increased. She slid her hand up his chest, curling around to grip at his neck, and Cullen extended his hands on instinct to grab her hips. But he caught himself before he could draw her to his body, instead using the hold to keep her away from his arousal. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, then fell to his mouth, her chin angled up, offering her full, slightly parted lips to him…

Lips that had captured all of his attention, save the continued throbbing from his groin. He no longer questioned why she had come to find him so late.

“Well… I really wanted to kiss…” she whispered.

Cullen felt a piece of his control slip, and his lips were on hers before she could finish her thought. He felt her sink her hand into his hair, pulling him closer to her. She opened her lips with a sigh, encouraging him to push into her mouth sooner than he normally did when they kissed.

With the first swipe of his tongue he realized she tasted of wine. He pulled back. “Naomi… you’ve been drinking…” he breathed, the soft, warm brush of her lips and breathe against his only drawing him back in.

“Only three glasses,” she whispered back. “I’m fine…” She nudged closer, running her lips gently along his, hand clutching at his arm…

He moaned softly, diving deeper once again, giving into his baser desires. He focused all of his attention on the manipulation of her mouth, determined to ignore everything else he wanted to do with her body. She hadn’t seemed intoxicated when they were talking, and he was loathe to let her go…

But they would only kiss. They had kissed before. Kissing was safe. He knew she enjoyed it when they kissed.

But that strategy became much more difficult when she leaned in closer, the soft swell of her breasts brushing against his chest. His entire body shivered, and he slid his hands from her hips to her waist, clutching at her body to keep her from pressing any nearer.

Of course, that only brought his hands closer to the very parts of her he so wanted to touch...

She pushed herself forward again and another piece of his control started to slip. He desperately wanted to let their bodies come together, press everything against her…

But he couldn’t imagine she would want that, and he certainly wouldn’t while she was in this state. He pulled back from the kiss, retrieving his tongue from where it had become entwined with hers, only allowing himself the small pleasure of gently massaging her waist with his thumbs. He let her take control of the kiss, her lips pulling at his own insistently, her body still pushing against his hands with increasing pressure…

And then she pulled away, taking a few deep breaths before whispering, “Cullen… you can… you can touch… my breasts…”

He froze, his hands tightening around the curves he was already holding, shocked at how her thoughts had mirrored his.

His first instinct was to do what she said, reach for the enticing mounds of her flesh…

But he frowned. What if she’d had more to drink than he realized? She couldn’t possibly want him to do this…

He saw the disappointment cross her face when she saw his own expression.

“I don’t…” he tried to say. “I mean… I’m not sure…”

He felt her loosen her hold on his body, hurt seeping into her eyes. “Don’t you want to?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 _Of course I want to!_ Cullen wanted to exclaim. _But it doesn’t matter what_ I _want…_

He swallowed, unable to find his voice for a moment. “Yes…” He finally managed to say, unable to lie to her. “It’s just…” He let her go carefully, taking a step back. She dropped her arms to her side. “You’ve been drinking Naomi,” he explained. “I want to be sure…”

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not drunk Cullen,” she said, opening her eyes and stepping closer again, reaching for him. “I know what I’m asking for…”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. _She certainly seems sober…_

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, despite how much he wanted to. It was the very action that had hurt her so much when she was a child…

What if she was reminded of that? What if, when he touched her, all she felt was hurt and pain? What if she recoiled from his touch…?

The thought left him sick.

“Naomi… I… I don’t think…”

Her face pinched with frustration, and Cullen could see the flash of anger in her eyes before she had covered her face and turned away, continuing to move in small circles until she ran into his bed. She abruptly sat, then fell back on the mattress, hair falling in a halo around her head, hands still obscuring her features.

Cullen had gone entirely soft, no response moving through him at the sight of her actually _lying_ in his bed other than uncertainty. She was clearly unhappy, and he began to wonder if he shouldn’t have just done what she had said…

But if he hurt her…

“Ik zal nooit vrij zijn van deze…” she murmured from the bed.

_I will never be free of this…_

She sat up suddenly, glaring at him. “Why?!” she demanded. “Why won’t you do this Cullen? I know you want to wait until I ask before we do things… But now… even when I ask, and you say you want to… you won’t touch me? I just…” she shook her head, brows furrowed and lips puckering into a grimace as she fought back tears. Then she buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know what else I can do…”

Cullen felt his stomach twisting as he watched the woman he loved hiding her face from him, defeated. He’d wanted to protect her, but it was obvious his attempts had only caused her pain.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” he said, gently sitting on the bed next to her, desperate to fix whatever he had done. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

She sighed, lowering her hands and wiping her cheeks before glancing toward him. But she looked back to her lap before she spoke, voice slightly shaky. “It’s just been really hard to get enough courage to ask you to do this Cullen... and I don’t understand why you wouldn’t, if you say you want to.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. He knew she had asked, and could understand how hard it was for her to do so, but he wasn’t sure how to explain his reservations, his own fears. “Naomi, it doesn’t matter what I want. When I think of what happened, what you were put through… I can’t… I don’t ever want to do something you won’t…” he stopped, groping for the right words. Naomi had not moved and continued to stare into her lap, picking at a thumbnail. “There’s so much I… I want you to enjoy everything, but I don’t see… I’m afraid you won’t…” He ran a hand through his hair. Maker it was difficult to explain himself. “Naomi, I can’t…” he pleaded, wanting her to understand, to show some reaction to his words. “I can’t bear the thought of hurting you like those others. The chance that I could…” He rubbed his face. “It’s the worst thing I can imagine.”

She was silent for a moment, though it felt like an eternity.

“Why wouldn’t you think I’d enjoy this?” she finally asked. “I… I enjoy being with you Cullen. You aren’t going to hurt me.”

“What if you don’t? You don’t know…”

“I d _o_ know,” she interrupted. “Cullen… I was just as nervous, _more_ nervous actually, to kiss you. But we didn’t let that stop us…”

Cullen remembered. She’d certainly seemed more afraid then, but that hadn’t stopped him from doing what she asked…

And she certainly wasn’t afraid of kissing him now.

But he still hesitated.

_This is different…_

Naomi let out a long sigh and rubbed her fingers along her temples. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, then stared across the dark room. “Cullen…” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I love that you care about me, and that you… want to make sure I am all right with everything. I know not every person would do that, or want to take the time to deal with this sort of thing… But Cullen…” she said, emotion bleeding into her voice. “You can’t… I mean…” She sighed again. “Cullen… I hardly ever think about what happened when I’m with you,” she said, turning toward him, leaning toward him. “You don’t seem to understand… what that _means_ for me. I’ve gone my entire life nervous around men, wanting to be able to be _normal_ and flirt and like attention, but instead just _scared_ all of the time. But with you…” she stared at him, reaching for his hand. “The first and last time I was ever scared of you was the very first day I was here, when I woke up in that tent in Haven and you came in with the other Templars… And that was the only time, Cullen.” She tried to smile, but he could tell she was starting to cry. “All you have ever made me feel is safe, and then you were my friend, and now…” She squeezed his hand. “Cullen… I _love_ you. I didn’t… I didn’t tell you that lightly. I knew exactly what it would mean to say that. I’m not naïve… I… I think I know what you want, and you… should know I want that too…” She sniffed, wiping her cheeks once more.

Cullen couldn’t look away from Naomi, her face. The way she was leaning toward him, sincerity evident in every expression that crossed her face, in every word she spoke. He had to believe her, when she looked at him like this, that he didn’t remind her of those others, that she felt safe with him, not afraid, that she loved him…

But what did she mean, knowing what he wanted…?

“Want?”

She laughed nervously, eyes turning to the ceiling. “Umm…sex. I’m talking about sex.” She glanced back down at her lap. Cullen couldn’t move. “We… need to be able to talk about it…”

“You want…?”

“Not right _now_ ,” she said, a thumb nervously running across his hand. “I mean… someday. That… that didn’t change with what happened to me. It just made it… seem like I would never feel comfortable enough to… get there. But now…” She glanced up at him through her lashes, but she quickly cleared her throat and looked back down. “Cullen… please, you can’t… you can’t let what happened to me get in the way. I’ve never felt so sure about… about wanting to be with someone. I’m not broken. I _want_ you Cullen, and… and _everything_ that entails. So if you want that too… then please… believe me when I say I’m ready for more… Because if you don’t, I’m not sure what else I can do…”

She was definitely crying, though she tried to stem the flow by wiping at her eyes. Cullen shifted to draw her into an embrace, placing his arms around her.

But the only thing he could think about was what she had said.

Sex. She wanted to have sex. Here he had been, thinking that it would still take time before she would even want him to touch her breasts, touch her skin… and there she was, saying she wanted sex.

_Not now…_

Right. She hadn’t said she was ready yet. But it was something she wanted, eventually.

It was something she wanted with _him._

Cullen thought back over the last few moments, since she had entered his loft. He’d been so focused on himself, on suppressing his own wants and desires that he had failed to see how similar her own were to his. She was the one who had come to him, after all, wanted to kiss, asked him to touch her…

And he thought over the last few months. Since they’d first kissed, she’d not once pulled away from his touch, save to end a kiss that had gone too long.

Naomi pulled slightly away and Cullen returned his attention to her as she removed the last remnants of moisture from her face with a hand.

He had been a fool, to not trust that _she_ knew what she wanted, how she felt. _Broken_ , she had said, had felt abnormal and afraid her entire life. And he had just assumed she still felt that way…

“I’m sorry Naomi,” he murmured, “I didn’t mean to… make you feel like this.”

“It’s all right,” she said, looking up at him. “I just… want to move forward, past this entire mess and how it’s made me feel my whole life. I enjoy being with you Cullen, and, well… I want you to enjoy being with me…”

Cullen pulled her closer. “I do enjoy being with you.”

She nodded. “Then just think about _me_ when we’re together, not what happened to me. I trust you Cullen, entirely. Believe that, please.”

Cullen felt a lump form in his throat. Yes, her. He would think about _her_ and what _she_ wanted.

She sighed, settling back against him. “Well, this didn’t exactly go how I imagined…”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said again, mentally kicking himself for misreading her desires so entirely. Things certainly would be going differently if he had just done what she asked…

But after a moment, Naomi pulled away, eyes dropping to his lips. Cullen’s heart rate immediately increased. “Do you think you want to try this again?” she whispered, once again angling her lips toward his.

Cullen felt a small hint of doubt, like an annoying pebble in his shoe, still worried that whatever they were about to do would end badly. But he believed her when she said she wanted this, and pushed his doubt away, trusting that she knew what she was asking, that she knew what she wanted.

“Only if you do,” he replied.

Her kiss was answer enough.

They started slow, much slower than their earlier kiss, reassuring each other of how they felt to one another, not only in their hearts, but also in their bodies. Cullen spent his time exploring once again the planes of her back and dip of her waist before even considering venturing to new territory, reassuring himself that she was enjoying herself when she pushed into his hands, sighed at his touch. She did the same, her hands not only finding his hair and neck, but running across his chest, trailing from the small of his back to his shoulders…

“Cullen…” she whispered eventually. “Whenever you want…”

He trailed his hand up the line of her spine, feeling her smile slightly against his lips at the touch. He continued over her shoulder, resting his palm gently on the bare skin above her heart, not quite where he wanted to be. He just barely detected the faint flutter of the beat beneath his touch.

He pulled away from her lips, waiting for her eyes to flutter open. He smiled.

“I love you,” he said.

She smiled back, small and overflowing with her own love. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, that pebble of doubt falling away.

“I love you too,” she murmured back.

Cullen slowly shifted his hand lower, feeling the soft rise of her flesh beneath his palm. Skin gave way to fabric, and he kept his eyes locked with hers, ready to pull away should she show the slightest indication she was uncomfortable.

But though her breathing had increased, she never frowned or looked away, and when he had gently cupped one of her breasts entirely in his hand, she closed her eyes, the smallest hint of a smile spreading across her lips.

Relief washed through him, and Cullen glanced down and took a moment to marvel at how perfectly she fit in his hand, the heat that radiated through the cotton of her shirt, the slightest hint of the nipple he could feel pearled beneath his palm…

“Cullen…” she whispered.

He looked back up to her now half-hooded eyes. “Yes?”

“Shouldn’t you be… doing more?” she asked.

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes…”

He squeezed gently, and Naomi’s eyes opened slightly wider. He loosened his grip.

“Was that all right?”

She nodded again. “Yes…” Then she bit her lip. “Maybe we could… kiss at the same time?”

Cullen nodded back, suddenly aware of how his arousal had built once more during their kiss, the excitement growing through his entire body. He reminded himself that he still had to be careful, move slowly….

And then Naomi pulled back from his touch, shifting her body more fully onto the bed, fell back so she was lying on top of the sheets. She reached for him, pulling gently on his arm, urging him to follow…

_Be careful… move slowly…_

Two of the most difficult things he found he had ever done, as he followed her to the mattress, lips returning to hers softly at first, and then with greater urgency, her arms pulling his body close to hers. He wrapped himself around her, wishing he had kept his tunic off, so he could better feel the press of body against his.

For a moment he was lost in the softness of her lips, the sounds of her increasingly heightened breathing in the brief moments when their lips parted, the sweet scent of rain on her hair and the spicier, earthy scent of her skin, the wine on her tongue, the contrast of cool, damp night air at his back and the heat of her soft body beneath his chest. He eventually remembered his hands, and set to exploring _every_ curve of her body, from the sweep of her ass to the perfect swell of her breasts…

The entire time, he noted how she responded to his touch, to his heated kisses. How she pulled at his lips with her teeth, opened to his tongue, following when he retreated. How she pushed into his wandering hands, gripped just as tightly to his own body with hers…

And the sounds she made… gasps and small moans, pleased hums emanating deep from her throat when he massaged the flesh of her chest. All of which drove him to push further, kiss her deeper.

He couldn’t deny that she was enjoying herself as much as he was.

His entire body was on fire, his cock aching for release. He couldn’t bother himself to wonder how he would bring himself back from the edge, only interested in drawing out every ounce of feeling he could get from just her lips and clothed skin.

Naomi shifted her legs, working one between his own, hands travelling low across his back, pulling him closer, turning and encouraging his body to fully cover hers. Cullen pulled back, propped himself up on extended arms, hips elevated above hers. Naomi gripped at his hips, looking back with unfocused eyes. A pulse of pleasure shot through him at the sight of her dazed expression, knowing he had helped to put it there.

_Maker… how did I ever think she wouldn’t want this…?_

She shifted, applying pressure on her hold, encouraging him to come closer.

“Naomi…” Cullen gasped, resisting her. “I’m not sure… I’m…” He swallowed, legs starting to shake, desperate to fulfill the need for contact, for friction…

“I know,” she said, just as out of breath. “It’s ok… I want to feel you…”

Cullen gave in with a strangled groan. He returned to kissing her first, then gently lowered his lower body, straddling one of her legs, easing his clothed erection against the warm, firm plane of her thigh…

He suppressed another groan at the contact, careful to stay still to keep himself from falling over the edge. Naomi pulled her lips away, resting her forehead against his while she took deep breaths, fingers digging tightly into his hips.

“Oh God…” she whispered, hands sliding to grip at his back.

“Is this all right?” he asked, more out of habit than because of any real doubt that she didn’t want him.

“It’s way more than all right…” she said, reaching to take his lips once more.

Cullen tried to stay still, to reduce the chance he would spill himself while fully clothed, keeping the pressure of his cock against her thigh and the slight friction as she shifted beneath him from bringing him to orgasm. But he was so close, his months of abstinence leaving him desperate for release, Naomi’s body beneath him a living, breathing visual of what could be to come in the future…

She pulled back for a breath, but Cullen couldn’t bear to break any contact. He kept his lips pressed against her skin, trailing along her cheek, along her jaw, to the hot, slightly slick skin of her neck, nipping at the point of her pulse…

And Naomi moaned, loud and uninhibited, her hips jerking against him with a sudden motion, nails digging into his back. Cullen’s own hips rolled forward at the sound, entire body pulsing with pleasure at her reaction. He felt himself fall, pushed over the edge, his cock leaking slightly as he started to come. He stilled, using every bit of his self-control to pull himself back, keep himself from rutting against her until he was entirely finished…

Something that was only possible because Naomi had gone entirely still. When Cullen finally felt in control enough to look up, he found her starting wide-eyed at the ceiling, clearly surprised at her own reaction.

And then she was removing her hands from clutching his back, pushing against his chest. “We need to stop…” she said, voice strained. “We can’t…”

Cullen lifted and removed himself from her in the next instant, falling to his back next to her, heart racing and cock aching, almost painfully now that he was so close to release. He knew there would be only one way to entirely calm himself at this point…

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Naomi muttered next to him, and Cullen looked over to see her sitting up, rolling toward the edge of the bed. He sat up slightly, only aggravating his erection further.

“Naomi…” he said, urging her to turn back. “Are you…”

“All right?” she asked, staring at him with wide eyes, the dim candle just enough to reveal the way her lips were parted. She leaned back, reaching for his face. “I am _fine_ Cullen. That was…” she shook her head, taking a deep breath. “That was perfect and amazing and…” She looked at him, a smile spreading across her face. “I liked it very much…” His entire body glowed, love coursing through him, to know that she trusted _him_ to be this close to her, that she allowed him to make her smile like this…  “Which is why I think I should go…” she continued.

He felt disappointment wash through him. “I want you to stay…” he said.

She shook her head, retreating. “I need to think Cullen, and I can’t do that with you around. Besides,” she said, eyes shifting to where his cock was straining against his breeches. “Don’t you want to… take care of that?”

Cullen felt himself blush, ridiculous considering he had been pressed against her not moments before. And then shock, that she would suggest such a thing…

“I don’t need…”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess that’s up to you… I know I need to,” she mumbled, standing and looking down at him, eyes sweeping over his body. Cullen could see she was agitated, and it worried him.

“Are you sure that wasn’t too much?” he asked again, that doubt creeping back.

She nodded quickly. “I promise Cullen, it was perfect. But… I’m afraid… I won’t want to stop if I stay much longer…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, relief and surprise pushing the doubt back away. He had _certainly_ been unaware of just how far her feelings had come…

And his cock certainly reacted to the thought that part of her wanted to stay and do more…

She leaned over the bed, baring the line of her cleavage to him enticingly before placing one final kiss on his lips. “I love you,” she breathed when she pulled away.

“Don’t go,” Cullen said once more. “I miss sleeping next to you.”

Naomi smiled and laughed softly. “I do too… but not tonight.” She pulled away, quickly crossing the room to retrieve her tunic.

“The rain…” Cullen reminded her, a last effort to keep her from leaving.

“It stopped,” she replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then she was gone, descending the ladder and from his loft, leaving Cullen alone and aroused to process that had happened. The door to the tower closed.

Naomi wanted him… all of him. She’d said as much, and as he remembered her reactions to his touch, he felt that belief settling more fully into his mind, into his being. He felt foolish for thinking her desire had been removed because of her past, foolish for not listening to her, assuming he knew what she would want.

She was a grown woman, intelligent and thoughtful, and certainly not one to rush into something unless she was sure it was what she wanted. And he had seen, time and time again, the courage she had to be the one to push them forward…

He replayed every moment of her time with him, from the moment he saw her more fully than he ever had before, to her kiss and request to touch her. He thought through their conversation, certainty settling in him that he would not hurt her, not in this. He would be sure of it.

And then he thought of lying on the bed, wrapped around her, the way she responded to him and his touch, the responses she drew from him…

It was better than he had imagined, and his cock pulsed at the memory, reminding him of just how aroused he still was.

And he remembered her suggesting he would want to take care of it… that _she_ needed the same…

He groaned, quickly sitting up to slide out of his clothing, throwing the garments to the floor with no ceremony. He turned to his stomach, closing his eyes to remember the way Naomi had looked beneath him, eyes hooded and slightly out of focus, lips parted as she tried to catch her breaths, hands clutching at his back. With a gasp Cullen rolled his hips, dragging his erection across the sheets, picturing Naomi’s legs wrapped around his waist. He repeated the motion, remembering the way she had moaned when he kissed her neck, the almost involuntary snap of her hips against his…

He was back on the edge, and he brought a hand beneath him to grip his cock, barely pumping two times before he came, groaning Naomi’s name into the empty loft as he spilled himself completely on the bed, entire body tensing with the pleasure of the orgasm rolling through him.

He collapsed when he was finished, head resting on his arm. He slowly calmed, body warm and relaxed after his exertion.

And he didn’t feel guilt, only pleasure and relief, wondering why he had ever given this up…

 _For Naomi_ , he reminded himself. It was one more thing that seemed foolish now, after that night.

He fell asleep easier than he had in days, slipping into the Fade with no thoughts of demons or nightmares, only thoughts of every time Naomi had said she loved him that night pulling him to sleep.


	66. Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... life (aka school) got busy, plus I had a hard time writing this chapter. It's still a little meh, but I need to move on for my own sanity. (I sometimes have a hard time writing Ness and James, so if you have any comments about them, I would really appreciate it. Maybe getting outsider perspectives would help me. Or not, who knows!)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner.
> 
> I also want to reiterate that I'm on tumblr, where I've posted pictures of everyone from the fic, in case you were interested. long-liv-prairies is the name. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Nassella watched as the Venatori moved toward the Chargers stationed on the opposite hill, dread settling in her gut.

“Call the retreat,” she encouraged Bull.

“Don’t!” Gatt interjected, Bull’s elf acquaintance from Seheron stepping toward the large Qunari. Irritation spread through Nassella at the other man’s attempt to stop her friend. “You’d be destroying an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari. You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!”

“They’re my men,” Bull growled. Nassella set her jaw.

In her mind, there was only one choice. Even if an alliance with the Qunari could be beneficial in the Inquisition’s fight against Corypheus, Nassella had no intention of sacrificing the Chargers to meet that end. She had just left behind her family buried beneath trees in the Free Marches. She was not about to let Bull lose his.

And they _were_ Bull’s family. Even if he had only started the mercenary company under orders from his superiors, Nassella had watched Bull with his men, seen the way he took care of them and looked out for them. She had spent time with the Chargers as well. The thought of leaving them to die left her sick.

Bull had said the operation would be risky. That risk had not paid off.

Bull pulled out a horn and blew one long, mournful note. The sound echoed off the rain-slicked stones of the Storm Coast, and Nassella watched with relief as Krem, Dalish, Rocky, and all the other Chargers left their post on the hill below, disappearing into the trees.

“They’re falling back,” Bull said, and Nassella could see the way his lips turned up in a smile.

_It was the right choice…_

“All these years, Hissrad,” Gatt said, pacing across the ground, head held in his hands. “And you throw away all that you are. For what? For this? For _them_?” he asked, gesturing toward her.

Nassella tensed, angry at the elf’s constant use of the name Hissrad. Liar. “His name is Iron Bull,” she stated, glaring at Gatt.

The man glared back. “I suppose it is,” he sneered, shouldering his way past her, then past James and Solas. Nassella shook her head and turned back to the scene unfolding below, suddenly aware as the mages on the shore readied balls of fire and energy to hurl toward the ship that she had essentially condemned the crew of the ship to death…

The mages let their magic loose, light and fire streaming toward the dreadnought.

“No way they’ll get out of range. Won’t be long now,” Bull said quietly.

The Qunari ship was hit, sparks and flames falling into the sea water below. But the dreadnought was not that far off shore. They could still salvage lives.

“Bull, when the dreadnought sinks…” she started to say.

“Sinks?” Bull interrupted. He shook his head. “Qunari dreadnoughts don’t sink,” he said bitterly.

Before Nassella could ask what he meant there was an explosion from below. She jumped and watched as the dreadnought started to break apart, sinking that much faster as it burned.

“Oh,” she said.

There would be no survivors to pull from the water.

Bull let out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s go get back to my boys.”

As they trudged from the rocky cliff further into the trees, away from the burning dreadnought and Venatori corpses, Nassella tried to think if there was anything that could have been done differently. Could they have gotten better intelligence, giving them warning of the larger force present to guard the smuggling operation? Could the Chargers have held off long enough for her to reach them, saving everyone involved? Should she have just ignored the offer of an alliance in the first place, keeping Bull from being forced to choose to become Tal-Vashoth to save his men?

She couldn’t say, and the failure weighed heavily on her shoulders.

It had come too soon. Too soon after leaving her destroyed clan behind. Too soon after she had been forced to leave Stroud, her ally, behind at Adamant.

Every victory came with a cost. Even when they won, it was never complete. There were always lives lost, always failures. No matter the precautions she took, the plans she laid, the hopes she had, things went wrong.

She knew it was foolish to hope for perfection, and despite everything she could see most events going in the Inquisition’s favor. But every failure was hers to bear, constant reminders of how much more she _could_ fail.

The events of the day had done nothing to distract her from her most recent failure to find the bandits who had killed her family. They had tracked the men as far as Hercinia, south of Wycomb along the coast, where they had disappeared without a trace. Nassella supposed she may have been able to find them eventually, but it would take time. Time Solas had quietly reminded her she didn’t have during a whispered conversation late at night in their tent.

It had angered her at first, the reminder of her duty. She had never asked to be made Inquisitor, never sought leadership. She had just wanted to bring peace, recognizing that with the Anchor she was in a position to do just that. But it was largely for her family, a family she now had every right to avenge.

But she _had_ accepted leadership, and that meant her time was no longer hers, her grief couldn’t push her from the larger path, the larger goal. Leadership for her meant serving, never sending others to face the threats across Thedas while she stayed safely behind walls. Or while she chased her own desire for revenge.

No matter how much she wanted to leave, to find the people who had killed her family until every last one was dead, something nearly as strong pulled her in the other direction, to return to the Inquisition, to the work still left. The thought of leaving Solas and James and Bull and everyone back at Skyhold to try and stop Corypheus alone kept her from truly considering that she would leave.

Receiving word from Skyhold of the Qunari’s offer at an alliance had finally pushed her to depart the Free Marches and begin their return, stopping on the Storm Coast for over a week as they waited for the Chargers and Qunari to arrive. Time Nassella had spent with her companions further securing the region, finding red Templars using an abandoned dwarven port to gain a foothold in Ferelden, finally giving her an opportunity to lash out, to strike against Corypheus, the monster who had brought this chaos to the world, who she ultimately blamed for her family’s deaths.

With James and Bull leading the way the fighting had been bloody. The warriors were not ones to kill with the subtlety of poisoned blades and well-placed arrows, nor with the finesse of warping the Veil and magic from the Fade. No, they broke and crushed and destroyed… and Nassella had enjoyed it.

She was definitely not the same woman who had left her clan over a year before. Perhaps it was just as well, considering she would never return. Perhaps it would make things easier…

So far, that hadn’t been the case.

Still, removing the red Templars had given her the sense they were doing _good,_ that things could once again go _well._

But that sense was gone, walking through the rain that never seemed to cease along the coast. The Chargers were alive, but Bull was also Tal-Vashoth.

Like her, he could never return to his people.

_It was the right choice._

It’s what her life had become. A series of choices. Choices that shaped not only her life, but the lives of those around her. All she could do was pray she made the right ones, and accept the consequences, whatever they were.

 

\----- 

 

Nassella stepped out of her tent to join the others, grateful that the rain had taken a break, giving them a respite from the constant moisture and a chance to enjoy a dry meal around the fire. She approached the circle where everyone had gathered, the Chargers, Bull, James…

Well, not everyone was there, Nassella remembered as she collected a serving of food. She had left Solas in the tent, where he had entered the Fade some time before to dream. Part of her wished he would join them around the fire, spend time talking and joking with the Chargers. But he loved the Fade. She couldn’t ask him to leave it.

She turned toward the others, her eyes immediately landing on James. She watched as he inspected the blade of his sword with a practiced eye, running a whetstone along the edge. A warmth spread through her chest, a feeling that seemed to accompany every glance toward the man, every interaction she had with him.

Love. Once she realized what the feeling was, it was difficult to ignore.

She _had_ tried to ignore it. She shouldn’t feel that way.

But it was real.

She wasn’t sure if she looked at James more often, or if realizing how she felt just made her more aware when she did. But now every time the man crossed her field of view she felt a small skip in the beat of her heart, an urge to approach, regardless of what she was doing, and help him with his task, start a conversation, or just bring their bodies closer together.

Just as she felt now, the desire to sit next to him while she ate her meal. She knew she shouldn’t, that it would be better to turn away and find another seat. But he was her friend, and the patch of ground next to him was empty…

She crossed the few feet to the spot and sat cross-legged in a single motion. James stalled his work and glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” he said.

Hey. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“How’s the food?” she asked with a smile.

James shrugged. “Aside from the carrots, it was fine.”

Ah. She knew he didn’t like carrots, his nose always wrinkling slightly before eating any chunks put in his food. It was a holdover from growing up in a place where food was never scarce, where he could afford to be choosy.

It was one of the habits she had noticed, now that she paid greater attention. Like how she had realized he took almost obsessive care of his weapons and armor.

“I’m not sure it’s possible to get that blade any sharper,” she commented before taking a bite of her food. She, for one, loved carrots.

James stalled again, looking over the weapon. “I… guess that’s true. I just want to make sure…”

Nassella smiled again. He was always so careful, tried so hard to make no mistakes…

But he put the sword away. Instead he pulled over pieces of his armor and set to work removing the blood and gore from the metal. Nassella returned to her food, but she couldn’t help but glance at James between every bite.

She looked at him so much more now, noticed more. Like the way his nearly black hair glinted in sunlight, revealing the rich, vibrant tones of russet and chestnut hidden in the dimmer light around the fire. There were also the few small freckles that bridged his nose when he spent time in the sun, or the fact that his eyes were a deeper, darker shade of blue than his sister’s, his the sky before the last light faded after sunset, hers the sky at midday. Though the burst of fade-touched green was the same.

And he always stuck his tongue out slightly between his full lips when he concentrated, as he was now. Lips Nassella remembered had once been pressed against hers…

She blinked, realizing she was staring. With a frown she looked away, back to her food. It was certainly not appropriate for her to be thinking about James like that. Not now, while she was trying to eat and he cared for his equipment.

Or ever, as she turned her head slightly, toward the tent were Solas lay in sleep. A knot of guilt settled in her stomach, knowing the feelings she had for another man. It wasn’t as if her feelings for Solas had changed. She still wanted to be near him, and talk to him, and be _with him._

But she wondered, wondered what things would be like if she hadn’t turned James away after he had kissed her, if she had accepted his advance…

But it was a ridiculous thing to consider. James had kissed her because she looked like another woman, the woman he actually loved. And afterwards… he’d moved on, found some other short, dark-haired woman to pursue, never again suggesting he was interested in _her._

And she had not loved him then. She couldn’t even be sure if this love she felt now was real, or if it was because of the way he had held her and talked to her after finding her clan…

They had been so close then. It would have been nothing to lean in, kiss him again. She wondered if James would hesitate to take her to bed as Solas did. Would James refuse any form of intimacy because of what they _might_ end up doing…?

Nassella firmly turned her mind in another direction. It was entirely juvenile to base a choice in partner solely on physical considerations, on sex. She wasn’t with Solas for sex. She wanted to be with him because the other elf was interesting, fascinating. He knew so much, had seen and experienced more than she could imagine. She knew she would never run out of things to ask him, of things to talk about…

_James’ life is just as fascinating and different…_

_No! It’s not the same!_

She had been through so much with Solas, fighting all of these months. They protected each other, supported each other…

_James does that. He’s been injured more times than I can count for me…_

_Creators! It is_ not _the same._

Because Solas loved her.

And there is was. The crucial difference. Solas loved her, while James had only grown distant since they had found her clan.

He was doing it even now, not talking, focusing on his work. And though she often sat next to him, he had stopped doing the same, and he had insisted she let him suffer alone on their return trip across the sea though she had wanted to do better at keeping him company. It scared her, to think he was pulling away, reverting to the attitude he had first held toward her, afraid that her outburst against him had somehow changed their friendship and she had ruined something she cherished in her anger. She didn’t want to lose him.

_He’s not mine to lose._

No matter her feelings, this was one choice she did not have to make. Because there was no choice. She might love two men, but only one loved her in return. Solas, the man who had first caught her attention, who had been with her from the start. No passing attraction for another man, and she had to believe it was passing, could change that.

“So James, I saw you got hit pretty hard with a bolt of lightning earlier. How’re you feeling?” Nassella looked over as Bull sat on James’ other side, his own axe and whetstone in hand.

James snorted. “Bull, you’ve pushed bones back into my arm before, and that healed fine. You think a bolt of lightning would be worse?”

Bull shrugged. “Hey, I haven’t seen you hit by magic before. Didn’t know if your fade-healing would still work.”

“It does, don’t worry.”

Bull rolled one of his shoulders. “Well I’m still a bit sore. Those bastards were a bit stronger than I expected.”

Nassella saw James smirk. “Are you _complaining?_ ”

The larger warrior chuckled, running the stone along the edge of the blade. “Oh no. Healing like that would just take the fun out of fighting. You don’t even get scars for your trouble.”

James lifted an arm to inspect his exposed forearm. It was strange, considering how often James was injured, that his skin was entirely unblemished.

An image of his nearly naked body, dripping with water from the oasis, flashed through Nassella’s mind…

_No, no, no…_

“I know,” James said, oblivious to the course her mind had taken, “even Naomi has more scars than I do from being here.” Then he shrugged. “But I’m alive because of healing like this so… I’ll take that over scars.”

“That’s true,” Bull said. “Still, nothing like a few scars to get you laid.”

Nassella coughed, choking slightly on a bite of meat, her ears starting to burn. She certainly didn’t think James needed scars to be attractive in _that_ way.

_Creators…_

She glanced toward James. The man was staring wide-eyed at the armor in his hands. “What?” he asked, voice strained. She glanced toward Bull, the Qunari grinning down at James. Then Bull’s eye shifted to her, and she swore he winked. Or he may have just blinked.

“Scars start conversations,” he explained, shifting his gaze back to James. “Some serving girl asks about a scar on your face, you tell her you got it fighting off five red Templars on your own. She’s impressed, and the next thing you know, she’s wondering if you’ll have the same stamina in bed… Isn’t that right Boss?”

Nassella’s face was flaming. _Well, he_ would _have stamina…_

_Fenedhis!_

James had gone very still, and she could only imagine what he was thinking, though she suspected his face was a darker shade of red than hers. Nassella’s mind was scrambled, and she struggled to answer Bull.

James cleared his throat, saving her the trouble. “I don’t think…”

Bull slapped James on the back. “I’ll show you when we get back to Skyhold,” he said, grin plastered across his face.

It bothered her, to think of James going after some other woman…

_No. It’s not like we’re together… he doesn’t love me…_

He could be with anyone he wanted.

“Stop teasing him Bull,” she said with a forced smile, because James had gone quiet, clearly uncomfortable as he stared at his armor. But then James nodded, and turned toward Bull.

“Sure.”

Bull’s eyebrow raised. Nassella’s did the same, though her chest tightened as well.

“Really?” Bull asked.

James nodded. “You’ll buy the drinks, right?”

Bull laughed and slapped James on the back again. “Sure! I’m buying all the Charger’s drinks when we get back. You can join us.”

“All right then,” James said. He stood, collected his things, and walked away.

Not once did he look toward her.

Nassella stuffed another bite into her mouth, angry at her reaction, at the… jealousy twisting her gut. James was her friend, nothing more, and as his friend, she should want him to find companionship, to be happy.

And she did want him to be happy. He _deserved_ to be happy.

“You all right there Boss?” Bull asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She frowned, meeting his one-eyed gaze. “Yes, of course.”

Bull raised his eyebrow again, and she knew he didn’t believe her.

As he shouldn’t. She hadn’t tried very hard to hide her lie.

But she was saved from further scrutiny when a screech echoed from the sky above. Everyone around the fire tensed, listening to the sound of large, flapping wings passing faintly overhead. The flapping passed, though another screech drifted through the night, further away.

“Okay, that’s badass,” Bull said.

Nassella wouldn’t exactly call it that, but it did remind her of the dragon at Adamant, and how they would need to kill it…

“We should find her,” she said.

Bull’s laughed, long and hard. “Yes!”

It would be another welcome distraction.


	67. Uncommon Ancestry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a request for the Dutch speakers who read this! I was wondering if there was a term of endearment I could use for Naomi to call Cullen? Something that is like 'dear' or 'darling' in English? More on the sweet end of the spectrum. I've tried looking on Google, but don't feel confident I've really gotten good answers there.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!

Naomi flipped the page in the book she was reading, taking a moment to admire the sketch of elfroot scrawled across one of the pages. Familiar with the plant, she turned her gaze to the written description on the opposite page, reminding herself of everything the plant was useful for.

_The juice from the roots numbs pain, speeds up healing… probably some sort of anti-bacterial properties… or maybe it helps boost the immune system…_

_Eating it can also help with indigestion…_

She winced and shifted slightly, wondering if she shouldn’t try to make a tea of elfroot to help ease the cramps currently twisting her stomach. The worst was nearly over, but it would be several days before she would feel entirely back to normal. Still, she supposed she should be grateful that the symptoms associated with her cycle had always been mild.

But they were running low on elfroot, and she didn’t want to waste any of the useful herb for a little pain relief.

_Eflroot. Also one of the main ingredients in Cullen’s potion…_

She turned to the next page, a description of Royal elfroot. It seemed to Naomi that most of the properties were the same as the more common variety, though stronger. As far as she knew, however, no one had found any recently.

She admired the drawing, noting the same general shape but different coloring of the rare herb, the sounds of Harrit working a piece of armor echoing through the chamber.

She started to hum while she read.

_Don’t stop, believin’! Hold on to that feeeeeling. Streetlight, peoooople…_

_It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do…_

She turned to the next entry. Spindleweed.

_Also good for healing… especially illnesses. It’s probably anti-bacterial as well… maybe even anti-viral. Also in the potion I give Cullen… but maybe I could increase the amount…_

She made an entry in her notes, and because she had never seen the plant in nature, turned to studying the depiction, reminding herself of the distinguishing characteristics.

The door to the undercroft opened and closed. Naomi glanced toward the door, but no one had entered.

_Dagna must have stepped out…_

“Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me? When will my reflection show…” she sang underneath her breath, bolder as Harrit’s work masked her voice.

“From the day we arrive on the planet, and blinking step into the sun. There is more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done…”

“For one so small, you seem so strong. My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm…”

Several pages, and several lines of songs, later, she turned to rashvine nettle. After reading the symptoms, and uses, she frowned.

_That’s the third poisonous plant I’ve read about used in lyrium potions… those are ingested… Why would they do that?_

_For that matter… why are the lyrium potions mages take different than the Templars?_

She made another entry, noting every plant used in lyrium potions and whether they were generally harmful or beneficial. Then she stared at the list, trying to discern a pattern.

_It’s about even… though most of the potion is elfroot…_

_So only small amounts of the rashvine nettle, and deathroot, and mushroom…_

_Why?_

She scrawled just that across the bottom of the page. One more question added to her list.

Now she just needed hypotheses and ways to test those hypotheses. But good hypotheses were generally harder to develop, especially with the ringing of metal striking metal in her ears. But she realized these hypotheses weren’t necessarily something she needed to come up with from scratch. There were a number of herbalists far more experienced and knowledgeable than her when it came to this sort of thing. They likely could tell her the reasons for including these apparently harmful substances in these potions.

Making a mental note to seek out Adan later, Naomi returned to perusing the book.

“I said I want to see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather. Tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then? Duh, duh, duh…”

“If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down in a bed of roses. Send me in the river, at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song…”

Naomi trailed off the song, frowning slightly. She couldn’t remember what came next.

“Meanwhile back at Mama’s, the… porch light’s on, come away if you wanna…. Supper’s on the stove, beer’s in the fridge… sun.. down… sinking…”

She had to stop. Not only could she not remember the words, or the tune for that matter, but singing about what was happening back at her mother’s house…

But she wanted to sing. So she turned to songs she was more confident she could remember, songs she had been singing her entire life.

Christmas carols.

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come, let Earth receive her King…!”

“Joy to the world…”

_No. The second verse is joy to the earth…_

Naomi felt a strange twist in her gut. She was forgetting the songs. Songs that had always been part of her life. Her favorite songs to sing.

Soon, they might be gone forever.

Urgently, Naomi reached for clean paper, dipping her quill in the pot of ink. Then she took a deep breath, and set to work.

Every lyric, every verse, every song she wrote, as much as she could remember, mumbling beneath her breath as she did.

“O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant. O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem…”

“Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o’r the plains. And the mountains in reply, echoing their joyous strains…”

“O come, o come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel. That mourns in lonely exile here, until the son of God appear. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel, shall come to thee o Israel…”

Naomi’s hand began to cramp, but she just shook it out and kept writing. The door to the undercroft creaked open and closed once again, but Naomi didn’t look up. She needed to write, record every hymn she could remember while her memory allowed, before she lost this piece of her old life too…

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child. Holy infant so tender and mild…”

“Naomi?”

She jumped, quill skittering across the page, leaving blotches of black ink across the words she had already written. It hadn’t occurred to her that Cullen was the one who had entered the undercroft.

“Shit…”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said as she turned to face him. “I didn’t mean to startle you…”

She smiled, heart rate calming slightly at the sight of his worried face. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just caught up in this…” she said, looking back down at the page. The stains of ink really weren’t that bad, and she knew she could salvage most of the page.

Whether she could salvage everything she felt she was losing, she didn’t know.

She felt Cullen’s hand settle gently on her shoulder. “What is it you’re working on?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. What _was_ she doing? A few words on a page could never replace everything she missed about losing Christmas. It wasn’t the same as celebrating with her family, the snow and Christmas lights, picking out perfect gifts for her parents and siblings, baking cookies, singing these very hymns every Sunday during December…

“Silent night… Holy? Night. All is calm, all is bright. Round you… vir… virgin? Mother and child… What is this Naomi?” Cullen asked, clearly confused as he read over her shoulder. She also knew he wouldn’t know what virgin meant, at least in her language.

She opened her eyes. “It’s a Christmas song from home.” She spread out all the pages she had filled with lyrics. “They all are.”

Cullen reached for one of the filled sheets, silently reading for a moment. He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you feeling all right?”

She shrugged. “Yes… I was just… afraid I would forget them…”

Cullen put the paper down. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Naomi smiled again and stood to wrap her arms around his neck in an embrace. “Just don’t laugh if I ever get the urge to sing,” she murmured. It wouldn’t do to dwell too long on losing songs, or even Christmas. It was far from the worst thing she had lost.

“Of course not,” he said. It made her happy, remembering the good things she still had. “I’ll listen now if you want.”

Yes, Cullen made her very happy.

She laughed and pulled back so she could look at his face. “Maybe some other time.”

Cullen’s own eyes studied hers, a small grin tugging up the corner of his mouth. Then he dropped his eyes to her lips. “You are so beautiful when you smile,” he murmured, reaching for the line of her jaw with his hand.

Naomi blushed, as part of her still adjusted to Cullen’s attraction. But she didn’t hesitate to lean forward and kiss him.

But it was a small kiss, aware as she was of Harrit’s continued presence in the undercroft, and the knowledge that anyone could walk in at any moment. Cullen let her go and she turned to tidy up her desk with a smile still on her face.

She had to admit that she felt giddy every time they kissed like that. No tongue, no wandering hands… just the quick joining of lips, a way to reinforce that they loved each other, no matter what they were doing.

Of course, she _certainly_ enjoyed the other ways they had been kissing for the past two weeks, wrapped around each other in Cullen’s bed, or hers, hands frequently pushing below tunics, and a few nights before, her breastband…

They always pulled away before they got too carried away, when she was gasping and aching, Cullen nearly trembling as he held back, the evidence of his own arousal pressed against her through layers of clothing. She found it more difficult every night to stop, to leave, but she knew the consequences, knew what could happen if she stayed.

Part of her wondered if it was too soon, if she was moving too fast. It hadn’t even been three months since she and Cullen had first kissed, since _she_ had first kissed _anyone_. Surely these things should take longer.

But she wasn’t a child. She was twenty-seven, in love… She knew what she wanted. She’d long before given up the belief she should have to wait for marriage before having sex. However, it would still take the right person for her…

But Cullen _was_ the right person. She felt that to her core. It was why she’d scoured every book she could about plants for any information about contraceptives, about any herbs that could prevent pregnancy. There were a few, recipes for teas… but she wasn’t sure how effective they really were, and she didn’t know who to ask for better firsthand knowledge.

Well, she would ask Nassella, when she got back. But Naomi wasn’t sure when that would be. So instead they parted every night, where she would return to her room, slip her hand beneath her smalls, and bring herself to the edge with the memory of Cullen’s hands on her skin, his lips on hers, imagined his cock not pressed against her leg through cloth, but buried inside of her…

It was frustrating, to be so close to something she wanted, but not able to have it. It wouldn’t be a problem on her world. No, on her world they would have everything they needed to avoid having children too soon…

_On my world…_

Naomi stalled, hands clutching at her book of notes.

_On my world… we’re not from the same world…_

Her throat started to close, tears prickled her eyes, as her mind ran through the implications to the only logical conclusion.

_It doesn’t matter if we have sex without protection… we’ll never be able to have children._

Naomi stared at the desk, blood pounding in her ears. On the surface, she and Cullen looked the same, both passed as human. But at a fundamental level, a _genetic_ level… that was most certainly not the case.

Cullen would be more similar to Liberty, to the plants she was studying, than herself. It was already almost impossible to believe that they looked alike, but the chances they shared the same number of chromosomes, the same genes in the same locations, the same genetic bases… it was surely impossible.

She felt so stupid, that it took her this long to realize it. It was one of the most fundamental laws of biology, descent from common ancestors. Species were defined by their relatedness, their ability to produce offspring.

She and Cullen shared nothing, had evolved on different planets, in potentially different universes. It was a wonder she and James could even survive in Thedas, get the proper nutrition and elemental needs. Obviously the atmosphere of Thedas was essentially the same as Earth, the food they ate contained the proper proteins and carbohydrates and lipids and everything else they needed. Unlikely as it was, she could more easily believe that these basic molecules would be the same between different planets. But evolution was messy, and had often found multiple ways to produce the same adaptations, the same results. But the genes making traits that _looked_ the same were _not_ the same.

Just like she and Cullen were not the same.

She had been so worried that she would never have children because she would never even be able to _find_ someone she could love enough to take the steps to make it happen. Would never be able to trust someone enough to tell him where she was from. And then there was the matter of not wanting children _now_ , when she still felt uncertain about the future.

It had never occurred to her that none of that mattered. That she could never have children in this new world anyway, even when she was ready.

“Is everything all right Naomi?”

She blinked, drawn from her spiraling thoughts. But knowing Cullen was standing right next to her just brought a fresh wave of tears to the surface, threatening to overflow. She kept blinking, determined not to cry in front of Cullen, not now, after things had been going so well…

“Yes,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. “I’m fine…”

“Naomi…” he said, voice low. His hand found her arm.

“I was just… thinking about everything I want to do,” she said, lifting the book up slightly.

“And what is that?”

She took a deep breath, pushing down the emotions twisting her stomach, squeezing her chest, forced herself to think about something else. “Research. Experiments. I want to show the healers what causes disease, give them a better idea of how to treat people. If you approve my request for the telescope, and if Dagna can make a microscope, it will help. But I think there are other ways to help, to show some of the same things.”

Cullen leaned in and kissed her cheek. She almost lost control of her tears, careful to keep her face turned away from his. “Is that what this is for?” he asked, pointing to the rectangular metal box on one corner of the desk. She picked up the device, smiling despite herself, remembering working with Dagna to bring the contraption into reality. The dwarf had jumped on the chance to help, producing a model of the trap in a few hours with only a vague description to work on.

“Yes,” Naomi said, pushing down on the flap on one end, clicking the door into place along the floor, leaving one end of the box open.

“May I ask what it is?”

“It’s a live trap,” she said, reaching for a small bag of sand she’d been using to test the device. Carefully, she tossed the bag into the trap, the weight of the sand triggering the release, causing the door to flip closed with a snap. She glanced toward Cullen, seeing him frown slightly. “To catch rats,” she explained, opening the trap to retrieve the bag. “Some of the experiments I have planned require animal models.”

“Rats?” he asked.

“Well… I had initially thought about using nugs, but then I remembered that Leliana loves nugs, and I didn’t know how she would react. But nobody loves rats… I figured nobody would care if I caught a few.”

Cullen chuckled. “That’s certainly true.” He grabbed the device to inspect it. “I’ll admit that it’s certainly strange to be keeping rats alive, however.”

“Well… I need to have something to use in experiments. We would use rats, or mice, on my world…”

_My world… we’re not from the same world…_

_I’ll never have children._

Cullen put the trap down, then smiled at her. “I hope… whatever you are planning is successful,” he said. He reached for her jaw again. “And I’m glad you have found something from your home you can do here.”

She tried to smile, but was only partly successful. But Cullen didn’t seem to notice as he leaned in to kiss her again.

This kiss was different than the first, as he kept contact, snaking his other hand around her waist and to her backside, pulling them closer together. He was slightly more forceful, and by the way he massaged her flesh, Naomi knew his mind had already wandered ahead, to when they could be alone. But she couldn’t relax, her body, and mind, in uncomfortable turmoil.

She pulled back and cupped his cheek, noting the heat still in his gaze. “Cullen… can we… not kiss so much tonight? I’m not… feeling that well.”

His expression quickly changed to concern. “Are you ill? Do you need something…?”

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s just… my time of the month to bleed…”

Understanding washed over his face. “Oh… of course.” He smiled again. “Maybe you can stay tonight instead?”

She nodded. It was exactly what she needed, his arms around her while she dreamed that night. “Yes… I would like that very much.”


	68. Dragon

James ducked, diving to the side as the dragon’s scaled tail whipped over his head, his hair brushing against his neck, indicating just how close he had come to being hit. But with the dragon turned away he had a chance to catch his breath and survey the field to determine where he should strike next.

He had lost track of how long they had been fighting, the dragon refusing to fall, only seeming to fight with greater ferocity as time went on. But James was growing tired, his arms starting to burn, his breath coming shorter. Even fighting through Adamant and the Fade had not left him in this condition.

It worried him. He knew he tired more slowly than other fighters, even compared to Bull and Blackwall. But Nassella and Solas and Bull had been fighting just as long as him. He could only imagine the exhaustion they were likely feeling.

At least he could see the damage they had dealt to the dragon, her wings torn from stray swipes of swords, not to mention Solas’ magic, strips of red, dripping blood, scattered across the beast’s belly. And she heavily favored her back left leg, Bull’s intense focus exposing muscle and tendon, blood seeping into the muddy ground from the wounds.

James had largely focused on the dragon’s front, drawing most of her attention from the others, ducking and dodging, keeping the jaws of the beast away from his body with long swings of his sword. He had to admit, though, that he would likely have been caught multiple times were it not for Solas strategically distracting the dragon with pulses of magic, like an annoying wasp that kept the dragon’s attention drawn two ways. Between the two of them, Bull and Nassella had been given better access to her more vulnerable underbelly and legs.

James watched Nassella duck below the dragon’s head, now that she found herself face to face with the beast, and Bull step forward with a swing of his axe across the beast’s face to keep her focus away from the far smaller elf. And then _he_ ducked out of the way, as the dragon began arching its neck, a sign it was preparing to spew lightning toward whoever was in its way.

With a grunt James ran forward, toward the injured leg, determined to cripple the dragon while he had the chance. All they needed was to restrict the dragon’s mobility, and then the rest would follow…

He planted his feet and swung, focusing all of this strength on hitting the back of the ankle, slicing through the remaining tendon and muscle still holding on until he struck bone. Blood sprayed across his face, and he stumbled back as the dragon lifted the leg, swinging it back toward him uselessly. Left with only three good legs, the dragon tried to hop forward, but only managed to move a few yards before it was back on the ground, screeching into the sky.

“Good work,” Nassella said, appearing at his elbow, blood splattered across her face and armor, a sight that no longer made James feel sick.

James nodded grimly. “It’s not enough… she’s still too mobile.” He watched Bull swing for a leg. “I’ll keep distracting her. You bring down the other leg with Bull.”

“James…”

“I got this,” he said, running toward the dragon’s head. He glanced toward Solas, the elf still channeling his magic toward the dragon. But he only drew its attention, and James was momentarily concerned when lightening flew toward the mage. The feeling was short-lived, however, when the electricity harmlessly circled the elf, disappearing with a flash of light.

Remembering that Solas was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, James continued his dash toward the dragon’s head. With a shout he swung at its neck, leaving a shallow slice into the scales. It swung its head toward him, jaws open and teeth flashing. James jumped back, knowing that getting bit by the dragon would push even his healing abilities to the limit.

They continued their dance for several seconds, the dragon lunging as close as it could, James staying just out of reach, slicing at its neck and head every time it turned toward those attacking its back leg. With one of its legs useless, it certainly made things easier.

It crossed his mind that fighting a dragon was the last thing he ever imagined doing in his life.

After fighting demons, and meeting elves, and seeing magic…

James heard a shout, and looked over to see Nassella on the ground, one of the dragon’s front legs swinging back to swipe at those slicing at its back leg. His gut clenched, and he was about to run toward Nassella, when his vision filled with a blinding flash, the back of his head ringing as if someone had struck him with a metal rod.

His entire body seized, and he was thrown several feet across the ground, losing his sword in the process. For several seconds he struggled to breathe, his ears filled with a buzzing, every other sound muffled. He opened his eyes, foggily trying to see what was happening with the others.

He saw Nassella turning toward him, yelling something. And then the dragon, moving with an agility he thought it wouldn’t still possess, striking her again with its leg, throwing her across the field.

When she fell to the ground, she didn’t get back up.

“No!” James tried to yell, but his throat wouldn’t work how he wanted…

He could feel himself healing, his head clearing, the ache permeating his entire body lessening, but he still couldn’t move, couldn’t stand to go to her…

“Nassella!” Solas shouted, and James shifted his gaze to watch the elf slam his staff into the ground. In response, the dragon’s head slammed to the ground, and it struggled helplessly to break free from the elf’s magical hold.

_Why couldn’t he have done that sooner…?_

Bull had gone into a rage, and took the dragon’s loss of mobility as an opportunity to slam his axe one final time into its leg, bringing the beast finally to its knees.

And then he ran to the head, still pinned by Solas, and struck at the back of its neck again, and again, and again…

Until it slowly sank to the ground with a groan, wings flapping weakly, and then not at all.

James scrambled to his feet, finally able to run toward Nassella, who was still lying motionless on the ground. He fell to his knees at her side and gently reached for her face, avoiding the series of scratches left from her impact with the ground. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but her eyes remained closed.

“Come on… wake up Ness,” he pleaded, stroking her jaw, trying to think of anything he could do to help…

Unlike how he had failed to help her before. He had one job, to keep the dragon’s attention on him. He had said he could handle it. And now she was here, lying on the ground, too close to his nightmares…

“Let me see her,” Solas said from behind.

James tensed, but moved aside. Solas kneeled at her other side, taking her head between his hands, a wash of healing blue magic travelling across her body. Her eyes fluttered again, starting to open, and she shifted her head to the side, muttering under her breath.

“Look out… James. Don’t…”

Solas applied another wave of healing magic. With a final gasp, Nassella opened her eyes fully. She blinked several times before trying to sit up, crying out in pain as she did.

“Stay still vhenan,” Solas murmured, gently easing her to the ground. “Let me examine you.”

She blinked, shaking her head slightly. “James…?”

“Is fine,” Solas interrupted, looking to meet James’ eyes.

James cleared his throat. “I heal, remember,” he said.

Nassella was looking at him, brows furrowed in concern. “The dragon?”

“Dead!” Bull announced as he towered over all of them, his bloodied axe swung across his shoulder. “How’re you feeling Boss? That was quite a hit there.”

“Sore,” Nassella said. “But I’ll live…” She tried to get up again, but winced as she held her right arm against her body.

Solas reached for her arm, gently pulling on it. Nassella whimpered and bit her lip. “Broken,” the mage stated, carefully giving her back the limb. “I’m afraid I don’t have the skills, or the mana, to help much more.”

“That’s all right,” Nassella said, scrambling for her belt. “I should have a healing potion to help with the pain…”

“James, could you find something for a splint?” Solas asked.

“Right… yeah,” James said, standing to search the clearing.

It took longer than he expected, as most of the wood in the dragon’s valley had been burned beyond use. He walked nearly the entire length of the valley before finding a sufficiently unburned tree. After pulling several branches from the trunk he spent a few moments whittling away anything that could cause splinters, before beginning the long trek back.

The entire time, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he could have done differently, how he could have saved Nassella from her injuries. He was supposed to protect her, it was one of the reasons why he was here. It was why he’d spent so much time training, working with Bull and Blackwall so he could fight effectively in this world that required he know how…

He reached Solas and Nassella, the man still kneeling by her side. She had stripped the chainmail layer of her armor from her torso and was holding up the hem of her undershirt while Solas gently looked over her ribs. James could already see the darkening skin across her stomach as bruises developed from her fall.

_I should have done better. She shouldn’t be hurt._

Solas applied another pulse of magic. Nassella reached to cup his cheek.

“I’m fine Solas. Don’t waste your mana,” she said.

Solas sighed, but lowered his hands. “Of course.”

Then Nassella looked toward him, eyes wide with worry. “James… are you sure you’re all right?”

James handed the wood he had found to Solas. “Yes Ness.” He tried to smile. “It will take more than a lightning blast from a dragon to take me down.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know… I was just… so worried.” She rubbed her head. “But I shouldn’t have gotten distracted.”

James shook his head. “No, _I_ got distracted, it’s why I got hit in the first place.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll do better next time.”

“James… you’re doing fine...” Nassella whispered.

James couldn’t look at her, at the way she still looked concerned. He didn’t need her concern. “Is there anything else I can help with Solas?” he asked instead.

Solas had applied a spell to a piece of the wood he had brought, bringing a disapproving look from Nassella. “No, this is fine. Thank you James,” the elf said, dismissing him.

“No problem,” James mumbled as he walked away to help Bull with the removal of the dragon’s hide.

He tried not to think about Nassella while he worked, unhappy with how little he could help her. It wasn’t just that he had failed to keep her safe during the fight. It was also that, once she had been injured, he was nearly useless. He couldn’t ease her pain with magic, couldn’t heal her wounds.

After several moments he took a step back to wipe his brow. He stared at the dragon, laying there in a spreading pool of its own blood. It was like a dinosaur. A fucking dinosaur…

He couldn’t believe they had killed it. It was insane they had even tried.

_No. Bull and Solas killed it. I was nearly knocked out on the floor…_

He looked toward the others, at the elves still kneeling on the ground and the giant horned man working to fully remove the dragon’s head from its body. It was insane, that these were the people he worked with, that his friend was a Qunari and he was in love with an elf…

_No… I… I don’t love her. Not like that._

It was his life. His parents and most of his siblings were dead, and he now spent his days fighting through demons and red lyrium riddled Templars and giants… hardly blinked an eye when the elf he worked for suggested they fight a dragon.

“Need help with that James?” Bull asked, striding over after finishing with his task.

James blinked and looked back to the dragon’s body. “Umm… yeah.” He bent down to continue separating the skin to the body, hacking at the membranes keeping everything connected.

“You seem a little shook up. Sure that lightening didn’t knock you around more than you thought?”

James tugged on the skin, dropping it in frustration when it refused to move. “Quit worrying about me being hurt! I heal, remember?”

Bull raised his eyebrow. “That giant almost had you a few weeks ago.”

James flushed, remembering how incapacitated he had been for days after that encounter. “Well, a bolt of lightning is nothing compared to that.”

“All right, all right. I won’t worry about you being hurt.” Bull tugged on the skin, ripping it another few inches. “You still seem a little off.”

James sighed. “This is just… I don’t know. I used to think it was… _cool_ to be in a place like this. With the dragons and… I don’t know.” He wiped his face again. “But it’s just insane. It’s… insane that I do this now.”

Bull glanced at him from the corner of his eye, then went back to work. “You’ve been going at it pretty hard the last few months,” Bull observed. “We all have. It will be good to get back to Skyhold. Have a drink. Take a break.”

James moved to assist the other man. “Yeah, it will.”

 

* * *

 

Nassella shifted painfully, trying to make lying on the hard ground more comfortable with her bruised ribs and aching body, keeping her arm as still as she could. Solas had infused the wood in the splint with a rune to dull pain, but it could only mask so much, and did nothing for the rest of her body. She knew she was lucky, however, considering how far she had been thrown by the dragon, to only have the injuries that she did.

She considered it had been foolish to go after the dragon with such small numbers, but no one had questioned her decision. And they really had needed the experience when it came to taking down such a beast. She didn’t know where she would be the next time Corypheus’ dragon showed up.

But the fight had been close. Too close for her liking.

Solas entered the tent, a waterskin in his hand. Nassella tried to sit up, wincing as she did.

“Vhenan,” Solas said, a frown pulling his brows together. “Please try to stay still.”

She stalled her motion, allowing him to ease her back to the ground with a gentle push. She couldn’t help but smile at how attentive he had been since they had left the dragon behind, but she felt he was being a little ridiculous.

“Is James all right?” she asked.

Solas frowned. “He would not let me examine him,” he said. “But you needn’t worry. He shows no signs of being ill affected by the dragon’s strike.”

Nassella shook her head at James’ stubbornness, but tried to tell herself that Solas was right. After the other injuries the man had sustained, there was no reason to believe this one would cause him more pain.

Still, when she remembered the way he had been thrown by the lightning, the few seconds he had been motionless, her heart started to race once more…

She tried to sit up again. “I’ll talk to him…” she started to say, but Solas firmly took her shoulder in a hand.

“Nassella,” he said firmly. “If I did not think he was perfectly healthy, I would insist on examining him. But he is _fine._ Please, do not push yourself further.”

She fell to her back in resignation, rubbing a hand along her temples. “I know, I know… I just… don’t want to lose him too…And the risks he takes...” She took a deep breath, then took the waterskin offered to her from Solas’ hands. “And I know how far I can push myself.”

He sat next to her on the ground, gently running a hand along her bare, uninjured arm. “In some ways, yes.”

Nassella took a long drink from the container, trying to determine what he meant. When she came up with nothing, she decided to ask. “And in others?”

Solas sighed, concern washing over his face. “You have taken no time for yourself since learning of your clan, vhenan.”

Nassella felt her throat closing, but tried to push it away. “You’re the one who reminded me of all the work left to do,” she said. “That I don’t have time for myself like that.”

“To return to Skyhold,” Solas returned, brows furrowing further. “To return to the Inquisition. I did not intend to push you into this constant fighting so soon after losing the ones you love.”

Nassella looked away, blinking away the tears forming in her eyes. “I have to keep fighting Solas. Everyone’s counting on me. It’s the only way to get justice for them…”

His hand found her cheek, turning her face back toward his. His gray eyes searched hers, and she felt herself losing control of her tears. She increased her blinking. “My heart,” Solas said, hurt seeping into his voice. “Why won’t you cry in front of me?”

Her lip began to tremble, and she knew she couldn’t hold back her tears much longer. It was what she had tried to avoid, showing weakness to this man who said he had fallen in love with her spirit, with her focus on doing what needed to be done to stop Corypheus. What would he do when he realized she was just scared and unsure and struggling to do what was right, that she was no great leader?

And he was so often impassive, rarely showed what he was feeling. She wanted to emulate that, prove that she could be strong, as he certainly was.

But he wasn’t hiding his emotions now. No, at the moment he was looking at her openly, hiding none of the hurt in his gaze, the hint of uncertainty. She remembered how she had ignored his attempt to comfort her back in the Free Marches, that she had turned to James instead. She had not broken down again. It was foolish to think Solas would not have noticed, would not consider that her feelings had changed toward him.

But why couldn’t Solas provide her the same comfort as James? If she loved Solas, and she _did_ love him, then she could be vulnerable in front of him. She _had_ to be…

“I don’t want you to think I’m weak,” she whispered finally. “That I can’t… that I can’t do this.”

He was lying at her side in the next instant, a hand gently crossing her stomach, the other stroking her hair. “Nassella… there is no weakness in grief.” Her tears started to fall. “You have every right to grieve.”

“But… but…”

“Please vhenan… I will never think you are weak.”

She let out a small sob. Why had she been so hesitant to open up to him? Why had she tried to pull away? She loved him, wanted to be with him, and he had responded just as he thought he would to her pain…

She turned as best she could toward him, ignoring how her body protested, and threw her uninjured arm over him. She looked at him and didn’t try to stop her tears. “I… I’m sorry Solas…”

He rubbed a hand along her back. “Why?”

_Because I love someone else. Because I trusted him more with my feelings than you…_

“I’m afraid to lose you and… and I was stupid and thought you wouldn’t understand, but…” She sniffed. “I love you Solas. Please, you have to know that…”

_And never know about James…_

She loved Solas. That’s what the racing of her heart meant, why she panicked when she thought of him leaving. She would ignore what she felt about James and it would go away.

“I know vhenan,” Solas whispered, drawing her closer. “And I… don’t want to lose you either.”

Nassella leaned in to take his lips with hers, relishing in the warmth and softness of his touch. But she was still crying and had to pull away as her lips began to tremble violently, her face growing wet with her tears. She buried her face in Solas’ tunic, letting another wave of her grief loose, a flood she hadn’t realized had been repressed.

And when she was done crying, still held in Solas’ arms as she drifted toward sleep, she pushed away every thought that compared how she felt with Solas wrapped around her to the feeling of James.


	69. As the Deer Longs for Water

Naomi sat curled on the wall surrounding the courtyard in Skyhold, her chin on her knees, watching as a white-tailed deer browsed on one of the bushes along the opposite wall. She sighed and the animal paused its work, flicking its tail and tossing its head in her direction before returning to the leaves.

It was the third night Naomi had seen the same doe in the Fade. The first had been the night after she realized she would never have children, when she had sought the most comforting part of the Fade she knew. She’d hoped the plants would be in bloom, that there would be new blossoms from some distant memory she could examine. But the Fade had reflected her mood, and the garden she had found was locked in the depths of winter, trees and shrubs nothing but skeletons against drifts of blowing snow. She’d wandered the paths for a few moments, hoping that something would change, that it would not stay cold and barren and bleak. But then she’d rounded a corner and come face to face with the slender animal, looking at her with large eyes and ears turned forward with curiosity. It had been a shock to encounter the deer, a species she didn’t believe occurred anywhere but her home world. It had pushed her over the edge, and she’d tried to stifle a sob as tears overflowed. The deer had spooked, turning and bounding away with tail waving like a white flag, leaving Naomi alone in the snowy garden to mourn children she didn’t even have.

She knew it was years away, but she had always wanted children, a family of her own. Children she would love and support, who she would try to raise to be the best people she could. Children who she could examine for resemblances to herself, to her partner, for beautiful combinations of the two. Children who could be there even when everyone she knew had passed…

But none of that would happen now, and Naomi had mourned for what had been taken from her. Not only her family, her past life, and her future on Earth, but her future in this world, and her ability to build a new family, was gone.

The second night had started out little different, the garden devoid of life, her body shivering with the cold. The deer had returned, nosing around for stray twigs and shoots across the garden. Naomi had watched the animal work, wrapped around herself, knowing she had to pull herself out of her misery, but unable to do so for long, growing angrier and angrier at how unfair it was to have this taken from her too.

“It’s not fucking fair!” she’d finally yelled into the garden, spooking the deer for the second night in a row. It had saddened Naomi to lose her silent companion, the only creature that had yet to witness her grief.

There was no one for her to talk to, no one to share her sadness, her sense of loss, her frustration, to get her thoughts out of her head. Her mother was dead, her best friend and brother were travelling, and she couldn’t talk to Cullen…

It was too soon.

It was frustrating to dream consciously in the Fade. At least when she was awake she could throw herself into work, distract herself with the horses or asking Dagna questions while the dwarf worked. And she had taken up her bow again, practicing with Sera until she was exhausted.

In the Fade there was nothing to distract her, and she had no freedom from her thoughts, just a constant stream of anger and longing and sorrow. The only good thing was her ability to expend most of her tears where no one could see.

But she’d remembered after spooking the deer that she didn’t have to stop training just because she was in the Fade. She’d turned once again to a bow, aiming at anything she could around the courtyard, pushing herself to hit more distant, more difficult targets. But such exercises were easier in the Fade, and her mind had still been too free to wander. She’d brought blades to her hands with a thought instead, striking at a cloth-covered dummy until even her body in the Fade was exhausted.

Now it was the third night and Naomi was still struggling to pull herself back together. She knew she couldn’t wallow in sorrow forever, couldn’t mourn children she didn’t even have, especially after everything else that had happened, everything else she had lost. But she couldn’t stop thinking about her future, couldn’t quite accept that she would really be childless.

Naomi watched the deer eat, the garden no longer freezing and leaves sprouting from branches. She supposed it was a good sign, but couldn’t muster the energy to inspect anything closer. The doe walked a few feet forward, her tail flicking with flashes of white, swiping away insects that didn’t exist in the Fade, nuzzling her nose into the branches of a bush. She pulled a mouthful of the tender leaves away from the branch and turned toward Naomi while it chewed, studying her with round, dark eyes.

_As the deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God…_

It was the closest to praying she ever came, just repeating small lines from her favorite verses when they came to mind. It hadn’t helped her decide anything, but it reminded her of what she believed.

This wasn’t God’s fault. He was with her. She wasn’t alone, even when it sometimes felt like she was.

Naomi didn’t know where this deer had come from, why some aspect of the Fade had pulled from her memories in this way, but the deer was a constant reminder of the home she had been pulled from, and the frustrating similarities between that old world and this new one.

_Maybe… maybe I’m wrong. Surely if our worlds were so different, nothing would look the same…_

_It doesn’t matter if things look the same. That doesn’t say anything about their genetics._

_But… the chances are already so small that there would be people that look like humans. Maybe it extends to more…_

_No! It’s not possible! I can’t hope for something that can’t be true!_

Naomi glared at the deer. She couldn’t allow herself to hope, not with this. It would just make it more difficult in the end.

_But… what if…?_

With a frustrated grunt Naomi slid from the wall and fell to the ground. She covered her eyes with her hands, lying prostrate in the new spring grass, and forced her mind to confront the biology of the problem head-on.

Maybe, if she could organize her thoughts, remind herself of why it would never work… she could finally have some peace.

“The problem isn’t physical compatibility…” Naomi mumbled to herself, thinking about Cullen’s face and his body, and the way he looked at her before he kissed her…

_God… it’s certainly not that…_

“…which is why it took so long for me to realize that genetically I’m not the same,” she continued, frowning as she focused and worked her way through the steps.

“So… first sperm needs to meet up with the egg…”

_I… don’t think that would be the problem. Life here is probably similar in that way._

_And I suppose I could check if I ever get a microscope…_

“But… eggs and sperm need to have the right chemical signals to meet up. I doubt those are the same between me and anyone here.”

Naomi rubbed her closed eyes. She hadn’t even gotten to the point where genetic material met up, and she had already identified a large stumbling block.

_Why am I doing this? It’s just going to depress me…_

_No… I need to work through this. Otherwise I’ll always hope._

“So, saying the egg and sperm can meet up… Is life here even based on DNA?”

 _Probably… I think scientists thought it likely life elsewhere would be DNA based. But it doesn’t_ have _to be. But I’m not sure if James and I would have survived here if it wasn’t DNA…_

“Ok, so yes, let’s say life uses DNA here. That’s not the problem. But what are the chances humans have forty-six chromosomes here?”

_Not likely. Me having forty-six is just a consequence of ancestry, so since humans here have different ancestry, there’s nothing saying they would have forty-six as well._

“Of course… horses and donkeys have offspring without the same number of chromosomes,” she mused. “As long as my number of chromosomes aren’t that different from Cullen’s… it might work.” She frowned. “Though, mules are sterile, and that would be the case for any of my children as well. So the problem is just passed on a generation…”

Naomi groaned. That outcome was hardly better than no children at all.

_And the information on chromosomes is what’s really important…_

“Are the bases the same? Do we have the same genes that code for the same proteins?”

Naomi shook her head. Uracil already replaced thymine on RNA in her own body, and she imagined other alternatives to bases could exist. Any single base on Cullen’s DNA replaced with a slight alternative would stop the process. A child couldn’t be made with one set of readable chromosomes.

And that wasn’t even considering how every important chemical pathway to trigger development would have to be the same between herself and the people of Thedas for children to happen. Considering the large number of genes, the countless ways the same physical results could be achieved…

“It’s not possible.”

Naomi sighed. There were likely several other factors she hadn’t considered, steps of development and reproduction she was unfamiliar with. But she had already identified several places where, if even one molecule was different, one important gene altered, the entire process would end.

“It’s not possible,” she repeated, settling herself further into the grass. She rubbed at her eyes again, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. She’d apparently been holding on to more hope than she had thought.

For several moments she laid on the ground, her arms crossed over her stomach and eyes closed, solidifying in her mind that her future would include no biological children of her own.

_Maybe it’s for the best._

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, but followed the thought to its completion.

_I’ve been so worried about taking care of a child, in addition to myself. Now… I won’t have to worry about that. No matter what happens to James, or Cullen… I’ll only have myself to take care of._

It… didn’t exactly make her feel better.

 _It’s not the most important thing. I don’t_ need _to have children._

_But Cullen might._

The thought made her chest ache.

If Cullen knew he wanted children, if he wanted a family of his own… he wouldn’t be able to have it with her.

A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it away before it could fall from her face into her hair.

_I… I need to tell him._

But it was too soon. How could she talk to him about children? It had only been a few months. They hadn’t… hadn’t thought about the future in those terms.

And now they never would, because she suspected he _would_ want his own children, which meant it would be best if he found someone else. Someone who could give him a family.

If that was the case, it would be better for her as well, to end their relationship now, before she fell even more in love with him.

The thought of that conversation left Naomi’s heart racing, her stomach twisting with anxiety. She didn’t want to lose him. She actually felt comfortable talking with Cullen, and she could talk to him about _anything_ , including her home. He’d been there, more than anyone else, when she had grieved for her parents and sister. He’d already offered what support he could, now that she decided to pursue research once more, interested even if he didn’t entirely understand what she hoped to accomplish.

And he made her feel safe, not only around Skyhold, or when they travelled, but when she was alone with him. She never had to question, never had to worry about what he would do, that he would want more from her than she was ready to give.

Which was the only reason why she felt ready to give him everything, why she wanted a relationship with him in every sense.

She didn’t want to lose that, didn’t want to lose what he had helped her overcome.

Her mind wandered to thoughts of Cullen wrapped around her, the way it felt to kiss him, knowing it would end when she could muster the courage to talk to him. In the Fade she could almost feel him, the heat and firmness of his body holding hers, his hands slowly running along the curve of her waist. And then more insistent, hands on her breasts, lips pressed to her neck in the way that made it difficult for her to think straight, caused her sex to pulse with need.

Sensations that had all become far too real…

Panicked, Naomi opened her eyes, realizing immediately she was no longer alone, a man’s body hovering over hers, pinning her to the floor, hands and mouth running across her skin. A man’s body with the same scent, build, and hair as Cullen.

“Get off me!” she yelled, pushing at the chest of the demon who had taken Cullen’s form, cursing herself for letting her guard down when she was so emotional, frantically steeling herself against whatever this demon would throw at her. The demon rolled away enough for Naomi to scramble away and to her feet, blade appearing in her hand with a familiar weight.

Golden eyes bore into hers as the demon stood. Naomi swallowed nervously, thrown off by the perfect resemblance it had to Cullen…

“Why?” it said, Cullen’s smooth, warm voice falling past its lips. He stepped forward, reaching for her. “I thought this is what you wanted?” He sounded hurt.

“From him, not you,” Naomi said, voice shaking slightly, pointing the knife toward the imitation of Cullen.

He stopped. “We are no different,” he said finally, taking another step forward. Naomi backed up. “Except I won’t leave because you can’t give me children.” Another step forward. “I can give you everything you want, everything you will lose when he leaves. My desire won’t fade because you will be childless…” He had moved through his entire speech, and Naomi found herself backed against the garden wall.

“No,” she said, adjusting her grip on the knife. “I won’t give into you.”

Cullen smiled, a sight that twisted Naomi’s gut. It moved forward, until the blade of her knife was pressed to his chest. “You won’t hurt me,” he murmured, coming even closer.

Naomi’s heart raced, and she pressed the blade to Cullen’s… No, the demon’s throat. But it was right…

She couldn’t bring herself to kill it.

Cullen, no, the demon, chuckled, placing its hands on her hips and pushing her against the wall in one motion. It immediately set to fumbling with the hems of her clothing, pushing beneath her tunic to run fingers along her skin. Naomi tried to keep him away, but only had one hand free as she gripped the blade she couldn’t seem to use. He started to tug at her breeches.

Her heart pounded in her ears. _I need to kill it…_

But it was Cullen…

No. It was a demon.

Naomi shifted her grip and slammed the knife into the demon’s shoulder. “Stop! I won’t give you anything!”

Instead of releasing her as she had hoped, the demon grabbed her hand holding the knife, taking it and pinning it against the wall. Naomi tried to pull herself free, but realized she wasn’t strong enough. Fear shot through every muscle in her body.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

“You will think differently, after I show you what you will miss…” the demon breathed into her ear.

Naomi closed her eyes, still struggling to pull free from the demon’s grasp. She needed to wake up, where it couldn’t reach her…

But she couldn’t focus, couldn’t find her way back as the demon turned to kissing her neck once more, slowly rolling its hips against hers.

The demon’s body suddenly slammed into hers with a grunt, and Naomi gasped as the air was driven from her lungs. She opened her eyes just as the demon slumped to the ground, leaving in its stead the doe, now a buck, sharp points of its antlers dripping with blood.

It stared at her with those round, dark eyes.

Free from one demon, but suddenly afraid of what this deer might be or do, Naomi stumbled away from the creature with a gasp, tripping over the collapsed body at her feet. She ran across the garden, taking a flight of stairs two at a time until she reached a long hallway. Looking over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t been followed, she closed her eyes once more and reached for the waking world, kicking herself for being so careless. So _stupid._

* * *

 

Naomi let out a long sigh and Cullen rubbed his hand gently along the arm draped across his chest, wondering if she was dreaming, or just sleeping restlessly.

He hoped if she was dreaming that they were more pleasant than his. He had woken from nightmares several hours before, head also pounding with one of the worst headaches he had experienced in weeks. Worse than the headache that had kept him up the night before. Normally, on nights like this, he would walk the walls until the pain had subsided, returning to his desk to work on reports, or plan troop movements for the rest of the night.

But it was much more difficult to leave his bed when Naomi was in it, so he had stayed, even when it grew too warm to be comfortable. He’d tried to fall back asleep, but the pain was too distracting and he’d occupied his mind, when he could think straight, reviewing everything he, and the Inquisition, knew of the red Templars, making plans for how they could find their supply of red lyrium.

 _It’s Samson,_ Cullen thought. _We need to find him and take him down. Before the red Templars can gain more strength…_

_The Emerald Graves. There are indications they are smuggling red lyrium there. I’ll suggest the Inquisitor investigate…_

Suddenly, Naomi’s entire body tensed, her hand clutching at his chest, nails running across his bare skin. Her breathing increased and Cullen sat up, noting how her brows had pulled together even in sleep.

Apparently, her dreams weren’t as peaceful as he had hoped.

He reached to stroke her jaw, moving loose hair away from her face. “Naomi,” he whispered, “You’re dreaming. Wake up love…” She moved her face away, making small sounds in the back of her throat.

“Naomi,” he repeated, louder and more insistent. She was clearly having a nightmare…

“No,” she mumbled, “I won’t give into you…”

Cullen sat up and started to gently shake her shoulder. He didn’t like the course this dream seemed to be taking. “Wake up Naomi,” he said once more, raising his voice.

But she didn’t, weakly striking out with a fist that missed his body. “Stop…”

Cullen didn’t know what to do, couldn’t explain why she wasn’t waking. He continued to repeat her name, shaking her shoulder, but could only watch as she tossed her head, frowning and pushing against an invisible enemy…

As suddenly as it began, her body relaxed. And then her eyes flew open.

Relieved, Cullen reached for her face. “Naomi,” he asked gently, “are you all right?”

Panic crossed her face and she backed away, distancing their bodies. “Don’t…” She took a deep breath. “Where…?”

Cullen’s chest tightened, even more certain of the type of nightmare she had been having. “You’re awake,” he said gently, recognizing the confusion he often felt when waking from a nightmare. It was better when she was there. Naomi never appeared in his nightmares.

She said nothing, instead staring into her hand for a moment. Then she nodded, looking back to him. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she whispered, drawing her knees to her chest.

“I was already awake,” he replied. He studied her face, at the way she wouldn’t quite look at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her eyes widened. “No! I mean…” She shook her head. “Sorry, I just…”

Cullen swallowed. “Do you want me to leave?” he whispered.

She shook her head again, finally looking at him. “No, no! I don’t want that… That’s not…” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly.

“It’s all right,” Cullen said. “Just… take your time. Then you can try to get some more sleep…”

“No!” she exclaimed, panicked once again. “I can’t go back there!”

Cullen frowned, confused at the way she was referring to her dreams. “All right…”

She took a deep breath, then moved toward him. “I’m fine, Cullen.” She reached for his hand. “I’ll just stay awake and… Are _you_ all right?” she asked, frowning at him. “Why were you awake?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware once more of the pounding behind his eyes. “I’ve had a headache most of the night.”

She squeezed his hand. “Oh Cullen. Is there something I can get you? Tea? Or I could get some herbs from the undercroft…”

“No, don’t bother Naomi. The potion… hasn’t been helping much lately.”

Disappointment crossed her features. “Really? I’m sorry, I’ll see if there’s anything I can adjust…”

He smiled, running a thumb across her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle the pain.”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to,” she whispered. Then after a pause, “Is there anything else that might help?”

“Perhaps a walk…”

The words were barely past his lips before she was nodding, sliding from the bed and reaching for her tunic. “Yes, yes, let’s do that…”

They passed through the neighboring tower before they spoke again, both breathing in the fresh air of the night.

“How long were you awake?” Naomi asked after they passed one of the night watch.

“Most of the night,” Cullen replied, opening the door to the next tower, waiting for Naomi to enter before following. “I’ve been thinking about Samson, and how to find his red lyrium supply.”

Naomi looked back at him, then shook her head and ran her hand through her hair. “It’s terrible, what’s happened to the Templars,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine most of them realized what would be the result of taking red lyrium. At least not at first.”

“No,” Cullen replied, opening the next door. “I can’t either. To willingly allow this to be done to them…” But then he paused. Most may not have realized the consequences, but he _could_ imagine how this had happened, how the Order than been brought to this point. Templars took regular lyrium with little thought. It would have taken essentially nothing to offer a red variety to them, a variety with promises of greater strength, of assured victory against forces the Order believed had turned against them…

“Cullen, is something wrong?”

He cleared his throat, closing the door behind him as he followed Naomi into the open air. “No, I was just thinking that…” He met her worried gaze. “I could have been one of them,” he admitted. “Had I not left...”

Naomi stepped toward him, taking his hand. “But you d _id_ leave. Don’t… don’t think on what _could_ have happened…” She paused, looking up at the stars. Cullen watched her, waiting as she collected her thoughts. Finally she brought her eyes back to his. “That’s… something I need to remember. I can’t focus on how things could have turned out differently, good or bad. Especially things I can’t change. And you,” she took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t either. We’re here now, and that’s what’s important.”

_Yes… that’s why I’m here. To make a fresh start. To distance myself from the past._

Cullen reached for her face, and didn’t miss the way she flinched slightly at the touch. He dropped his hand. “Naomi… what’s wrong? You haven’t had nightmares in weeks…”

She swallowed, dropping her gaze. “I’ve just been… feeling a little homesick. And I miss James and Nassella…”

He knew it was more than that. She hadn’t asked him to leave, was holding his hand, but the way she had now pulled away twice indicated what the nature of her dreams had been. He made a note to hold back, to wait for her to initiate intimacy for the next few days. Or however long it would take.

“Can I help?” he asked.

Naomi shook her head. “No… I don’t think so.” She pulled him to start walking. “But it will pass. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Cullen followed her, wanting to push more, but knew she was probably right. He wouldn’t know where to start when it came to easing her longing for home. He was grateful that the Inquisitor was expected back in the next few days. If anyone could help her with homesickness, it would be her brother.

“I’m still going to revisit the potion,” Naomi said, moving on with her thoughts. “There must be something more I can do…”

“Thank you Naomi, but if it doesn’t seem to be working, don’t worry yourself over this.”

She squeezed his hand. “Of course I’m going to worry Cullen. Leaving this behind is hurting you, and I want to help.” She glanced at him and lifted one corner of her mouth. “And anyone else too,” she added. “I haven’t asked but… are there any other Templars who want to give up lyrium like you did?”

Cullen shook his head. “Not that I know of. The Templars with the Inquisition want the full strength of their abilities.”

“That makes sense,” Naomi said. “But if anyone changes their minds, I’d like to help. And it would be good to get more subjects to test the potion…” she trailed off, and Cullen could see the way she had frowned.

“Naomi?”

She cleared her throat, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Um… There is one Templar who’s stopped taking lyrium…”

“Who?”

“Alec,” she said quietly.

Cullen stopped walking, turning toward Naomi. “No,” he said, a stab of anger coursing through him. He hadn’t thought about that man in months.

Naomi grimaced. “I know, but… he must be in pain…”

“As he should be,” Cullen said. He couldn’t believe Naomi was suggesting helping that man, especially considering the nightmares she had…

Except, he _could_ believe she would want to help him.

“I know he did terrible things, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be in pain. Not when there are ways to help him.”

“Naomi, you can’t honestly think… I won’t allow it,” he said.

Naomi pulled her hand back and crossed her arms. “I know you’re angry with him… but shouldn’t you… talk to the others about this? If I ask Nassella when she returns…”

“No!” Cullen said, reaching for her shoulders. “Naomi… he _hurt_ you. You don’t have to give him anything. You certainly don’t have to _help_ him.”

Naomi wrinkled her nose. “It wouldn’t just be helping _him,_ Cullen. I need to be able to give the potion to more people, to know how effective it is. It’s terrible science to only have one test subject. It could be helping any other Templar that decided they no longer wanted to be tied to lyrium. You can see the advantage of that, right?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course I want to help the other Templars… but not at your expense!”

Naomi covered his hand with hers. “I wouldn’t have suggested if I wasn’t ok with this Cullen. Just… think about it, all right?”

Cullen wanted to refuse again, but repressed his gut reaction when he looked at Naomi’s hopeful expression. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I will… consider it…”

“Thank you,” Naomi whispered. She took his hand and linked her fingers with his. “I’m sorry I upset you. I just think this will be helpful.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his temples, his headache once again flaring. “I know Naomi. I just… don’t want you to be hurt again.”

“I know,” she responded, drawing him into a hug. He breathed in the scent of her hair, mostly clean, but smelling faintly of the stables, careful to keep his hands high on her back. When she pulled back she gave him a small smile. “Let’s… find somewhere to look at the stars,” she suggested.

He nodded, trying to put thoughts of Alec out of his mind. “Yes, let’s do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psalm 42


	70. Home

James dropped to the ground from Echo’s saddle, patting the horse on the neck while he looked toward the towers and walls of Skyhold surrounding him, a sight he hadn’t seen in over two months.

He wasn’t sure how he should feel about being back in the fortress. It was comforting, in one sense, to have the walls around him, that he knew he would be safe that night, wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked. But he’d spent so little time in Skyhold over the last few months that it didn’t exactly feel like returning home.

He was drawn from his thoughts suddenly when he caught movement below his gaze, a pair of arms thrown around his neck, his name yelled excitedly. He stumbled back, pushed slightly off balance, but wrapped his own arms around Naomi as she pressed her face into his chest. He couldn’t help but smile at the series of excited noises that emanated from the back of her throat as she squeezed him tightly. “Hey,” he said.

She pulled back and smiled at him, though her blue-green eyes narrowed slightly as well. “I haven’t seen you in over a month, and all you can say is ‘hey’?”

James shrugged, his arms still around her back. “What do you want me to say?” he asked with a grin.

Naomi rolled her eyes. “I don’t know… maybe I missed you, I’m glad you’re all right, I’m really happy to see you…” She sniffed, pulling an arm free to wipe her eyes.

James pulled her back into their hug. “Fine,” he said, feigning annoyance. “I missed you. I’m glad you’re all right…” He tightened his hold, a pang forming in the back of his throat. “I’m really happy to see you.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Naomi mumbled into his tunic. After a few seconds she took a deep breath, then pulled entirely away, retrieving her arms. “Sorry. I know you don’t like hugging.” She studied his face, then wiped her eyes again. “I’m just so glad you’re back.”

He reached out to rub her shoulder. “Hey, don’t cry…” he said, even as his own eyes started to sting slightly. It was almost strange to see her face, and strange to consider hers wasn’t the most familiar face he knew anymore.

“I know, I know,” she said, reaching for Echo’s reins. “Anyway,” she continued, smiling brightly at him, “we can catch up more later tonight.”

“Actually…”

“What?”

“We were going to go to the tavern tonight.”

“Oh… who?”

“Ness, Bull, the Chargers… probably everyone else.”

“Ah,” Naomi said, running a hand through her hair.

“You could come you know,” James offered.

“I know,” she said, disappointment in her tone. “I was just… hoping to hear how you’re doing and… there’s some things I wanted to talk to you and Ness about…”

She sounded worried, and James was going to ask what was bothering her when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder, Bull’s voice rumbling in his ear.

“Hey Naomi, it’s good to see you,” the Qunari said. “We brought your brother back for you, safely in one piece.”

“It’s good to see you too!” she said, smiling at the warrior. “And I appreciate that.”

“It wasn’t easy though,” Bull continued. “The way this kid likes to put himself r _ight_ in front of dragons…”

James could see the panic that crossed Naomi’s face, the way her eyes grew even wider than they normally were. James turned to glare at Bull.

“Dragon?” Naomi croaked.

“Yeah,” Bull said, stepping away from James to point toward the wagon just passing through Skyhold’s gates, the large, still partially flesh-covered skull of the dragon lashed to the top. A fist thumped into James’ shoulder, and he turned his glare to Naomi.

“What was that for?”

“A dragon!?” Naomi exclaimed, gesturing toward the grisly display drawing the attention of Skyhold’s residents. “When were you going to mention you fought a fucking dragon!?”

James sighed, rubbing the spot where she’d hit him. “I don’t know… when you saw the skull.”

Naomi let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to Echo. “Unbelievable…” she muttered under her breath as she tugged his bags from the saddle.

“Don’t be too hard on him Naomi. James can handle himself.”

Naomi paused, then handed James his things. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “It just caught me off guard.”

“It was Ness’s idea,” James said, defending himself.

“I said I get it,” Naomi huffed, clearly still angry. She sighed again. “Can we at least have dinner together tonight?”

“Yeah, of course,” James said, caught slightly off guard by her abrupt change in subject. She nodded, then led Echo away.

“I can never do anything right around her,” James grumbled, turning toward Bull.

The Qunari crossed his arms, studying him with his one good eyes. “Do you remember what was written on that tombstone of hers in the Fade?” he asked eventually.

James shook his head. He’d tried to put most of that experience out of his mind. “I don’t know…”

“Loss,” Bull said. He nodded in Naomi’s direction. “She doesn’t think you’ve done anything wrong. She’s just afraid. Considering what we do, there’s a good chance you won’t come back every time you leave.”

“I know that,” James said. “I’m out there fighting every day…”

“And she knows that too,” Bull said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But all she can do is sit here and hope you come back.”

James rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t do anything about that.”

Bull shrugged, dropping his hand. “Maybe not. But you’re here now, so…” He smirked. “Try not to fight the entire time.”

The Qunari wandered off and James watched as Naomi entered the stables. He still didn’t think she should be getting angry at him for failing to mention they had fought a dragon in the first two minutes of seeing her. But she was his sister, his only family… he could be more excited to see her again. It was easy to not think about her while travelling, knowing she was safe in Skyhold. But Bull was right. Knowing Naomi, she probably thought, and worried, about him all the time. The least he could do was be there, now that he could.

He thought to follow her to the stables and help with his horse, but when he saw Nassella headed in that direction, he changed his mind. He wouldn’t be the only person Naomi missed, and if he was honest, he needed some distance from the elf. He needed to let her go, for good, and now that he was in Skyhold, he could finally try to do just that.

 

* * *

 

 

Nassella led Vir’nehn into the stables, grateful to be away from the crowds that had gathered outside to greet her arrival. She’d almost forgotten how overwhelming crowds could be after travelling for so long with a small group of close friends, and knew it would be an adjustment to be back in Skyhold. But despite the work she knew awaited her, she was excited to see the rest of the friends she hadn’t seen in weeks. Including Naomi, Nassella thought, when she spotted the woman at the far end of the stables.

Her friend was leaning against the saddle of James’ horse, head resting on an arm, shoulders slumped. But she looked up when Nassella approached, eyes immediately dropping to her arm still bound in a sling.

“Ness,” she said, concern coloring her voice. “What happened?”

Nassella glanced at her arm. “I had a little run-in with the dragon,” she said lightly.

Naomi frowned. “It looks like more than just a run-in. Why were you fighting a dragon in the first place?”

“We need to know how to kill them,” Nassella said. “We were lucky Corypheus’ dragon left at Adamant, but I know we’ll come across it again. We need to be ready.”

Naomi sighed, but nodded. “That makes sense…”

Nassella could tell she was still worried, so stepped forward to gently rub her arm. “We made it back,” she said. “And that means next time, we’ll be even better prepared.”

Naomi looked at her and tried to smile, her eyes slightly wet. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be so upset about this.” She looked back at her arm.

“I understand.”

Then Naomi’s arms were wrapped gently around her, the woman’s chin resting against the top of Nassella’s head. “I’m so glad your back,” she said quietly. She was quiet for a moment, then continued. “I’m so sorry about your clan Ness,” she said with a sniff. It brought tears to Nassella’s eyes. “If you need to talk, or cry…”

“I know,” Nassella whispered, warmth spreading through her entire body. She had no doubt who she would have turned to, had Naomi been there when she discovered her clan. She wrapped her good arm around the woman and squeezed her tightly. “I missed you so much Naomi.”

“Me too.”

After a moment Naomi loosened her hold and Nassella followed her lead, pulling back and releasing her friend from her grip. Naomi wiped her eyes.

“Are you doing all right Ness?”

Nassella nodded. “Yes…” Naomi raised her eyebrows slightly. Nassella took her hand. “I’m doing better.”

“Seriously Ness, if you need anything…”

Nassella smiled. “Right now I want to relax, and spend the night catching up with everyone.”

Naomi sighed and nodded. “James mentioned the tavern.”

“You’ll come too, right?”

“Yes, yes of course!” Naomi said, turning to see to James’ horse. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Is something wrong?”

Naomi shook her head, glancing toward her. “No… nothing’s wrong.”

Nassella didn’t quite believe her. “You seem upset.”

Naomi opened her mouth to speak, then glanced over her shoulder. She quickly closed her mouth and stood up taller, straightening her tunic. Nassella looked back to see Cullen walking the length of the stables. He smiled as he approached, eyes mainly focused on Naomi, but shifted his gaze toward her as he approached.

“It’s good to have you back Inquisitor,” he said with a nod. “We’ve missed you.” Then he frowned when he saw her arm. “I didn’t realize you were injured…”

She smiled back at the Commander. “It’s not that bad Commander. I was going to see Vivienne for a healing session. And then I take it you, Josephine, and Leliana will want to meet with me soon? I know there is much to discuss.”

Cullen nodded, his golden eyes once more finding hers. “For a short meeting, perhaps, but the longer briefings can wait until tomorrow. I’m sure you will want to relax after your journey and take time to heal…”

Naomi snorted behind her, and Nassella tugged at her earlobe with a grin. “I was actually hoping to spend the evening in the tavern.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. “That certainly could count as relaxation.”

“Will you stop by?” Nassella asked.

Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m not sure…”

“Yeah, you should come,” Naomi offered, smiling from where she continued to unburden the horse. “It will be fun.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps…”

“You certainly don’t have to,” Nassella said, sure to give him an escape. “But you’re always welcome.”

“I will consider it,” Cullen said. Then he looked toward Naomi. “Lo- Naomi? Will I see you at dinner?”

“I was going to eat with James.”

“Of course. And you’re going to the tavern?”

“Yeah.”

“Will I… see you after?” Nassella distinctly saw him flush.

“I’ll… probably go back to my own room,” Naomi said, her own cheeks turned slightly pink.

Disappointment briefly crossed Cullen’s features, but he nodded. “Yes, of course.” He hesitated, then stepped forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “I will… see you tomorrow then,” he said quietly. Naomi nodded and smiled. Cullen gave a final nod to Nassella, then walked back the way he had come.

Nassella raised an eyebrow and turned toward Naomi. “I was… expecting a little more from the two of you by this point,” she joked.

Naomi turned an even darker shade of pink. “Um, yes, well… there is more. We just don’t usually kiss in front of other people…”

Realizing her presence had altered their interaction, Nassella considered Naomi’s, and Cullen’s, discomfort again.

_I think Cullen almost called her love. And if she doesn’t usually go back to her own room…_

“Are you two sleeping together?” she asked, grin spreading across her face.

Naomi coughed, covering her eyes with a hand. “Um… yes. I mean, we’re not _sleeping_ together. Just… sleeping next to each other…”

Nassella laughed. “All right, I want to hear everything…”

“Where is she?!” a voice called from the stable entrance, drawing Nassella’s attention away from her questioning. She turned to see Dorian picking his way down the walkway, Bull trailing behind. “I know she couldn’t have intentionally failed to find me to say hello…”

Nassella looked at Naomi apologetically. But the woman just smiled, waving her toward the mage. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Nassella smiled fondly. “Yes, we’ll find a time, just you and me. I promise.” Then she turned to continue greeting those welcoming her back.

 

\----- 

 

Nassella stood across from Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine, the map of Thedas spread between them on the wooden table, trying not to glance toward the stack of reports and letters and requests stacked on the far corner. She knew she would be spending the next few days working through the information, making decisions and meeting with visiting nobles and dignitaries. Word of their victory at Adamant had spread, and visitors and volunteers were flocking to Skyhold in addition to the requests for aid. It was time for her to once again be the Inquisitor.

“We have been formally invited to the peace talks in Halamshiral in little over a month,” Josephine was saying. “It leaves us little time, but if you can spare time to remain in Skyhold Inquisitor, I will help you prepare.”

“Prepare?”

“It will be a complicated matter, I’m afraid,” Josephine said.

“Everything in the Empire complicates matters,” Cullen grumbled from across the table. “It’s the Orlesian national pastime.”

Nassella repressed a snort. Leliana shot a glare toward Cullen. “Turn up your nose all you like at the Grand Game, Commander, but in Orlais we play for the highest stakes, and to the death. This masquerade will be no different.” She turned her sharp gaze toward Nassella. “We must be sure you are ready if we have any hope of stopping the assassination of Empress Celene.”

Nassella swallowed. “I’ve met with nobles before Leliana. I understand politics will be involved…”

“And you have done well so far, Inquisitor,” Josephine interrupted. “But your interactions with nobles here in Skyhold will pale in comparison to the scrutiny we will receive in Halamshiral. The courts disapproval can be as great a threat as the Venatori. We must be vigilant, to avert disaster. And I am afraid we will arrive at a disadvantage because you…” she trailed off, clearly trying to choose her words more carefully.

But Nassella knew what she was going to say.

“Because I’m an elf,” she said, finishing Josephine’s thought.

Josephine sighed, giving her an apologetic glance. “Unfortunately, you will not be looked on with favor because of your heritage. That is why we must give the court no further reason to disparage our presence, or the work we are trying to do.”

Nassella glared at the table. The last thing she wanted to do was put on a show for a bunch of Orlesian nobles, to play their Game. But they had to stop this plan to assassinate the Empress. As much as she hated it, she knew they had to keep Orlais from falling into chaos. Because if they didn’t…

They had destroyed Corypheus’ demon army, but he still commanded a force large enough to conquer a weakened Orlais. And if that happened, it wouldn’t matter if someone was human, or elvish, or a dwarf… they could all be lost.

She nodded and looked up at Josephine. “I understand. I’ll do what I have to.”

A look of relief crossed Josephine’s features. “We will start tomorrow then.”

Nassella nodded, then glanced toward Leliana and Cullen. “If there is nothing else to discuss, I will see you all in the morning.”

She was nearly of the door when Leliana called her back.

“How can I help?” she asked her spymaster.

“What was she like?” Leliana asked quietly. “Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit who took her form. I read your report. I know it isn’t clear, but…”

Nassella felt her stomach twist. She hadn’t considered her time in the Fade for weeks, distracted as she was by the plight of her clan, and her own desire to forget the fear she had felt after falling through the Veil.

But the Divine had been Leliana’s friend. She could bring herself to talk about it for Leliana’s sake, even if it was painful.

Dark thoughts of the Nightmare, the uncertainty and fear she had felt, stayed with Nassella after Leliana left the war room. Their conversation had soured the mood of what she had hoped to be a relaxing and worry-free homecoming. Now, instead of celebrating their victory, the blow they had struck against Corypheus at Adamant, Nassella felt herself slipping back into doubt, remembering how close she had come to failing.

She wondered if the others were still as affected as she felt. She knew Solas had never been afraid, had found their time in the Fade interesting. But Bull had been on edge the entire time, Dorian little better. And James. Well, James had been terrified, and after regaining his memories… She knew he still had nightmares.

And thinking of the Fade, and James, reminding Nassella of something else she had realized while there.

She had considered, after opening the rift and bringing them to the Fade in the first place, that if she could do it once, she could do it again. She could open a rift into the Fade, and from there, potentially a rift to James’ world.

The thought had saddened her the first time. But now, after recognizing her feelings for James and losing her clan… the thought brought a surge of panic.

But if it was possible, they deserved her help.

She left the war room for Solas’ rotunda, needing to talk with the mage about the possibility. She found him on his scaffolding, sketching on the wall to add a new panel to his mural. Nassella took a moment to study the previous installments, from the creation of the Breach to the attack at Haven. And now he was adding the events of Adamant, a likeness of the fortress already high on the wall.

“Can I help you vhenan?” Solas asked. Nassella looked back as he put down his brushes to descend to the floor.

Nassella sighed. “I’m not sure… I have a question about my mark and the Fade.”

Solas walked toward her, bare feet softly brushing along the stones as he wiped the paint from his hands with a rag. “I will answer as best I can,” he said.

Nassella nodded, then tugged on her earlobe. “The anchor can open rifts, send people into the Fade…”

“Yes, it would appear so.”

“Well, I was wondering if it was possible it could open rifts to… other places.”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I understand…”

“James and Naomi,” Nassella clarified. “If I could open a rift into the Fade, I thought… I thought maybe it would be possible to open a rift back to their world.” Her stomach twisted. “Maybe I could send them home.”

“Ah,” Solas said, gaze turning toward the first panel in his mural, his hands placed behind his back. Nassella watched him as he thought, trying to discern what he was thinking, what he would say. But his expression was as guarded as usual.

Finally, he turned back toward her. “Naomi and James were brought here through the Fade, which means a Veil of sorts likely separates their own world from the Fade. I believe it could be possible.”

Nassella’s heart sank. “Oh…”

“But I would advise against it,” he continued.

Nassella frowned. “Why? If it’s possible, I want to help them.”

Solas furrowed his own brows. “It was only the massive energy generated by the explosion at the Conclave when you disrupted Corpheus’ ritual that allowed Naomi and James to be brought here. Entering their world would be no small feat, not to mention the unintended consequences compromising the Veil could have on their world. And you have not attempted to open a rift from within the Fade. You cannot know how such a task would affect you, or whether you would succeed.”

Nassella bit the inside of her lip and frowned. It would certainly be dangerous to enter the Fade again, not to mention her uncertainty that she could even open the Veil again. But she had done it once before, and even if it would be dangerous, she was willing to try.

“I would still try,” she said, looking into Sola’s gray eyes. “I would give them the chance to go home.”

Solas sighed. “Defeating Corypheus must take precedence over all else. You cannot afford to be distracted trying to return Naomi and James to their world. We cannot afford to lose you to such an endeavor.”

Nassella cringed inwardly at the reference to her duty. She wanted to argue, to tell him that helping her friends would always be important, that she would always take time for them. But part of her knew he was right. Her purpose had to be focused on defeating Corypheus. The world could not afford to have her killed or lost in an attempt to enter a different world.

If she survived this ordeal, the matter could be revisited. But in the meantime, James and Naomi would have to stay.

She couldn’t deny the rush of relief that spread through her at the thought.

“You’re right,” she told Solas, snaking her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his chest. “It’s not something that can be done now.”

She felt Solas place a kiss on her head. “You must also consider what Naomi and James want,” he said after a moment.

“You don’t think they would want to go back?” she asked.

“I could not say,” Solas said, “but I suspect Naomi at least would find it difficult to leave.”

_Because of Cullen…_

“And what about James?”

There was a pause before Solas answered. “I would not be surprised if he found it difficult to leave as well.”


	71. The Tavern, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I did not intend to split this chapter, but it was getting too long. My internet availability will also be spotty over the next few days, so I wanted to get something up sooner rather than later.
> 
> Anyway, mostly fluffy. Things will likely get more angsty next chapter...

James sat across from Naomi in a corner of the tavern, working his way through a third glass of ale and a second bowl of stew. He wasn’t sure what meat it contained, or even the names of all of the vegetables swimming in the broth, but he was hungry and it was the first meal he had eaten in weeks not cooked over a campfire or eaten cold from travel supplies.

He’d already relayed to Naomi the highlights of their time spent apart, successfully skimming over details of finding Nassella’s clan and downplaying the dragon fight enough to satisfy his sister that his journey had been no more dangerous than any other mission. At least, she was satisfied enough to allow their conversation to turn toward her, and her own experiences returning to Skyhold.

“I had an idea on the way back about making a microscope!” she was explaining excitedly. “They have the technology to make lenses, so Dagna should be able to put something together…”

James shook his head. “What are you going to do with a microscope?”

“Look at bacteria!” Naomi exclaimed. “And everything else that’s small! I think it would be great for people here to know what causes disease. And… well, there’s hypotheses that lyrium is alive, so I want to see if that’s true.”

James stared at his sister. A few months ago she had been afraid to tell the surgeon she should wash her hands between patients. “What happened to not wanting to change things here?”

Naomi sighed. “Well… I decided that… What if it’s wrong to _not_ push things a little? This could help people, so I don’t think… I don’t think I should just sit on this knowledge.” She shrugged. “I mean, this is our home now.”

“That’s true…” James said, looking down into his nearly empty bowl. He hadn’t exactly been worried about bringing knowledge of Earth to Thedas. He had just recognized that little of what he knew would be useful.

He was contemplating getting another serving when Nassella sat in the chair next to him, setting down her own steaming bowl of stew and tankard of ale.

“Hello you two!” she said cheerfully, reaching for her mug with her now-healed arm. “How’s the food?”

“Delicious,” Naomi said.

Nassella smiled and turned her green gaze toward him expectantly, bringing the ale to her lips to take a drink.

“It’s good,” he replied.

Nassella nodded, reaching for her spoon. “Good. I’m starving…”

She asked what they had been talking about, and Naomi launched into another impassioned explanation of her idea for a microscope, and what she would need to make the device a reality.

“So you want the telescope to look at small things?” Nassella asked, her food and ale nearly gone.

“I want the telescope to make a microscope, to look at small things,” Naomi answered.

“And this will help to fight disease?”

Naomi shrugged. “It could lead to that. It certainly won’t hurt anything to know more about the things that cause sicknesses here.”

“Well I don’t see why we couldn’t get one of these telescopes,” Nassella said, draining her glass. “I’ll admit I’m curious.”

Naomi beamed. “I really hope it works… Wait until you see everything that lives in pond water!”

Nassella laughed, then turned toward James. For a moment he was caught off-guard by her smile, by the way her large eyes narrowed and turned ever so slightly up, small crinkles marking their corners, their color a beautiful, rich green even in the dim light of the tavern. And though her lips were thin, they were just as expressive as her eyes, turning up easily into a smile when she allowed herself to relax, allowed herself moments when she didn’t have to play the part of Inquisitor.

It was a smile he had come to love over the months of travelling and fighting by her side. And at that moment, it hurt to look at it.

“What about you James?” she asked. “Do you have anything from your world that Thedas could use?”

James frowned, knowing his own skills from Earth were essentially useless in Thedas. It wasn’t as if anyone here would want to hear about God or the Bible, not to mention he himself had thought little of such things in months. And his skills and interests were limited to playing video games, board games, and watching sports…

But Nassella was still looking at him with that smile, waiting for an answer, so James said the first thing that came to mind.

“Football.”

Naomi laughed and Nassella looked at her with confusion. “What?”

Naomi shook her head. “Sorry. It’s just... I don’t think football is really the type of answer you were looking for.”

James narrowed his eyes slightly. “What’s wrong with football? It’s a great game.”

Naomi smiled at him. “Nothing’s wrong with it! I think Ness just wanted, like… I don’t know, some sort of technology or something more… useful.”

James was about to argue with his sister when Nassella put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “No, I think that’s great! I want to learn to play.”

And she was smiling at him again, leaning toward him, her beautiful eyes opened wide with excitement…

She was closer than she had been in days.

“I don’t have a football,” he said lamely.

“Make something!” Naomi said. “It doesn’t have to be perfect or anything.” She leaned over the table. “Actually, this could be really fun!”

“What could be fun?” Bull asked, appearing behind James, hands full with another round of drinks. The Qunari moved to the other side of the table and sat next to Naomi, passing the glasses around.

Nassella pulled her drink close. “James was just going to introduce us to a game from his world, after he makes a… what was it again?”

“A football,” James said, taking a long drink from his glass.

“Sounds like a good time,” Bull said with a grin. “Count me in.”

“It’s a plan then!” Nassella said excitedly, looking back toward him. “I can’t wait.”

James swallowed the lump in his throat, but smiled and nodded. “All right.” Then he took another long swig of his ale.

If he wanted to get Nassella out of his head, he was doing a poor job of it.

 

* * *

 

Naomi had waited until she was nearly twenty-one to drink alcohol. It wasn’t just that it was the law, but she had never found herself in a position where she had been offered anything to drink, giving her no choice. She’d even said, on occasion, that she wasn’t interested in drinking, claiming the ability to have fun without the assistance of alcohol.

That had changed, however, over the course of a semester abroad in the United Kingdom. She’d arrived a couple of weeks before her twenty-first birthday, and by the time she left, she had grown to enjoy sharing drinks with her friends and the way it allowed her to relax.

Still, she didn’t drink often, and could count the number of times she’d gotten drunk during grad school on one hand. She’d gotten drunk in Thedas even less.

And she had yet to drink with so many people at once. Nassella and James, Dorian and Bull, Varric, the Chargers and half of Skyhold’s populace seemed to be packed into the tavern, and the sun hadn’t even set enough to cast the sky into darkness. It was crowded, hot, and loud, and though Naomi had wanted time alone to talk to James and Nassella about her revelations concerning children, she now welcomed the chance to _not_ think about it.

She should celebrate, after all, the return of her friends and family to Skyhold. Everyone else was.

Still, she didn’t want to push herself too far, wanted to keep some control over herself and what she might say. So she declined the offer from Bull of more of his Qunari spirit, and instead raised her ale when the warrior called for a toast.

“To killing a high dragon like warriors of legend!”

Nassella hadn’t turned Bull’s drink away, and coughed in surprise after swallowing the liquid. “What is this?” she rasped, clutching at her throat.

Everyone around the table laughed, and Bull reached over to fill the elf’s glass once more. “Marass-lok!” he exclaimed.

“And what does that mean?” Nassella asked through a grin.

“It means drink!”

So she did.

“Careful,” James warned when Nassella came back up for air. “Naomi threw up in the garden after drinking that stuff.”

Naomi felt herself flush, but grinned while she held up her own drink. “Hence the ale tonight.”

James laughed, his own face flushing slightly red from his own intake. He’d switched to drinking whiskey shortly after their food was gone. “Good. I wasn’t planning on carrying you back to your room again.”

“Well thanks a lot,” Naomi joked. “Some brother you are.”

Krem, sitting next to her, laughed. “Don’t worry Naomi, I’ll steer you in the right direction if you need it.”

Naomi grinned. “I appreciate that Krem, but I don’t plan on getting quite that far gone tonight.”

Turning her attention back to the larger conversation just revealed Bull relaying the dragon fight one more time. Not exactly interested in re-hearing, again, how her loved ones had killed a beast that belonged in a Lord of the Rings movie, Naomi turned back toward Krem. She’d only talked to the mercenary a couple of times, but his easy-going nature put her at ease. The ale didn’t hurt either.

“You’re from Tevinter, right? What’s it like?”

Krem nodded. “Citizens have it rough if they’re not mages, but at least I wasn’t a slave. Mages are in charge and everyone knows it, though a wealthy merchant can have an easy life. At the low end, people just try to stay out of slavery.”

“Oh,” Naomi said. She hadn’t realized how non-mages were treated in the country. Dorian didn’t really talk about his homeland outside of his own experiences. Or really at all. “Is that why you left?”

Krem took a drink. “In the end, yes. I joined the army after my father lost his business and sold himself into slavery. But women join the ranks under a different program. They… found out I was passing, and it got ugly. It was slavery or death, so I ran.”

For a moment, Naomi didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t realized…

But it didn’t matter. Not to her. But it had clearly mattered in Tevinter.

“It’s… against the law to pass?”

“It’s a crime to lie on an Imperial application for service. I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

Naomi turned her glass slowly in a circle. “I’m sorry you had to leave like that,” she said.

“It’s all right. I met Bull near the border,” Krem said, taking another drink. Then he smiled at her. “He helped me make a good life.”

Just then Bull said loudly. “Taarsidath-an halsaam!”

Nassella giggled, leaning over the table, clearly feeling the effects of the Qunari’s spirit. “You said that during the fight. What does it mean?”

Bull laughed loudly, deep voice rumbling over the other sounds of the tavern. “Closest translation would be, ‘I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect.’”

“You shouted that while it was breathing lightning at us?!” Nassella exclaimed. She turned toward James with wide eyes, and Naomi watched her brother flush even darker.

“I know, right?!” Bull replied with another rumbling laugh. Nassella nearly fell out of her chair giggling, only saved from the floor by a quick hand from James.

Krem chuckled, then gestured toward Naomi. “What about you? Why’d you and James leave the Anderfels?”

It may have been the alcohol making her more open, or Krem’s own honesty, but Naomi really didn’t want to fabricate more lies. She caught Krem’s eye. “Can I tell you something secret?” she whispered.

Krem glanced around the table, then leaned in closer, voice pitched low. “Of course.”

“We’re not from the Anderfels.”

 

* * *

 

 

Nassella couldn’t remember the last time she had had this much fun.

It certainly hadn’t been over the last few months, preparing for and attacking Adamant, travelling across Orlais and Ferelden to find her clan.

Not since she’d been made Inquisitor after Haven was attacked.

Not since she’d woken, chained to a freezing stone floor, Cassandra and Leliana towering over her with questions and accusations.

But all of that was behind her, and she could put off until tomorrow the work left to do. Because, for this night, there was nothing for her to worry about. There was just her friends, drinks passed around, bard playing in the background…

She’d felt a little guilty at first, unsure if she should allow herself these moments of freedom from her grief. But as the alcohol took hold, as Bull launched into stories about the Chargers, as she watched her friends relax, talk easily amongst themselves around the table, those worries slipped away.

Her voice was a little too loud when she inquired after Bull’s latest anecdote, describing a job where the Chargers baited a giant. It was foolish to do such a thing…

Bull reminded her they had done the same in the Oasis.

James expressed his own amusement at the story with a laugh. Nassella had laughed with him, her head light, lips going numb.

She wondered if it had been a good idea to take Bull’s alcohol.

She decided she liked the feeling and asked for more.

James continued to drink from his own glass, and Nassella found herself staring at the movement of his throat as he swallowed, the moisture clinging to his lips that he swiped it away with his tongue.

His lips were always so soft, even after days spent in the desert…

She looked away, took another long drink.

She needed to stop looking at him.

But it was difficult. James was sitting right next to her, smiling and laughing…

He hardly ever smiled and laughed like that. She wished it didn’t take alcohol to bring it out.

And creators… he was attractive when he smiled.

She tried to focus on the others at the table. Varric told a story about his days with the Champion of Kirkwall. Krem revealed how Bull lost his eye. Dorian complained about the ale, but drank it anyway. James tried to tell a story about travelling somewhere in a flying machine, only to have the entire conversation pushed off course as everyone asked _how_ he could fly in such a thing. Naomi interjected at that point, trying, and mostly failing, to explain to the increasingly drunk table how it was done…

But Nassella couldn’t keep from looking at James.

Krem and Naomi broke off into a long conversation, their laughter frequently drifting across the table. Dorian and Varric settled a number of bets, setting just as many to replace them. Bull flirted with Dorian, and the mage didn’t exactly discourage the warrior…

Nassella talked with James, asked him about his home. They’d done so for months, but she still had questions.

What was a favorite childhood memory?

What did he love to learn about?

What exactly was football?

His answers were short at first. Climbing his first mountain. Studying maps.

But touching on the sport changed all of that. He came alive, leaned toward her, made eye contact, smiled and laughed while he described something she couldn’t yet understand…

She was convinced that he would show her how to play, if she had to make the needed football herself.

But talking with the man like that just brought them closer, and she kept staring at his full lips…

She thought she saw him doing the same.

She began to wonder what it would be like to kiss him again.

She hoped that he would.

That scared her. She stood abruptly, pausing for a moment as her head spun. With an excuse of getting more drinks she carefully wandered through the crowd, her people, dwarfed by nearly everyone in the tavern.

She shouldn’t be encouraging this. Shouldn’t be putting herself in this position.

James didn’t love her. He wouldn’t want to kiss her.

And she loved Solas. She shouldn’t want James to kiss her.

She reached the bar and ordered another round. She scanned the room to prepare herself for the return journey.

There was Sera and Dagna giggling in a corner. Cole swinging his feet while sitting on the balcony overlooking the main floor. Lace Harding chatting with a soldier by the door…

She moved, slowly making her way back through the throng.

Blackwall was sitting in her seat when she got back. Krem and Naomi had squeezed on to one chair to make room for Josephine…

Nassella distributed the drinks, joking about the Inquisitor being unseated…

Blackwall started to stand, apologizing…

She urged him back down, scanning the table for an alternative…

She saw James, and remembered how nice it had been to sit in his lap…

She knew she shouldn’t. But there wasn’t enough seats.

She sat with a laugh, throwing her arm around his neck. His hand found her hip, then quickly dropped.

He was so large. So solid.

She loved it.

James was saying something, but Nassella was too fixated on the scruff covering his jaw to hear his words.

So few elves had beards. She wondered what it would feel like to touch it.

James gently lowered her hand when she moved to find out.

Please don’t.

Right.

She shouldn’t be doing this.

James was clearly uncomfortable with her being this close.

She looked away, face flaming hot.

From across the tavern the music suddenly swelled louder. Nassella looked toward the minstrel Maryden, and the people lining up to dance.

She stood once more, catching Naomi’s eye across the table.

“Come on Naomi! Lesgo dance!”

 

* * *

 

Cullen stopped just inside the tavern door, slightly taken aback by the number of people packed into the building. The interior was dimly lit by candles and lanterns, the air warm and humid, the stench of alcohol and smoke permeating the air. It was also noisy, the rumble of conversation nearly drowning out the sound of music floating from near the center of the tavern.

His instinct was to turn around and leave, return to his office and his work, or climb the loft to his bed. Even in his youth he had never been one to join the other recruits or Templars in nights of drinking. But he was here now, because the Inquisitor has asked he come. And so had Naomi. It really was an easy thing, to make an appearance and spend more time with the woman he loved, and the others he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Though it didn’t seem easy as he awkwardly stood by the door, trying to decide where to go. It was so crowded, and though many of the faces were familiar, he couldn’t find Naomi or her brother, or any of the others he knew were here.

_I shouldn’t be here. My soldiers don’t want their Commander here while they try to celebrate. I should go…_

He heard a loud laugh he recognized, and turned his head to see the hint of horns above the crowd. After a final moment of hesitation, he moved toward Bull, hoping he would find Naomi with the warrior.

Naomi wasn’t there, but he found Dorian, Varric, and James all sitting with the Qunari.

“Commander!” Bull called when Cullen approached. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, glancing once more at the crowd. It was even warmer away from the door. “Yes, well… I nearly didn’t come.”

“Grab a seat,” Varric said, gesturing toward and empty chair. “I’m sure Naomi wouldn’t mind if you finished her ale there.”

Cullen slowly sat in the empty seat, though he did not reach for the drink. “And where is Naomi?”

Dorian laughed and pointed toward the center of the room. “Attempting to learn something I can only imagine is some variety of Ferelden stomp.”

Cullen turned toward the center of the room, where a number of people had positioned themselves into a circle, spinning and maneuvering through what he vaguely recognized from his childhood as a traditional Ferelden dance. First he saw Blackwall and Josephine on the edge of the crowd, slowly working through the movement. There was also the Inquisitor, laughing as she spun with one of the Chargers. And among them he finally found Naomi, hands joined with Krem while they moved through a far less refined version of the dance. She stumbled and Krem steadied her with a hand on her waist, both laughing as they frantically looked to the others for the next step.

“They’re not very good,” Bull observed with a chuckle.

Cullen didn’t care. Naomi’s smile never left her face, and awkward as her dancing was compared to the others, the movement of her body, her long legs accentuated by cotton breeches and the slight bounce of her breasts beneath her tunic, drew his eyes more than any missteps in her movements.

He’d thought it for many months now, but she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“If you leave your mouth open any longer, Commander, I’m afraid you’ll start drooling,” Dorian joked loudly. Startled, Cullen looked back to the table amidst a round of laughter. James frowned at his glass before taking a drink.

Face heating from embarrassment rather than the heat from the tavern, Cullen followed James’ lead and drank from the ale had had first been offered. “I don’t drool,” he said gruffly after lowering the mug. More laughter drifted across the table.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Bull said with a grin, throwing an appreciative glance toward the dance floor. Cullen resisted the urge to look back himself, which meant he caught the slight frown that crossed Dorian’s face at Bull’s words, though he quickly smoothed it out with a smile and another joke. James’ frown deepened into a scowl.

“How are you James?” Cullen asked in an attempt to save them both from more embarrassment. “You’ve been away from Skyhold for so long, I imagine it’s good to be back.”

The younger man nodded, sending his still troubled blue-green gaze toward him. “Yeah, it is. It was… a hard last couple of months.”

Cullen could imagine. The man had fought at Adamant, fallen into the Fade, been there to discover the Inquisitor’s clan, fought a dragon…

“I’m looking forward to some time to relax… unless Ness plans on heading out again.” James sighed, taking another drink. “But that’s part of… whatever this job is.” He certainly didn’t sound enthused by the possibility.

“You wouldn’t have to leave every time,” Cullen offered. “The Inquisitor knows enough of your language to write her own reports, not to mention supplementing with the code.”

James pulled his brows together. “I guess, but…” He shook his head. “I’ll go if she asks.”

Before Cullen could inquire further, the object of their conversation appeared at the table in a flurry of laughter, reaching for James’ arm and attempting to tug the much larger man out of his seat.

“Comeon James!” Nassella exclaimed, straining to pull the man to standing. “Naomi’s gonna showus a dance fromyerhome…”

“What?” James asked, flustered and struggling to find his feet. “What dance?”

“She sai’ is from… the Neverlans!”

And then Naomi was at Cullen’s side, face flushed red and shiny with sweat, teeth shining white in the dim light as she continued to smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder and beamed.

“I’m soglad you came!” she exclaimed, speech slightly slurred. Cullen smiled at her excitement.

“What the heck Naomi?” James asked, sitting back down. “What dance…?”

“Jus oneofthe ones Oma and Opa taught us whenwe were kids,” she said. “One a those oldones from the Netherlands.”

“That’s… shouldn’t you teach them some like… more modern dance?”

Naomi laughed. “Like wha’?”

James scratched his head. “I don’t know, like…”

“The moonwalk? Swing dancing? Electric slide? I can’ do anyo’that. Or this?” she asked, removing her hand and backing up a step. Cullen turned in time to watch her dive into a series of what he supposed were dance moves, though it was unlike any dance he had ever seen. She just stood there, eyes closed while she shook and twisted her hips, accentuated by random gestures from her arms, breasts once again shifting beneath her tunic while she moved. She turned, presenting her still shaking ass to the table, and ended her dance with her hands on her hips and head cocked slightly the side while she grinned at everyone gathered.

It had only lasted a few seconds, but Cullen found he had to close his mouth once more.

“God you suck at dancing,” James said, laughing.

“I thought it was fine,” Bull said with his own chuckle.

Naomi laughed back. “I know Isuck! An’ there’sno moves to teach, so…”

“Comon!” Nassella said again, leaning toward James. “I needyou to teachme!”

James took a deep breath, then nodded, draining his glass. “All right, let’s go.”

Naomi’s hand was back on his shoulder. “Wanna learn too?” she asked.

Part of Cullen wanted to say yes, to share with Naomi this part of her home. But a far larger part reminded him that he did not dance. And parts lower down reminded him that he was perhaps a little too excited to join her on the floor, knowing that if this dance was anything like what she had just demonstrated, with swiveling and thrusting hips… he would have a problem.

“I don’t dance…” he said slowly.

He immediately regretted his answer when Naomi’s smile fell. But Krem was there an instant later, linking his arm with hers.

“I’ll learn.”

Her smile was back, and then she was gone, following the others to the floor.

Cullen sank into his chair.

“Missed an opportunity there Curly,” Varric said.

“I know,” Cullen grumbled, reaching once more for his drink. His mistake became even more obvious when James and Naomi proceeded to demonstrate their dance, a series of shuffles and kicks performed standing in two lines opposite their partners, only coming together when joining hands and turning in a circle. Surely he could have managed such a dance…

“So Cullen, what’s new around here?” Bull asked, drawing Cullen’s attention from the sight of Naomi laughing and dancing with another man. “I imagine things have moved forward since we were all last here in Skyhold.”

“Oh yes,” Dorian said, raising his glass and smirking across the table at Cullen. “Things have _certainly_ moved forward. Progressed quite nicely in fact…”

“I don’t think Tiny was asking about Freckles,” Varric said through a chuckle.

Nervous about the way this conversation seemed to be turning, Cullen quickly jumped into a report on the state of the Inquisition for the Qunari warrior. He got enough questions about the state of his relationship with Naomi from Josephine and Leliana, the last thing he needed was questions from Dorian and Bull.

“We’ve received a flood of support after our victory at Adamant…”


	72. The Tavern, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my bad luck with tires means you all get good luck, and this chapter probably a week earlier, because I can't drive out into the boondocks with no internet for data collection. :D
> 
> Anyway... enjoy.

“You messed up again.”

“Di’not!”

“I saw you!” James exclaimed. “It’s four steps then a kick, not three.”

Nassella wrinkled her nose, settling her hands more firmly on her hips. “I di’ that…” she mumbled.

James grinned. “All right, let’s try again. Step together, step together, step together, step, kick…” Nassella followed him through the movements, brow furrowed in concentration. “Now step, behind, step, kick…” Nassella stumbled and he grabbed her arm to steady her. She straightened herself with a laugh.

“Why’s thisso complicated!” she whined.

James laughed. “It’s not. You’re just drunk.”

“Am no’!”

“You’ve had at least four shots of Bull’s spirit. Plus whatever you had at dinner.”

“You’ve ha’whissskey!”

“I’m also twice your size.”

“Is no’ fair. I can’ helpbeing small…” she pouted.

James couldn’t help but laugh again. “I know, I know. Come on, let’s try again. Just focus…”

They went once more through the steps, Nassella’s eyes fixed intently on his feet the entire time. When he was confident she could manage at least most of the movements, he caught Naomi’s eye and nodded. Krem had already picked up the dance with little problem, so once Nassella stopped giggling enough to focus, they were able to start. A number of others had observed his and his sister’s teaching, so a decent crowd was there to join in.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was fun, though James suspected that was largely because of the whiskey he had been drinking, and the laughing woman across from him. Despite his teaching, Nassella missed every other step, but she smiled the entire time, and the grip she had when they joined hands sent his heart racing.

Though looking at her was enough to do that, with her flushed cheeks and flyaway hairs, her smile and the way her slight curves were accentuated by the hands placed on her hips…

James knew it was a bad idea, to be dancing with Nassella like this. He was supposed to be letting her go, not reminding himself of how much he loved her. But she had been so excited to learn. He couldn’t say no.

And seeing how happy she was made him glad he hadn’t. For once they weren’t fighting or travelling or grieving. Painful as it was, he tried to be happy, because for the first time in weeks Nassella was happy.

They ended their dance with bows and curtsies and laughter, and then Nassella’s arms were around his neck. James stood in surprise, thinking Nassella would release him. Instead she clung tighter, and he wrapped his arms around her body in case she fell. He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and took a deep breath to cool the shock of heat that had accompanied finding Nassella’s body pressed against his.

He remembered how she had sat on his lap and thrown her arms around his neck earlier. It was not something he had expected from her, and certainly not something he should encourage…

Or enjoy.

Just like he shouldn’t enjoy this hug.

Part of him wished she wasn’t so friendly, so affectionate toward everyone she knew. She didn’t know how it made him feel. How much it hurt to just be her friend.

“All right, all right,” he said lightly, patting her shoulder. “It wasn’t that fun…”

She laughed in his ear and squeezed tighter. “Course itwas!” I love dancin’ wi’you…”

It was so close to what he wanted to her from her lips.

He wanted to say it back, but feared that if he mentioned love, he would forget to conclude with the dancing.

“So do I,” he said instead, lowering her gently down.

Her feet on solid ground, Nassella pulled away and smiled at him. But when their eyes met her smile faltered slightly, her eyes dropping to his lips like they had been doing the entire night. James didn’t know what to make of it, her behavior. If she were any other woman, a woman who wasn’t in love with someone else, in love with an elf, he would think she was flirting…

But that wasn’t possible.

James cleared his throat and carefully extracted her arms from his body, careful to keep his eyes turned away. He couldn’t keep doing this…

“An’ there you have it!” Naomi exclaimed from next to Nassella, her hands still on her hips. “A genuine Earth dance! A couple hundred yearssold, but still…”

“Do you have anyotherssS?” Nassella asked, her eyes turned toward his sister.

“They taught us one other. You remember James?” At his nod she continued. “He’ll teachya. I gotta cool off,” she said, fanning her face and wandering toward the table with Krem in tow.

James looked back to Nassella. She was rubbing an earlobe between her fingers, but looked up at him with a smile. “Teach me?” she asked quietly.

James forced a smile, offering her a hand. “Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen drank his ale and talked to Bull, trying not to regret his decision to stay at the table and resisting the urge to look toward Naomi dancing with Krem. He wasn’t exactly jealous, but he envied Krem and his proximity to Naomi. Cullen had come here to spend time with her, and he was utterly failing at that task. He might as well have stayed in his office, if all he was going to do was sit here while she enjoyed herself with others.

He had nearly finished his second mug of ale when Bull suddenly trailed off talking, a smirk curling up the corners of his mouth while he looked toward the dancing. Cullen turned in time to see James lower the Inquisitor to the ground from an embrace, their eyes locking for an extended moment. Even Cullen recognized the tension in their interaction.

Confused, he turned to Bull. “Isn’t the Inquisitor seeing Solas?”

Bull’s smirk grew. “Yes.”

Cullen glanced toward Varric and Dorian, but they were both distracted by their own conversation. He looked back to the dancers, but James was standing once more and the moment between him and the Inquisitor had passed. But any follow-up questions were lost when Naomi broke away and walked toward their table. He sat up straighter.

Naomi reached them slightly out of breath and grinning. “Well that was fun!” she exclaimed. Then her eyes flashed to her now empty mug. “Who drank my ale?”

“Ask your boyfriend,” Bull rumbled with a chuckle.

Naomi giggled, her eyes darting toward Cullen’s, making his face blush even more, in addition to the heat from the surrounding air and his alcohol intake.

“What’s so funny?” Bull asked.

Naomi shook her head. “Just… hearing you say boyfriend…” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I was gonna go outside if anyone wanted to come…”

“I will,” Cullen said, standing from his seat. A number of chuckles rumbled from around the table. Cullen flushed even more.

“Great!” Naomi exclaimed, reaching for his hand. “Anyone else?”

Krem slapped a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “No, I think the Commander wants some time alone with you.” More laughs.

“Yes, well…” Cullen said, pulling Naomi toward the door amidst her own giggles.

_Maker’s breath..._

Once outside, however, he took a deep breath, comforted by the feel of a crisp breeze on his face. “I needed this,” he murmured.

Naomi squeezed his hand, pulling him closer. “I know, it’s pretty hot in there.” She guided them to the side of the tavern where she reclined against the stones. Cullen followed suit, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall. Nice as it was to be next to Naomi, he wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to return to the overcrowded building again.

But then she rested her head on his shoulder, and he wasn’t so sure he would want to leave her.

“I’m glad you came,” she murmured softly, her fingers interlocking more firmly with his.

“I wanted to see you,” he replied. Her grip tightened and she sighed.

“That’s sweet.” Then she yawned.

They passed a moment in silence, the sounds of music and conversation drifting through an open window. Cullen remembered how Naomi had danced, once again regretting he had not joined her.

“That dance… it was from your home?”

She sighed again. “Kind of. It’s from the country where my father was born. His parents moved to the United States when he was little, but they showed us some things their grandparents taught them, like dancing… and how to make food…”

Cullen could hear the sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t join you.”

She lifted her head and he turned to see her looking at him, the green in her eyes standing out even in the dark. He realized it was always like that, the color visible no matter the lighting, even if it was subtle. “It’s all right. I normally don’t do things like that either.”

He reached for her face, running a thumb gently along her cheek. “All the same…”

Her kiss caught him off guard, lips capturing his with a sigh. She brought her hand to his neck, pulling their bodies closer together. Cullen considered he shouldn’t, that she had been drinking, and so had he, but he was starved for her touch after the last few days, waiting for her to kiss him like this after her nightmares. He gripped her tighter, adjusting to take her full bottom lip between his, angling his own body better toward hers. But when she released her grip on his hand to bring her own around his back, inching lower with each passing second, he pulled away with a deep breath.

“Naomi…”

“Cullen, I’m not going to go my entire life not kissing you after having a little alcohol.”

_Entire life…_

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and she reached once more for his backside, pulling at him until her back was against the wall. He gasped, pushing against her until he was straddling one of her legs, heat building in his stomach and cock starting to harden at the friction. He rolled his hips against her, moaning slightly at the pleasure that coursed through him, only building when her grip tightened and she gasped herself, giving him better access to every curve and ridge of her mouth, just as he set to re-exploring the curves of her body.

Her hands pushed below his tunic, fingers playing lightly across the muscles of his lower back. “I love it when you take your armor off…” she breathed into their kiss.

“So do I,” he growled with another thrust of his hips, her breasts pressed against his chest. She moaned softly.

He would never be able to get enough of her, of the sounds she made when he touched her, of the heat and pleasure she could draw from his body. And it was only the beginning. There was so much more they could yet do…

A whistle pierced through the night, followed by a call of “Get a room over there!”

Cullen pulled back, startled and gasping for breath. He looked at Naomi, her eyes opened wide, mouth agape as she caught her own breath. He turned toward the man who had yelled, finding him across the yard laughing and being pulled away by a companion.

He realized that they likely didn’t know who he was, obscured by shadows as he and Naomi were, but still, it would certainly not be appropriate for the Commander of the Inquisition to be discovered so intimately entwined outside the tavern late at night…

“Maker’s breath,” he muttered, pulling himself away from Naomi’s body. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to calm his arousal. “This is not something I normally do.”

“Me either,” Naomi said next to him. He opened an eye to find her own eyes covered with a hand, chest rising and falling from her still elevated breathing, lips parted enticingly. She was so beautiful, and despite what had just happened, he just wanted to kiss her again.

But then she lowered her hand and pushed away from the wall, walking past him with barely a glance. It took a moment for him to process her abrupt departure, but when he realized she really intended to leave, he quickly caught up with her, reaching for her arm.

“Naomi… was that too much?” He asked, afraid he had gone too far. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

She shook her head, taking his hand in hers. “It’s not that Cullen. I just need to, um… think, and…” She shook her head and once more pulled away, walking more purposefully toward the tavern. He followed, unsure why she was so suddenly upset, and why she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. It had been like that for days, ever since her nightmare. It was starting to frustrate him, her distance. He wanted to help her, but if she wouldn’t reveal her troubles…

They re-entered the tavern, the heat and noise hitting him like a wave. Naomi slipped through the crowd, and Cullen struggled to follow her through the crowd. And then he saw the Inquisitor run up to her, say something with urgency, then pull her toward the stairs.

She was gone, and Cullen was left confused and worried with no way to fix whatever was wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a mistake. A mistake to find herself alone with Cullen when she had been drinking so much. A mistake to kiss him. A mistake to _keep_ kissing him, to encourage him like that…

Naomi knew that the moment he had pulled away, when she had been shocked from her haze of arousal by the catcalls from across the yard. There was a reason she had tried to minimize such interactions over the last few days. She still needed to talk to him about the future. _Their_ future. The fact that it wouldn’t include children. And the chances that they wouldn’t _have_ a future together because of that, meant she shouldn’t be encouraging kissing like that…

She needed to get away from him, to collect her thoughts, before she said something she shouldn’t.

And then Nassella ran up to her, eyes wide and hair flying out of its ties, a bottle clasped in her hand.

“Com’on Naomi! Lessgo drinkthisssomewhere an’talk…”

Naomi let herself be pulled to the stairs by the elf, led to Sera’s small room on the second floor. Nassella closed the door behind them and plopped down on the cushions, taking a drink from the bottle before offering it to Naomi. Naomi took the drink, resigning herself to getting drunker than she had originally intended.

She nearly spat the alcohol out, recognizing Bull’s spirit. “Ness… not this stuff…”

“Isno’ so bad,” Nassella said. “Jussdrink it.”

Naomi sighed, but took another shot before sinking down among the pillows herself. “Won’t Sera want her room?”

Nassella giggled. “No… Isaw her leavewith Dagna…”

“Oh…”

Nassella leaned toward Naomi, chin on her hand. “Tell me ‘bout you’nCullen,” she said through a grin.

Naomi sighed, reclining back on the cushions, feeling the effects of Bull’s alcohol already. Whatever it was, the spirit was potent.

But she told her friend everything, from going to Cullen as they travelled because she was afraid to sleep alone, to realizing they loved each other, to the progression of their intimacy…

To what had just transpired outside the tavern.

Her lips were numb by the end, her speech certainly more slurred. But she sat up to drink again, before falling to the floor.

“I’mso happyferyou,” Nassella mumbled, snuggling against Naomi’s body. But Naomi was on the verge of tears. Even though she had wanted to have fun tonight, she couldn’t keep her worries to herself any longer.

“But Ness… Irealized… Wecan’t ha’kids…”

Nassella sat up, looking into her eyes with a deep frown. “Wha’? Why?”

Naomi squeezed her eyes shut. “’Cause we’reno’ fromthe… sssame place. We won’… matchup.”

“I don’… unerstan’… You’ll fittogether…”

“No’ like that!” Naomi exclaimed. “At a… ssssmaller level… A genetic level.” She knew Nassella wouldn’t understand.

“Naomi…”

“It won’work Ness!” Naomi exclaimed, starting to cry. “And he’ll wan’ kidssss…. And he’ll breakup withme….”

Nassella’s arms were around her, squeezing her tight. “Naomi…” she murmured. “Hewon’t! He lovesssyou…”

“But…”

“No!” her friend exclaimed, sitting up to take Naomi’s face in her hands, staring straight into her eyes. Naomi froze, unsure what to do with finding Nassella so close. “He lovesss you sooo much. He won’leave…”

Naomi sniffed. She wanted to believe Nassella, but she couldn’t see how this wouldn’t be the end.

“Maybe…” she mumbled. She couldn’t talk about this anymore. Not in this state.

Nassella released her face, once more wrapping her arms around Naomi’s body. “Wha’ ‘bout you?” Naomi asked. “How’sssSolas?”

Nassella’s grip tightened, and she took several seconds to answer. “I think… I… mademistake…” she finally whispered.

“What’ya mean?”

Another several seconds. “Jamesss kissed me.”

That surprised her, and Naomi tried to sit up to look at Nassella. “He did? Tonigh’?”

_James wouldn’t… he knows she’s with Solas…_

Nassella vigorously shook her head, buried in Naomi’s shoulder. “Months’go. An’I told him no. Bu’now…” she trailed off.

Naomi took a moment to process the new information. She remembered thinking James might have a crush on Nassella at one point, but she’d thought that had passed…

“Bu’I loveSolasss!” Nassella suddenly yelled, looking to Naomi desperately. “I’ms’posed to be wi’him…”

Naomi frowned. She could see her friend was conflicted, but her head was light, dizzy even while lying down. And she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that Nassella liked her brother…

But she remembered earlier, when they were dancing. James and Nassella had hugged, looked at each other for a moment too long…

James still liked Nassella too, and it probably wouldn’t take much for those feelings to develop into more.

“Ness… youcan changeyer mind…”

Nassella shook her head again. “No. I shouldn’. Jamesdoesn’t wan’me…”

“He… might,” Naomi said slowly.

Nessella’s hands were back on her face, eyes looking into Naomi’s suspiciously. “Don’lie…”

“I’m not,” Naomi said, more of their interactions coming back to mind, signs that there was more between her brother and her friend than she had realized. “I think hewould…”

Nassella’s lip started to tremble. “Really?”

Naomi smiled. “Yeah.”

And then Nassella was crying, head once more buried in her clothes. “Idon’ know wha’todo!”

Naomi patted her friend’s shoulder. “Nothin’ tonight,” she said quietly. “Yer too drunk.”

Nassella nodded. “All righ’…”

Naomi pulled the elf a little closer. “Don’worry,” she murmured, trying to calm Nassella down, not that she had any experience in this sort of thing. She’d never been seriously attracted to more than one person at a time. “It’llworkou’…”

 

* * *

 

James watched Nassella disappear with his sister, slightly relieved to see her go. It was getting exhausting to hold himself back, to keep from saying everything he wanted to her. Especially after they continued to dance. His body couldn’t ignore how attractive she was when she moved, how beautiful he found her, and he had to fight to keep his responses in check.

This night had been an utter failure when it came to moving past her. If anything he wanted her more.

Cullen joined him and Bull at the table a moment after Nassella left, brows pulled together in a frown.

“What’s wrong Cullen?” Bull asked. “Surely it didn’t go that bad out there.”

James clenched his jaw. He wished it didn’t bother him so much, to hear others talk about Naomi and Cullen together. He knew it was happening, would likely continue to happen. It was entirely normal for his sister to seek a relationship. He wanted one as well…

But he would never have one if he only wished and hoped for something he couldn’t have.

“No, it was… fine,” Cullen said in response, simple and vague. James had to appreciate Cullen’s discretion when it came to his sister. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about hearing details of their intimate dealings from the other man.

“Don’t know why you’re frowning then.”

Cullen’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Naomi left rather abruptly after our… talk. She wouldn’t say why…” He glanced toward the stairs, brows still pulled together in concern.

“She’ll let you know what’s bothering her, when she’s ready,” Bull said.

“She’ll probably just figure it out on her own,” James added. “It’s usually nothing anyway.” Naomi should certainly have less to worry about than himself anyway.

Cullen still looked worried, but he nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Now James,” Bull said, turning his gaze from Cullen. “I believe I promised you a lesson on picking up women, now that we’re back…”

Cullen let out a cough and James’ face began to heat. He’d nearly forgotten about that conversation, the day before killing the dragon…

He’d agreed because he wanted to get over Nassella. And while that was still true, he wasn’t sure that would be the best way.

“That’s not necessary,” James said, glad Varric and Dorian had left to get more to drink. “I don’t need that…”

“Because you already know who you want?” Bull asked, lips pulled up in a knowing smirk.

James clenched a fist beneath the table. Of course. Of course he hadn’t hidden his feelings well enough. Especially from Bull. He was a spy for the Qunari after all… or at least he used to be.

“No,” James said slowly. “Because I don’t need to pick up women. I don’t need…”

“Sex?”

James took a deep breath. “Right. I don’t need sex.”

Bull sat back and crossed his arms. “But you want it.” It wasn’t a question.

“So?” James asked. “It’s not about wanting it…”

“Then what?” Bull asked. “I don’t get you. Even Ferelden’s aren’t this uptight about sex.”

James glanced toward Cullen, the man looking decidedly uncomfortable, eyes locked on the table.

“It’s just what… what I believe!” James said, growing defensive. “That you shouldn’t have sex until… until marriage…”

Except… he didn’t believe that. Not anymore. If Nassella asked… he wouldn’t hesitate…

Bull snorted. “Really? Cullen, is that what Naomi thinks?”

Cullen looked at the Qunari with wide eyes. “What? Um…” He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze once more. “No,” he finally mumbled. “That is not her intention.”

Great. They were back to talking about his sister’s sex life.

Bull looked back to James. “And I don’t think you believe that either.”

James crossed his arms, glaring at the larger man. “What’s your deal Bull? It’s not really your business, what I do.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out,” Bull said, waving a hand. “You seem lonely… and not exactly happy.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I can tell.”

James scowled. “And you think you know what I can do about that?”

Bull shrugged. “I have an idea.”

James let out a long breath through his nose. “Well, what is it then?” Anything to get past this conversation.

Bull unfolded his arms and leaned across the table. His single green eye turned crinkled slightly with a smile. “Tell the Boss how you feel.”

James felt his heart skip a beat, then rapidly increase its pace.

Damn Bull and his spy training.

“There’s nothing to tell her,” James said, voice growing thick. Bull raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. James stood his ground. “And she obviously wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Come on James,” Bull said, frustrated. “She’s been all over you tonight…”

“She’s drunk.”

“And back in the forest? She went to you first after we found her clan…”

Yes, she’d come to him first. And attacked him. Looked at him like she hated him.

“So she could yell at me,” James said through the emotion starting to close his throat. “She doesn’t want to be with a human, and she _shouldn’t_ be with a human.” He swallowed. “Solas is good for her.”

“If you say so,” Bull grumbled, sitting back against his chair.

Loud voices approached marking the return of Dorian and Varric. Entirely uninterested in being harassed further, James left the table, not bothering to say goodbye to Bull or the others. He considered leaving the tavern entirely. But he also wanted to drink more.

An empty seat at the bar made the decision for him, so James sat and ordered more whiskey.

He stewed over Bull’s words, what the other man had encouraged him to do. He supposed it was too much to hope that his interest in Nassella would go unnoticed. He only hoped it would continue to go unnoticed by her. He’d promised her he would move on…

Which he hadn’t done. But he didn’t know what else he could do. He couldn’t stop fighting and travelling with her. His desire to stop Corypheus overshadowed the discomfort of being with her. He’d tried to find someone else…

And that had failed because of sex. Because he had been unwilling to have it. But Bull was at least right about some things. He was no longer unwilling… to a point. But Mayra wouldn’t want him back…

On a hunch, James glanced around the tavern. She enjoyed coming here as well…

And there she was, sitting at a table alone, her long black hair bound in a braid down her back, dress cut low across her chest.

James hesitated only a moment, then stood with his drink.

“Hey Mayra,” he said when he reached her table. She looked up at him, blue eyes wide in surprise.

“Oh… hello James…”

“Mind if I sit?”

She frowned slightly, but nodded. “Sure…”

He joined her, taking a drink of from his glass. He wasn’t entirely sure what he hoped to accomplish…

“I’m… glad to see you returned here safely,” Mayra said quietly after a moment of silence. “I… heard what happened at Adamant, with the Fade…”

James took another drink, suppressing the fear that had accompanied her mention of the battle. “Yeah… I’m glad too.” He met her eyes. “How were things here?”

She shrugged. “Easier. There were a lot less people to cook for.” James’ laugh surprised him, but Mayra grinned slightly.

“Are you here alone?” he asked.

She grimaced slightly, her eyes shifting to a spot across the room. “I didn’t come alone. But apparently my date prefers blondes…”

James looked over his shoulder to see an entirely intoxicated man laughing at a different table, arms clutching the waists of two equally drunk women. He frowned and turned back to Mayra. “Well, he’s an idiot.”

Mayra smiled a little broader. “Thanks.”

“Can I get you something?”

Mayra’s smile dropped. “James…” she said slowly. “I’m… happy to see you, but I haven’t really changed my mind.”

It was time. This was his chance to take a step toward something, away from Nassella and closer to the sort of relationship he could actually have. Toward a woman he could actually have.

He didn’t love Mayra. Mayra didn’t love him. But he still liked her. He wasn’t as attracted to her as he was to Nassella, but he found her pleasing enough.

It could work.

And with time… maybe things would change. It could turn into more.

There was only one way to find out.

“I know,” he said. “But I have.”

He had to. If he was ever going to be happy.

Mayra sat up straighter, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Really?”

James nodded. Smiled. “Yes.” He leaned forward. “So… can I get you something?”

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen didn’t know why he stayed in the tavern. He should return to his room. But Naomi’s departure still worried him, and he wanted to make sure she was all right. So he stayed at the table, waiting for her to reappear with the Inquisitor.

He hadn’t anticipated witnessing the argument between James and Bull, for Bull to so blatantly encourage the other man to profess his feelings for the Inquisitor. James had denied such feelings, but Cullen wasn’t entirely convinced. Bull certainly wasn’t.

But after James stormed away Bull dropped the subject. Varric left once he finished his final drink, and then Bull and Dorian turned to their own series of arguments… uncomfortably sexual in nature.

So Cullen sat as far away from them as he could, observing the tavern and waiting for Naomi. Minutes passed without her return, the tavern began to clear, and Cullen watched as James approached a woman sitting alone at a table. He bought them drinks. Then another round, shifting to sit next to her. Cullen supposed Bull had been mistaken about who James had feelings for…

Bull and Dorian left together.

He sat uncomfortably for several minutes.

And then Naomi finally appeared, slowly guiding herself down the stairs. Cullen stood and approached her quickly, noting the unfocused quality to her gaze when she noticed him.

“Cullen…” she said quietly. “Yerstill here?”

He reached for her hand, one that she took. “I was worried about you.” He noticed the Inquisitor was not with her. “Where is the Inquisitor?”

“Oh…” she whispered, head tilting slightly to the side. “Well… I’m… fine. An’Nesss said… she wascomin’.”

“Let me take you back to your room,” Cullen said, trusting the Inquisitor would be safe.

Naomi nodded slowly. “Goo’idea… Nessss brough’Bull’ssstuff.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder while they walked slowly through the castle. It wasn’t until they approached her room that Cullen said anything. He knew it wasn’t the best time, but he had to know if she was still upset.

“Naomi?” he asked quietly.

“Mmmm?”

“What upset you so much earlier?”

She shook her head. “Can’say.”

“Naomi, you can talk to me.”

“Iknow.”

“Then…”

She sniffed. “I’mssscared.”

He reached her door and opened it, leading her inside. “You don’t have to be. Not with me.”

She pulled away and sat heavily on the bed, pulling her shoes clumsily from her feet. But she said nothing, so Cullen resigned himself to getting no further answers from her. Hopefully in the morning, after she had sobered, she would be more open. She removed her tunic, leaving her breastband, then began to crawl under her blankets.

Cullen moved toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning…”

“Don’leave!” Naomi called, sitting up with a sway, reaching toward him. “Please…”

“All right, all right,” Cullen said, removing his own shoes and tunic. He joined her under the blankets, drawing her against his side. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave.”

Naomi sniffed, and clutched at him, starting to cry. Utterly confused, Cullen started to sit up. She gripped him tighter.

“Bu’you will…” she mumbled.

Cullen paused, gut clenching. “Why do you think that?” She said nothing. Fed up with her cryptic comments and answers, needing to know why she thought he would leave her, he sat up and reached for her face. “Naomi,” he said sternly. She opened her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Her lip trembled, and he could tell she was afraid. “’Cause Ican’t havechildren,” she whispered. Then she broke down into sobs. Shocked, Cullen could only watch her for a moment as she buried her head in a pillow and cried.

_She… can’t have children…_

Which meant he couldn’t have children.

And she thought he would leave her for it.

Realizing Naomi was still crying, Cullen dropped back to the bed, pulling her into his arms. She cried until she fell asleep, exhausted from the night’s events.

It took Cullen much longer to do the same, as he thought about what Naomi had revealed. There was certainly some disappointment. He’d… started to entertain the prospect of children. Someday. Something he’d thought he would never have that now seemed a possibility. But it wasn’t a necessity. At least… he didn’t think it would be.

One thing he knew with certainty. Leaving Naomi hurt more than the thought of being childless.

 

* * *

 

 

Nassella laid for a moment among Sera’s cushions after Naomi left.

She needed to think. Alone. Even if she was drunk.

If James might… want her too… it changed things.

_I have a choice._

But what should she choose? Who? Was it worth leaving Solas for James?

She frowned as she thought, trying to focus through her haze.

_They both fight with me. Protect me._

_They both comfort me. Interest me._

_I’m attracted to both of them…_

She squirmed slightly. James… perhaps had a leg up in that regard.

_But that doesn’t matter._

Children. That might matter.

If Naomi couldn’t have children, then neither could James.

Nassella wouldn’t be able to have children with James.

_I want children._

But she couldn’t have them now. Perhaps never. The Inquisitor shouldn’t have children.

_But I won’t be the Inquisitor forever._

Maybe.

And Solas didn’t seem keen on having children.

And she wasn't convinced Naomi was right.

Nassella rubbed her head. Children shouldn’t matter either.

_There are other ways to have children._

It was impossible.

She knew Naomi was right. She shouldn’t do this while she was drunk, coming down from a night in the tavern…

She remembered dancing with James, how fun it had been…

She frowned.

_Fun._

_I have fun with James._

Solas hadn’t come to the tavern. Even Cullen had come to spend time with Naomi.

Solas never spent time with Nassella and her friends like this. They spent time together alone.

Which was fine. To an extent.

Nassella sat up suddenly, head spinning from the movement. Maybe it wasn’t impossible after all.

She would still have to wait for the morning.

But her heart was racing. She no longer felt quite so unsure.

She stumbled from Sera’s room, a thought crossing her mind that the Inquisitor shouldn’t be seen so drunk.

She carefully descended the stairs, eyes focused on her feet, on keeping from falling.

Her friends were no longer at their table. Disappointed, she approached anyway and took a seat.

She hadn’t realized how long she’d stayed upstairs.

She glanced around the tavern, at the few people left.

She saw James.

With his face pressed to another woman’s, his hand buried in her black hair, his lips pulling on hers…

Nassella felt sick. Like she had been punched. She couldn’t breathe.

And she was angry.

Naomi had lied to her.

James didn’t want her.

She closed her eyes, hands clenched into fists.

_He doesn’t want me._

She felt herself beginning to cry.

She didn’t know why. It’s what she’d known all along.

She opened her eyes.

Tortured herself by looking back.

James had pulled away. Nassella realized the woman was… Meera? Myra?

The other woman smiled, then drew James’ ear to her lips.

Nassella could see James flush. Then he nodded, kissing her again.

They stood. James led them out the door.

Then they were gone.

Nassella couldn’t move.

Her heart shouldn’t feel like this. Like someone was squeezing it. Twisting it. Trying to pull it from her chest.

James wasn’t hers.

_He’s not mine._

_He can be with whoever he wants._

_And he doesn’t want me._

She swallowed her tears. Stood.

_And I don’t want him._

She shuffled toward the door.

_I want Solas._


	73. In the Morning

_James was running._

_He was always running here._

_And terrified._

_It was dark, foggy. He couldn’t see more than twenty feet ahead, craggy rocks appearing from the mist, underfoot._

_And the sounds. The soft skittering of hundreds of thin, hard legs scrambling over the same stones, always just behind, no matter how fast he ran. It made his skin crawl, his head pound, his heart race…_

_Suddenly, the ground ended, empty air filling the space ahead. James skidding to a halt, nearly losing his balance and falling into the abyss. He turned to continue his dash along the cliff’s edge. But his legs felt leaden, his feet wouldn’t move like he wanted…_

_Ahead, a figure appeared out of the mist. As he slowly drew nearer, James realized he recognized the tall, thin boy standing dangerously close to the edge. He tried to move faster, so he could pull his brother away…_

_He couldn’t reach him in time, and was powerless when David slipped, pushed into the swirling mist by some invisible force._

_“No!” James yelled, finally reaching the spot where David had been standing._

_But it was too late._

_He was always too late._

_James had to keep running. He could still hear those legs approaching, still incessantly moving toward him across the stones. The sound was maddening, pounding ever louder in his head. He couldn’t leave it behind…_

_There. Ahead of him. The walls were closing in, drawing together, leaving only a single thin crevice to squeeze through. With a final dash he reached the canyon, angling his body so he could enter, shimmying his body against the rough stone. The sound of the legs was deafening. He burst from the crack in the stones…_

_And there in front of him were his parents._

_Screaming._

_Burning._

_Dying._

_And the Nightmare, looming large behind them, filling his vision, its hundreds of eyes glinting and boring into him, whispering his failures in his ear…_

James woke with a gasp, entire body drenched in sweat, his limbs tense and shaking. Heart racing with panic he sat up, casting his eyes and hands around for his sword, a knife, anything he could use as a weapon.

But there was nothing. Only some sacks piled in a corner, boxes in another. He wasn’t even in a tent, in his bedroll. He was in some sort of room, small, barely larger than a closet…

“James?”

He turned with a shout, hands clenched into fists, ready to strike. But instead of a demon, a fearling, some other enemy, there was a woman. A naked woman, exposed from the waist up, her dark hair framing her shadowed face.

Even in the near darkness, he finally recognized her. Where he was.

_Mayra._

Memories from the previous night… earlier in the night, came rushing back. Leaving the tavern unsteady from drink, stumbling to the kitchens, to Mayra’s small room that doubled as storage, kissing her, touching her, her own hands wandering over his body, below his clothing, r _emoving_ his clothing…

He hadn’t stopped her, and by the time they fell to the floor, to her bedroll, he hadn’t _wanted_ to stop…

It had been wandering hands, wandering lips from then on. James had touched women before, touched Makenzie before. Everywhere. But never like that. Never entirely exposed, his naked body flush with another, ears filled with the wet sounds of lips and tongue, heavy breaths and throaty moans, Mayra whispering _Yes!_ and _More! a_ nd _I need you,_ as he worked his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

He hadn’t lasted long when he finally entered her. He hadn’t known what to expect. It was nothing like when he brought himself to release, the way Mayra took him, the heat and wet and f _riction_ that entirely encompassed his cock as he moved in her…

In the dark, he imagined it was Nassella beneath him when he came.

Remembering now, James wasn’t proud of it. At least he’d had the decency to help her finish, slipping a hand between them until she cried out, hips thrusting into his. He’d extracted himself then, and collapsed at her side, his nose filled with the stench of alcohol and sweat and sex…

He must have fallen asleep soon after. And now he had woken from yet another nightmare, and almost attacked Mayra when he did.

Something else for him to be ashamed of.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, rubbing a hand through his hair, through his scruff, working the last remnants of sleep from his mind. “I was just… dreaming.”

“It seemed like more than that,” she said quietly.

Yes. It was much more than that.

But James didn’t want to talk about it. And he no longer wanted to be in this room. It was far too small, too warm, to stay.

“I’m fine,” he said, removing himself from the bedroll, fumbling around the floor for his clothes. He found his breeches, turning them, trying to find the front…

“Where are you going?” Mayra asked. She sounded hurt.

James paused. Was this what he wanted? To sleep with a woman, then leave in the middle of the night? He’d never had much respect for men who did things like that.

Though, he didn’t have much respect for himself at the moment. For God’s sake, he’d thought of another woman while he was inside of her…

But he wasn’t leaving because of Mayra. He wouldn’t be doing any more sleeping tonight, and even if he did, he didn’t want to risk waking up next to her in such a state again. He couldn’t add hurting her to the wrongs he’d already committed against her.

“I won’t sleep any more tonight,” he said truthfully, turning back toward her. “And I don’t want to disturb you.”

She drew the blankets up, covering her breasts. “All right…” James returned to finding his clothes, pulling them over his nakedness. “Will I… see you tomorrow?” she asked as he moved toward the door.

James paused. “I… wasn’t sure you would want to,” he said, sure his poor performance had ruined any chance of this happening a second time.

“Why?”

“Things… didn’t go that well.”

“Well… you did say it had been awhile...”

Right. His white lie. Claiming that sleeping with her _hadn’t_ been his first time…

He wasn’t about to admit otherwise.

“…But it was fine.” She cleared her throat. “It was _great_ , actually, and I’d… like to see you again James.”

James knew she was just trying to make him feel better, preserve his pride. He didn’t believe her when she said it had been great. But he believed that she wanted to see him again.

He wasn’t going to deny her. He was committed to trying to make this work.

He crossed back toward her and crouched by her side. He gently took her chin between his fingers, leaning to kiss her.

“I’ll find you tomorrow evening,” he promised softly when he pulled away.

He exited her room, then the kitchens through the back door. Once outside he paused to take a deep breath, looking toward the sky, toward both moons hovering together above the castle. There was no Nightmare in sight.

Despite the moons’ light it was dark, still the middle of the night for all he could tell. It would likely be hours yet before dawn. He would wander the walls, he decided, until then. Or perhaps he would go to the library and look through Skyhold’s collection of books. Regardless, he knew that once dawn began to more visibly approach, he would go to the training grounds. He couldn’t afford to fall into complacency.

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen woke from a nightmare.

He opened his eyes, entire body tensed, head throbbing, mind still filled with images of abominations and demons, the bodies of Templars and mages alike…

And the sounds. He couldn’t unhear the shrieks and screams, the otherworldly _noises_ that had not quieted for days, weeks…

He still didn’t know how long it had been until the Hero arrived.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard a small moan from the bed next to him. But he had grown accustomed to waking like this with Naomi next to him. And seeing her tangled brown hair, a glimpse of her freckled nose, calmed him.

_I’m not in the Circle anymore. I’m not a Templar. I’m in Skyhold, the Commander of the Inquisition._

_And I’m with Naomi. The woman I love._

And the woman he loved was currently waking after a night of heavy drinking.

“Shit,” she mumbled, turning her face into the pillow. She moaned again. “Fuck…” came another muffled curse.

Cullen smirked. It always amused him, when she cursed like this. Though he felt somewhat guilty for smiling, considering the hangover she was likely suffering from, sure it was worse than his own headache.

“Fucking… Qunari… shit… alcohol…” she continued to mumble as she slowly turned to her back. She rubbed her hands into her face. “Fuuuuck.”

Cullen began to doubt whether she remembered he was there. “Naomi?” he said quietly.

She yelped, dropping her hands and opening her eyes while she turned toward him. Eyes that she quickly shut again. “God ver _domme_ Cullen,” she muttered. “Don’t _scare_ me like that…” Her voice was thick, pitched much lower than usual.

“Sorry,” he said, moving closer under the blankets, wrapping an arm around her waist. She turned into his embrace.

“Fuck,” she continued, rubbing her forehead against his shoulder. “I never feel the alcohol when I’m in the Fade… I always forget what it will be like in the morning…” Cullen supposed that was true. Sleeping was one way to avoid a hangover. Though he found it strange, the way she referred to dreaming. “So,” she continued, slowly pulling her head away to glance at him sheepishly. “Did you bring me back last night?”

 _She doesn’t remember._ “Yes.”

She grimaced. “Hopefully I could walk.”

“Yes, you could walk…” Cullen replied, slowly rubbing his fingers across her back. _Maker… she doesn’t remember what she told me…_

“Remind me never to drink anything Bull offers again,” she said with a small smile. Cullen nodded absentmindedly, trying to decide how to approach this subject, how to bring up what she had told him.

“Cullen?” Naomi asked, frowning slightly. “Is everything all right?”

He decided on a direct approach. “Naomi,” he said, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Last night... You told me that you… can’t have children.”

Her mouth parted slightly, a look akin to horror settling on her face. “Wha-? No…”

“You were upset, afraid that I would leave. You said it was because you can’t have children. Then you cried yourself to sleep,” he said quietly.

“No,” she said, covering her face with a hand. “No, no, no…”

“Naomi. Naomi,” Cullen said quickly, pulling her closer. “It’s all right…”

“No it’s not,” she said, lowering her hand to look at him. She had started to cry. “That isn’t how I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want to be drunk, or cry. I just… wanted to explain…” She grimaced, rubbing her temple. “I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Just… tell me what you wanted to say.”

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. After a moment she took a deep breath. “I know it’s too soon to talk about having children. We haven’t been together that long… And we haven’t even… had sex…” She cleared her throat. “That’s actually why I was thinking about it. Because I don’t want… _didn’t_ want to get pregnant if we did.” She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. “I was so afraid to have a child… and not be able to take care of it…”

She sounded terrified. Cullen hadn’t realized it scared her so much, the possibility of having children. He knew it was something that could happen if, _when_ , they slept together, but it didn’t make him want her any less. It certainly didn’t scare him.

_Is this what she meant, about not having children? That she didn’t want them? Because she thinks she would be alone?_

“Naomi,” he said, trying to calm her. “You wouldn’t have to take care of a child alone. If we had a child… Maker, you must know I would do everything I could for you…”

“Of course I know that Cullen,” Naomi said, opening her eyes and reaching for his face. “But… something could happen to you, and James is always in danger…” Her eyes roamed over his features, and Cullen had the impression she was trying to memorize his face.

She looked away after a moment, but Cullen turned to studying her own worried expresssion. In the security of Skyhold, it was sometimes easy to forget that outside of its walls, Naomi had no family, no connections, that she still knew so little of this world. It frightened him too, to think of her alone. And he couldn’t promise that nothing would happen to him during this conflict, that he could always protect her.

“But none of that matters,” she continued, “because I realized I won’t be able to have children here. Even when I’m ready.”

So she did want children.

“How can you know?” Cullen asked. “You’ve… never tried to have children.”

She let out a long sigh, then carefully extracted herself from his arms. “Here, I’ll explain,” she said, moving slowly toward a small trunk at the foot of her bed, rummaging through its contents. “I just need some paper and some charcoal…” She returned to the bed when she had her supplies, back and head leaning against the headboard. Cullen sat up himself, curious despite the somber subject.

“I’m so hungover…” she mumbled. But she took a deep breath and looked at him. “It’s… not exactly that I _can’t_ have children. Though, I guess I don’t even know for sure that I could. It’s that I won’t be able to have children with _you_ , or anyone from this place.”

Cullen didn’t know what to say. It didn’t make sense. First, she’d said she couldn’t have children, and now she was saying she could… but not with him?

“Naomi, I don’t understand. If you don’t _know_ that you can’t have children, why…?”

“Just… here, I’ll try to explain. It’s a lot. I have to start with the basics of what life is…”

Cullen tried to keep up. He really did. But what she began to tell him, the things she described… It was so foreign, so new, he could barely wrap his mind around one new bit of information before she moved on, slow and patient as she was. His headache didn’t help. Naomi promised to show him these ‘cells’ when Dagna had configured a microscope to see them, but even then, he wasn’t sure he could believe…

And the idea that species could change, come from other species... Much as he trusted Naomi wasn’t lying, it was so farfetched…

Then she started talking about sex. Not in a romantic sense, or even about them personally. No, it was amazing how she could talk about sex with no hesitation when it was an abstraction. Cullen found himself blushing when she explained _exactly_ what was contained in a man’s seed, but she was unfazed, and just moved on to the equivalent found in women, then on to the process of how these two essences combined to create children…

Apparently, the most important thing keeping them from having children was so small, she wouldn’t even be able to see it with this microscope she wanted to make.

And she believed they weren’t the same at that level, because they were from different worlds. Because they had never shared ancestors.

“You’re certain that our… ‘genes’ won’t match? But surely they must. You and James look human.”

Naomi fiddled with the corner of the paper. “I’m… not sure,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “I guess there’s… a chance I’m wrong.”

Cullen felt a surge of hope, certain she must be mistaken. He couldn’t believe the Maker would create another world with people that looked like humans, but be so different in this way, in a way that would make children impossible.

“But Cullen,” Naomi continued. “That chance is so small, it’s not worth considering. I’m almost entirely sure I won’t. That we can’t…” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “That’s why I needed to tell you, sooner rather than later. Because if you want children, you can’t have them with me…” Her voice broke, and she took a deep stuttering breath to hold back tears he knew she wanted to shed. “And… and I’ll understand if you want to be with someone who can give you that…”

“Naomi,” Cullen said, reaching for her face, turning her eyes toward his. “I’m not leaving you.”

She frowned, tears starting to slip from her eyes. “I… really?”

“Of course not.”

She shook her head slightly. “Don’t you want children?”

Cullen swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. “I never did while I was a Templar. First I was too young, and then… after leaving Ferelden’s Circle for Kirkwall… a family was the furthest thing from my mind.”

“But you left the Templars.”

Cullen sighed. “Yes. And… I did start to think, perhaps, we could have children…”

He could see the disappointment settling on her face. “So you do want children.”

Cullen had thought for hours the night before what a life without children would be like. Considering what he had believed his entire life, it was easy to do. But he couldn’t imagine his life without Naomi. He didn’t want to.

And now she had said she wasn’t even sure that she couldn’t have children.

“I want you more.”

She was still shaking her head. “Cullen,” she choked. “You can’t mean that…”

He brought his other hand to her face, gently rubbing the tears from her cheeks. He waited until she looked at him. “I _do_ mean that.” He said, putting as much sincerity into his voice, into his gaze, as he could. “I love you Naomi, and I didn’t fall in love with you because you could give me children. I don’t want to move on from you, even if that means we won’t have children someday.”

She broke, the tenuous hold on her emotions failing, and Cullen pulled her to his shoulder, waiting for her to let everything out. His own eyes began to water, faced with her sorrow. He may not be convinced they wouldn’t have children someday, but she clearly was, and she had been willing to lose him so he could have a choice.

A choice, if she was correct, that she didn’t have.

She pulled away sooner than he expected, mumbling an apology about his shirt, wiping her eyes, her nose. “I promise, someday, I won’t cry so much,” she whispered.

Cullen ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

She smiled, then groaned. “Shit… Dennet’s going to kill me. I was supposed to work this morning.”

“I can tell him you were sick.”

She snorted. “Because of my own inability to control myself.” She looked into his eyes and smirked. “No… I’ll just beg for forgiveness.”

Despite her smiles and jokes, Cullen could still see the pain in her expression. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you think you had to worry alone?”

She took a moment to answer. “I was afraid.” She said softly. “I… didn’t know how this conversation would go, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

Cullen sighed, pulling her into his shoulder. “Please Naomi, you can talk to me about these things. You don’t have to keep them to yourself.”

“I know,” she said, settling her body more firmly against his. “I’m just so used to dealing with things like this myself… I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Just come to me next time, instead of pulling away.”

“I’ll try.” They were silent for a moment. “Cullen… if you ever change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

She sighed. “If you ever change your mind,” she repeated. “I’ll understand.” She pulled away to look at him. “Promise me, if you ever think that having children, your _own_ children, is more important, you’ll tell me…”

“That won’t happen Naomi,” Cullen insisted. He heard her let out a frustrated breath. “But… I promise.”

“Thank you.” Then her expression softened and she reached to place a kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”

Cullen pulled her into a proper kiss.

 

* * *

 

 

When Nassella woke, it took her a moment to realize where she was.

She wasn’t in her bed, that much, at least, was immediately clear. Her view as much to round to be her own room…

The rotunda. That was it. She couldn’t exactly remember how, but she had found her way to the rotunda, and was currently sprawled on the couch where Solas read books, or where they would curl up to talk. She’d come looking for Solas after leaving the tavern, she remembered, but had apparently not had the awareness to go to his quarters instead.

It had been very important to her that she find him, however. She tried to remember why.

It came to her in a rush. Leaving Sera’s room, realizing that perhaps she wanted James more than Solas, only to find the human man kissing another woman, _leaving_ with another woman.

The thought of what they had done after leaving brought a twist to her gut, adding to the nausea already accompanying her hangover. She wanted it to be _her_ James left with, went to bed with…

 _No,_ she thought firmly, frowning toward the rafters where Leliana’s birds were also beginning to wake. She could think more clearly, now that she had sobered. _I cannot be jealous. I_ will not _be jealous. I made it clear to James I didn’t want him. What else was he supposed to do?_

All she could do was be angry with herself, for turning him away, for denying her feelings for so long. It was her fault, after all.

“Good morning, vhenan,” Solas said from somewhere above. Nassella started slightly, but quickly found him sitting on his scaffolding, painting. “I imagine you are feeling the effects of last night’s celebrations. There is some tea on the table, to help with your symptoms.”

She couldn’t be jealous. She already had a wonderful man who loved her. An _elf_ who loved her. Why would she give that up for human?

_Because that human is also a wonderful man._

Nassella scowled slightly, pushing that thought away. She couldn’t keep thinking like this, comparing the two. If she did, it would only be a matter of time before Solas realized something was wrong, that her heart was no longer entirely his. That was something she could not allow to happen.

And she couldn’t allow herself to be so torn, preoccupied with a choice she didn’t have. She had enough to worry about, being the Inquisitor, far more important choices to make.

“Thank you Solas,” she said quietly, sitting up slowly. “It was… certainly a celebration.”

He chuckled. “The constant stream of drunken partyers that stumbled through the hall last night attests to that.”

“Yes, it seems like nearly everyone was there,” she said as she stood to find the tea. Everyone except Solas. She picked up the still steaming cup, breathing in the scent of embrium, elfroot, and mint before taking a sip. After two more her stomach began to settle and she turned to see how Solas was progressing.

The painting was much further along than she expected, considering the rough sketch she had left him with the night before. It was the best panel yet. “Solas,” she said, stepping closer to inspect the details, the textures in the paint. “This is beautiful.” There was Adamant fortress, the Grey Warden crest, the Fade…

“Thank you,” he said, putting down his brushes to descend the ladder. “I worked through the night.”

That stopped her. It meant… “You were here when I arrived?”

He smiled down at her, snaking his arm around her waist. “Yes.”

She groaned, afraid of the state she had been in… what she had said. Solas chuckled again, bending to place a kiss on the top of her head. “You were quite far gone,” he said, amusement dripping from his voice.

“Did I… say anything? _Do_ anything?”

He smiled. “Do not fear Nassella. You simply muttered how much you loved me as I guided you to the couch. You had passed out before I had even returned to painting.”

Relief flooded through her. She remembered how she had acted with James the night before. She could not trust to hold herself in check when she had been drinking. She looked up at Solas and smiled. It was nice, to wake up after such a night, feeling this hungover, to find someone watching over her.

“Thank you Solas. I… got a little carried away last night.”

“Do not be embarrassed vhenan. You deserve a moment to relax, after the last few months.”

Yes. A moment. Because she had work to do. Josephine wanted to start preparing her for the ball in Halamshiral, where she would be forced to play the Game…

Nassella pulled away from Solas, finished her tea. “I should go. Josephine is probably waiting for me.”

 

\-----

 

Nassella found Naomi after the evening meal, and pulled her friend outside, guiding her to the furthest corner of the walls. They both slid to the floor, exhausted from their day.

“Working with horses is absolutely terrible when hungover,” Naomi said, chuckling to herself. “Don’t ever make me drink Bull’s stuff again, _please_.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Nassella replied, thinking of her own horrible day trying to focus with Josephine and Vivienne bombarding her with Orlesian political subtleties. She looked over at Naomi. “Did you talk to Cullen?”

Naomi nodded. “Yes.”

“And?”

“He says he doesn’t care, that he wants me more than he wants kids…”

“I knew he wouldn’t leave you because of that.”

But the woman frowned. “I guess…”

“What’s wrong Naomi?”

Naomi sighed. “I want to believe him… and I do think that’s what he wants right now. But I just… feel like he’ll change his mind. I’m not anything special, and he could have any woman he wants…”

“Naomi,” Nassella said, reaching to take her friend’s hand. “You have to trust that Cullen knows what he wants. He wouldn’t stay with you lightly over something this important. If he says he’d rather be with you than have children, then you should believe him.”

“But...”

“What if your positions were reversed, and he was the one who couldn’t have children? Would you leave him for that?”

Naomi sighed. “No.”

“Why do you think he’s any different?”

Naomi finally looked at her and gave her a small smile. “I guess I don’t.”

Nassella squeezed Naomi’s hand. “Then don’t worry about that. You two can get through this.”

Naomi nodded. “Thanks.”

Nassella looked up toward the mountains. “I’m still not entirely sure why you think you won’t have children with anyone here.”

“I’ll show you later. It will be easier to explain if I can draw some things out.”

“All right.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. “Did you… think more about Solas… and James?” Naomi finally asked.

Nassella cleared her throat. “I want to be with Solas.”

“Oh. Ok then…”

“Besides,” Nassella said, “James left with Mayra last night.”

Naomi was silent for a moment. “Oh,” she finally said quietly. “I’m sorry Ness, I really thought he might…”

“Well you were wrong,” Nassella said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. But she took a deep breath. It wasn’t Naomi’s fault that James decided to sleep with another woman. “It’s like I thought. He kissed me months ago, but he’s moved on.” She sniffed. “Besides… I shouldn’t want to be with a human anyway…”

Naomi let out a huff of air. “Bullshit,” she muttered.

Nassella looked at her friend, eyes wide. “What?”

“Sorry,” Naomi mumbled, though she looked at her with a slight frown on her face. “But if you love someone, it shouldn’t matter if they’re a human, or a dwarf, or a Qunari.”

“You were just worried that Cullen would leave you because of kids, even though he clearly loves you.”

Naomi’s frown deepened. “That’s different.”

“No it isn’t,” Nassella said. “If I had kids with a human, they wouldn’t be elves, they would look like humans. What if it’s important to me that I have elf children?”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s still different. You would still have children. It doesn’t matter what they would look like.”

Nassella was growing angry. “You don’t understand,” she said. “You don’t know what it’s like. My clan would never want me to end up with a human. You don’t know what other elves would think of me.”

Naomi grew quiet. “You’re right,” she finally said, looking away. “I can’t really understand what it’s like. But,” she continued. “I still think that loving someone should be more important.”

“Well, I love Solas,” Nassella said.

“Ok,” Naomi said. “That’s good then.” They lapsed into a somewhat tense silence, which Naomi eventually broke. “Now I need to talk to James about being careful when… sleeping with someone,” she muttered.

Nassella swallowed to calm the wrench in her gut. “What do you mean?”

“I just… want to make sure James doesn’t end up with a child…”

Nassella looked at Naomi in confusion. “You just said you can’t have children with people here.”

Naomi groaned. “We _can’t_ … I’m almost certain of it. But… I can’t be _entirely_ sure…”

“You think you’re wrong?”

“I don’t know!” Naomi exclaimed, turning toward her with wide eyes. “I can’t know for sure, and it’s killing me! I can’t have a child right now, and so I can’t have sex with Cullen until I know for _sure_ I won’t…” She covered her face with her hands. “It doesn’t make any sense, I know. But I just… can’t…”

Nassella moved closer. “It’s all right Naomi, I understand…” It was why Solas insisted they abstain.

Naomi dropped her hands. “I was actually… hoping you might be able to help with that,” she said quietly. “I’ve read about some herbs… but I don’t know how effective they would be.”

Nassella smiled, linking her arm with Naomi’s. “I know of just the thing you can use,” she said. “All the women in my clan used it, and I can only think of one woman who got pregnant while using it, and I don’t think anything short of not having sex would keep her from having more children. I mean… I used it since I was fifteen and I don’t have children.” She considered she should mention this to Solas, since he was so worried about getting her pregnant.

Naomi swallowed. “Wow… that’ impressive…” The woman took a deep breath.

“Are you nervous?” Nassella asked.

Naomi cleared her throat. “Well… yes. I’ve gone so long without, and now… it could happen soon…” She closed her eyes. “Shit… I shouldn’t be so nervous about this…”

“It’s all right Naomi,” Nassella said calmly. “It still doesn’t have to happen right away. You should probably wait for several days anyway, to make sure the herbs are working. Just… wait until you feel ready. Get used to the idea. Cullen’s waited this long, he won’t mind waiting a little longer.”

Naomi was nodding. “You’re right… I’ll… I’ll know. I mean… there’s been times when I didn’t want to stop, so…” She let out a long breath. “I’ll know…”


	74. New Roles

“Keep your back straight when you bow, my dear. You are one of the most powerful women in Thedas, not some minor Ferelden Bann.”

“You’re saying the Orlesians are going to judge my posture?” Nassella grumbled, straightening so she could attempt the bow again.

Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “They will judge everything, my dear, from the things you say, to your posture, to the way you sip wine. Those you will encounter at the Winter Palace have been playing this Game since they were children. You are sorely behind in mastering its subtleties, and as a Dalish elf, will be judged even more harshly for even the smallest transgressions.”

Nassella sighed, bowing once more. It wasn’t the first time the woman had mentioned her heritage and its disadvantages. Vivienne nodded. “Better.”

Nassella knew she shouldn’t be so rude. Vivienne was just trying to help, prepare her for this ball. She knew how important it was to play the Game. Their presence at these peace talks would be controversial as it was, they couldn’t afford to be dismissed, rejected before they could find those who sought to kill the Empress. But it was going on their seventh hour of instruction, after the nine hours the day before, the six before that… and she couldn’t even remember how many other hours over the past week. She didn’t realize learning how to talk and eat and bow could be so exhausting.

“I’m sorry Vivienne,” Nassella said, smiling at the other woman. “I know how important this is. It’s just… a lot.”

The mage’s expression softened, the corners of her dark eyes crinkling slightly in what Nassella knew was a smile. “Do not be discouraged, darling. Despite your lack of experience, you are learning remarkably quickly. I trust you will be quite ready to face the Orlesian court.”

Even with her fatigue and sour mood, Nassella was encouraged. Vivienne’s reputation as a formidable player of the game was well known even to her, an elf who had never even heard of the Game until she’d arrived in Haven. And Vivienne was honest in her opinions. If the mage said she could be ready, Nassella believed her.

The door to the chamber opened, Josephine floating in, followed with far less enthusiasm by Cullen. The Commander quickly closed the door behind him, turning to glower at the Ambassador. “Is this really necessary Josephine? I have far more important things I could be doing…”

“Of course this is necessary Cullen. We are going to a ball after all.”

“Yes, but surely we won’t have time to be _dancing_ with an assassin in our midst.”

“On the contrary. Our presence may be questioned if we are not seen to be partaking in the festivities. Besides, the Inquisitor needs a partner to practice with.”

Cullen sighed, turning his glare toward Nassella and crossing his arms. “Well, that will be difficult. I don’t know how.”

Josephine’s mouth opened in shock. “Surely you learned at some point.”

“Yes, because we had so many dances in the Circle.”

“Now Commander, there’s no need to snap at our Ambassador,” Vivienne interjecting, approaching Cullen with her hand outstretched. “We will simply have to teach you as well.”

Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he soon opened them and took Vivienne’s hand. The mage placed the other on her waist, then began leading him through the steps. Nassella watched, trying to memorize their movements, the way they shuffled and turned around the floor. It seemed simple enough, and repetitive…

And then Vivienne was beckoning her forward, urging her to take Cullen’s hands. Nassella wished she wasn’t so short, that she didn’t have to crane her neck to look into his face. Cullen was still frowning, his brows pulled together.

“I know I’m not the person you want to be dancing with, Commander,” she said with a smirk. “But surely it can’t be _so_ bad to dance with me.”

He blinked, meeting her gaze. “Of course it isn’t,” he said. “I’m simply…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Forgive me. I am fine.” Nassella realized he wasn’t just unhappy with being forced to dance. He was in pain. She was about to suggest they continue their lesson on another day when he began to move, leading her through the dance.

It was a disaster. Simply watching had not been enough to even remotely come close to learning the steps, and it didn’t help that Cullen had just learned himself. She couldn’t seem to keep her feet away from his, and she definitely knew she shouldn’t be _staring_ at his feet the entire time…

She hadn’t felt this clumsy since… Well, since she had tried to dance with James.

She stumbled, distracted by that thought, and Cullen stepped on her foot. Nassella winced, trying not to show him how much it hurt, realizing that wearing shoes probably would have been a good idea.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, backing away to give her more room.

“No, it was my fault,” Nassella said, rolling her shoulders to refocus herself. It was the problem she had been having most of the week, thoughts of James springing to mind when she least expected it. But it was getting better… She thought it was getting better.

“Why don’t we stop for the day?” Josephine suggested, stepping forward with a small smile.

“Yes,” Vivienne added. “Now you at least have… a start.”

Cullen moved to follow the two women from the room, but Nassella reached for his arm to hold him back. When they were alone, she studied his face, noting once more the pain she had detected earlier. “Cullen, are you feeling all right?” she asked softly.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just a headache, nothing I can’t handle Inquisitor,” he said.

Nassella sighed. “Cullen… it’s just us. You can call me Nassella. Or Ness.”

“I… you’re right Inquisitor.” He paused, realizing what he had done. “Nassella.”

Nassella smiled. “Now, is there anything I can help you with? Would you like the afternoon off?”

“That isn’t necessary Inqui- Nassella. I have worked with worse.”

“All right… but I’ll understand if you need some time.”

He looked at her, his brow smoothing slightly. “Thank you. But really, I will be fine.”

They were about to exit the room when the door opened, Naomi slipping inside. She smiled when she saw them. “Good, I caught you…”

“Do you need something?” Nassella asked.

“I was just wondering if you had thought about my request to help Alec with his withdrawal.”

Nassella frowned, trying to remember why she knew that name…

_Oh._

But this was the first she was hearing of Naomi wanting to help the man who had attacked her. “I… didn’t realize you had requested that,” she said. Naomi sighed, looking toward Cullen, disappointed.

“Cullen, you said you were going to talk to her this morning.”

The Commander was rubbing his temples. “It slipped my mind.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes slightly, but looked back to Nassella. “I want to give Alec the potion I had been giving Cullen. He’s the only other Templar who is no longer taking lyrium. The potion helped Cullen for a while, but it really isn’t any more. I need to give it to other people, to know if it’s just him, or if the potion would stop working for everyone. Besides,” she continued, crossing her arms, “it’s been four months. I can’t imagine the pain he’s likely in…”

“You shouldn’t be the one to help him, Naomi,” Cullen said, crossing his own arms. “He was punished for a reason.”

Naomi shook her head, glaring slightly. “His punishment didn’t include pain.”

“His punishment was to have his abilities removed, which means no longer taking lyrium. Pain is part of the process.”

“It doesn’t have to be. That’s what I’m trying to help with, for any Templar. I’m not going to change my mind about this Cullen.”

So this was not the first time they had argued about this particular subject. Nassella could understand why Cullen was hesitant to let Naomi near the man again. They hadn’t even been together when Alec attacked Naomi, but Nassella could remember how furious Cullen was with the other Templar, the guilt he had felt for not realizing what the man was sooner.

Her first instinct was to refuse as well. She had little sympathy for this man who had attacked her friend, attacked other women before, hiding behind his Templar insignia. She had sentenced him to rot in his cell, and she could be happy never thinking of him again.

But Naomi was asking to help. And not just Alec, but potentially other Templars. Naomi had the most right to be angry, to wish the man live the rest of his days in pain. But that wouldn’t be like her, and Nassella couldn’t see how she could keep Naomi from helping, if that was what she wanted.

“I won’t stop you Naomi, if you’re sure about this.”

Naomi smiled. “Thank you. I need to talk to Adan about some adjustments that could be made, so it will be a few days yet.”

“Just let us know when you’re ready,” Nassella said. “I’ll let the guards know you’re coming.

“Surely there is another way. Someone else could bring him this potion…” Cullen interjected, stepping toward Naomi.

“I need to talk to him Cullen, ask him how it works. Make observations…”

Cullen paused for a moment. “Have you been observing _me_?” he finally asked.

Naomi shrugged a shoulder. “Yes. I thought you knew that? I can show you my notes if you want.”

Cullen shook his head. “Maker’s breath…”

“I’m serious about this Cullen. I really think there are ways leaving behind lyrium could be made safer. I just need to keep working at it.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, then lowered his hand with a sigh. “I want to come with you when you see him,” he finally said. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He’s behind bars Cullen.”

“I don’t care,” Cullen said, stepping closer to Naomi. “I want to be there.”

Naomi smiled softly and nodded. “Ok… I’d like that anyway. I don’t really want to be alone either.”

“Good…”

Sensing that her presence was largely forgotten, Nassella quietly padded toward the door, leaving Naomi and Cullen behind as she slipped into the hall. Finally free from Josephine and Vivienne’s instruction, Nassella made her way outside, needing to feel the sun on her face, moving air on her skin. She could never entirely get used to living inside stone walls, cut off from the smells and sensations of being outdoors.

Skyhold was packed, the fortress nearly overflowing with people as commoners and nobles alike flocked to join the cause. Defeating an army of demons had done much to bolster the Inquisition’s influence around the continent. Dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, barefoot and nearly a head shorter than everyone she passed, vallaslin and ears bared to show her elvishness, Nassella could move nearly invisibly through Skyhold. It was just how she liked it, not in the mood to talk, or greet nobles, or hear a constant stream of _Your Worship_ and _Herald of Andraste…_

She escaped to the walls, relatively free of people, nearly making an entire circuit in solitude before hearing shouts from below. Recognizing familiar voices among the commotion, Nassella peered over the battlements, first seeing Bull standing out in the crowd, leading a group of new recruits through a series of drills. Blackwall was among them. So was James.

Nassella bit the inside of her lip, clenched a fist. It was nearing the end of summer, the days hot even in the mountains. So of course James had seen fit to spar shirtless. After a single moment of hesitation, Nassella moved to the stairs, finding a spot on a landing to sit and watch.

If anyone asked, she could say she was assessing the new recruits. In truth, she only watched James.

She didn’t know why it had taken her so long to realize how attractive he was. She supposed she had always known, recognized the appeal of his features, of his build. But they hadn’t _appealed_ to her until she’d seen him, naked in the Oasis…

Like he nearly was now, his torso bared as he sparred with the recruits, skin shining with sweat, highlighting, just like water had done in the Oasis, just how strong he was. He beckoned a recruit forward, a fresh young man hardly older than a boy. Even from her distance, Nassella could see how nervous he was.

She probably would be too, if all she saw was the large man working his way through the sparring line with no sign of tiring, entirely exposed to every blow, swinging his sword with practiced ease. But looking at James, Nassella remembered their first time fighting in Val Royeaux, when he had vomited at the sight of a dead body. That he hadn’t killed anybody until Haven was attacked and he thought his sister had been killed. That the main reason he wasn’t tired and afraid of being hit was because he had been touched by the Fade when he was brought to Thedas in an event that had killed over half of his family, knowledge that still hurt him, fueled his desire to fight with the ferocity that he did.

They didn’t know that a few months before, James had been just like them.

The lesson ended, most of the recruits scattering to other corners of Skyhold. But her three warrior companions stayed, James asking Blackwall a question, the Warden readying his sword to face off with the taller man. When their swords met, it was immediately clear they had held back with the recruits. After several minutes of rapid back and forth, Blackwall ended their duel. Bull stepped up, making a few comments, then lined up to face Blackwall himself. Nassella watched as James wandered to the side of the sparring area, taking a long drink from a waterskin, dumping some of the water on his head. He still hadn’t put a shirt on, and Nassella lost herself in looking at him, admiring not only his back, but also his ass and legs beneath his breeches…

Then he turned, smiling, and Nassella realized with a twist of her stomach that Mayra had arrived. The woman circled her hands around James’ stomach and waist, ending with them clasped just above his ass, pulling their bodies close together. She said something that made James laugh, then he bent down to place a quick kiss on her lips.

Nassella could see why he liked her. Mayra was pretty, seemed nice enough, and had the type of curves that men dreamed about. Unlike Nassella, who had just enough breasts and hips, when her clothes weren’t too loose, to indicate she was a grown woman and not a child. Most days she didn’t even bother with a breastband.

Nassella knew she shouldn’t be, tried not to be, but it still upset her to see Mayra with James. Ever since he’d left the tavern with the other woman a week before, Nassella had hardly seen him, gone days without talking to him. After months of travelling and fighting together, he was suddenly gone, not joining her at meals, cutting what conversations they did have short.

She stood, moving to descend the stairs fully. She and James were still friends, and even if he was seeing another woman, they should still be able to spend time together.

 

* * *

 

Mayra shifted her hands slightly lower on his back, and James couldn’t deny the way it made his heart rate pick up. Although, it was also likely a result of hearing what she had whispered in his ear when he pulled away from kissing her, a suggestion for later that night.

He… definitely hadn’t been entirely prepared for what he was getting himself into when he approached Mayra at the tavern that night. It was difficult, at times, to hide that nearly everything they did, no matter how simple, was essentially new to him. He’d worked to be better about ensuring she was satisfied before finishing himself, as it was the only way he could justify sleeping with her again, justify sleeping with her at all. But the night before, when she’d used her mouth… that control he had cultivated was pushed beyond the limit. She said she hadn’t minded, and James couldn’t deny that he wanted her to do it again…

“I’m a little jealous,” Mayra was saying, “that everyone can admire you when you’re training like this.” Her hands travelled lower and she stepped closer.

James cleared his throat, but grinned to cover his embarrassment. “Sorry, but it’s a bit too hot for a shirt.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said. She lowered her voice. “Just so long as I get to see _everything_ later tonight.”

His heart raced just a little faster, and he dropped down to kiss her again. It was a little public for what he was used to, but Mayra seemed to like it when he kissed her so openly, and he was trying to show her that he was trying, that he was willing to give her what she wanted. Anything to make up for their first time. “Don’t worry, that’s only for you,” he murmured into her ear when he pulled away again. Mayra giggled, then stepped back when her eyes shifted behind him.

“Good afternoon Your Worship,” she said, bowing slightly. James turned to see Nassella standing behind him, hands behind her back, eyes focused on Mayra. It was strange, to hear Nassella addressed so formally. He didn’t think he’d ever even referred to her as Inquisitor. She’d always been Nassella to him.

“Good afternoon,” Nassella replied, giving the other woman a small nod. Then her eyes shifted to him. Almost shifted to him. Her face was turned in his direction, but he could tell her eyes weren’t quite focused on his face, instead looking somewhere through him, beyond him. “You looked good with the recruits,” she said. Then she cleared her throat, red blooming on her cheeks. “I mean… it looks like you’ve been helping them with their training quite successfully.” So this _was_ Nassella the Inquisitor.

“Yeah,” James said, suddenly conscious of his state of undress in front of Nassella, and the awkwardness of having Mayra there as well. “I wasn’t sure when Cullen asked me to help with them, but I’ve enjoyed it so far.”

“Well, by this point you have more experience than almost anyone when it comes to fighting demons. And everything else they’re likely to encounter for that matter.”

“That’s what Cullen said too.”

They lapsed into silence, and James looked away from Nassella to see Mayra swaying back and forth on her feet. His awkwardness over being half-naked grew, knowing that one of these women he’d imagined sleeping with, and the other he was _actually_ sleeping with…

“Weeell,” Mayra finally said. “I’ve got work to do. Cook’s probably already wondering where I’ve got off too.” She smiled suggestively at James. “I’ll see you tonight…”

James nodded, relieved to see her leave. “Yup.”

He looked back to Nassella as Mayra left. The elf was still avoiding his gaze, and was now tugging on her earlobe. James recognized the nervous habit. Nassella the Inquisitor was gone. “Was there something you needed?” he asked, concerned.

“I want to learn to play football,” Nassella blurted, finally meeting his gaze. James’ mouth opened in surprise.

“What?”

“Football. You said you’d teach me to play. I haven’t forgotten,” she said, crossing her arms. Her gaze unfocused again. “So…”

James _had_ nearly forgotten, but he remembered now, and he couldn’t deny that the idea made him a little excited. Naomi could bring her microscopes and science from Earth… but he didn’t see anything wrong with introducing one of the best sports he knew.

And since Nassella was the one asking…

“Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten either. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Nassella nodded, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth. Her gaze returned to his. “Good. I’m… really looking forward to it.”

“Cool. Maybe after you can teach me some sort of Dalish game.” He didn’t know why he had suggested that. He was trying to avoid spending time with her, when possible.

But the way her grin turned into a large, excited smile, pushed his doubt away. “I’d love that!”

James couldn’t help but smile back. “Ok then, it’s a date.”

He didn’t know why he said that either.

But Nassella didn’t seem to entirely understand the implications of his phrasing, and they were mercifully interrupted by Bull.

“Hey James, mind walking the walls with me?”

It was a strange request, but James was thankful for the escape from the way his conversation with Nassella had been developing. “Sure thing, just let me grab my tunic…”

“I’ll see you both later,” Nassella said as he reached for the garment. “And James, I won’t forget about football.”

“I won’t either.”

The walls were quiet when he and Bull ascended the stairs. They walked for a few minutes, discussing the recruits and developing a plan for the next day of training, when suddenly a man from a pair of Inquisition scouts they were passing lunged at Bull. James saw the flash of a knife, heard a shout, then the man was stumbling to the ground from a punch from Bull. Before James could react, Bull had thrown an axe into the chest of the second man.

“Bull!” James yelled, seeing the first man struggling to his feet.

“I got this!” Bull said, grabbing the man by his tunic.

“Ebost issala, Tal-Vashoth!” the man spat. Then Bull _lifted_ the man and sent him flying over the battlements to the rocky cliffs below.

“Yeah, yeah, my soul’s dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so…” Bull grunted, wiping the blood from his skin. “Sorry James. I thought I might need backup.”

“What the fuck?!” James exclaimed, his heart racing. He wished he had a weapon, but he never thought to carry one in Skyhold. They were supposed to be safe here.

“An assassin,” Bull said calmly. “Sent by the Ben-Hassrath. No denying I’m Tal’vashoth now.”

“They tried to kill you?”

Bull scowled. “Oh no, that was just a formality. They’d have sent more than two guys with poisoned blades if they really wanted me dead. I guess I’m not even worth sending professionals over.”

“Poison?” James asked. “Jesus Bull, we need to get you to a healer…”

“Don’t worry. Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed. I suspected this was coming, which is why I’ve been dosing myself with the antidote for days now.”

It didn’t make James feel better, and he warily looked around, searching for any more would-be-assassins. “You’re sure it was just the one…?”

“Yeah, a change in the guard rotation tipped me off. Thought I’d give them a chance to finish what they came to do. That’s why I asked you up here, just in case things got out of hand. Figured with your healing you could take them down.”

James stared at the Qunari. “Well why didn’t you warn me?” he finally asked, annoyed that he had been kept in the dark. “I could have helped!”

“You go through years of Ben-Hassrath training to hide facial expressions when I wasn’t looking?”

James frowned.

Bull smirked. “See? Like that.” He crossed his arms. “You’d have given me away if I said anything.”

James scowled, crossing his own arms. “I can’t believe they tried to kill you… just for leaving?”

“Just making it clear that I’m Tal-Vashoth now.” Bull’s expression shifted to a frown. “Tal-Va- _fucking_ -shoth.”

James just shook his head. He didn’t quite understand why Bull was so upset. “You’ve been acting like a Tal-Vashoth for years, and it didn’t change anything. I mean, if I were you, I’d have left years ago,” James mumbled. “Especially if this is how they treat people…”

“That was just a role. This is my life, as one of those… I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Bandits, murderers, bastards who turned their back on the Qun. And now I’m one of them.”

James couldn’t believe it, that Bull thought suddenly being cut off from the Qun would change him. “Bullshit,” he told the other warrior. “You’re a good man Bull, you’re not going to turn into some murderer just because you’re not part of the Qun anymore.” He shook his head. “I mean… I wouldn’t call myself a Christian anymore. It doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going around killing people for the hell of it.” _Though I am having sex outside of marriage…_  “You’re just… a mercenary captain for the Inquisition. Seriously, that doesn’t have to change.”

Bull nodded, his expression softening. “I can live with that.” Then he started walking again. “Anyway, seems like we’ve got a ‘football’ to make. You don’t want to disappoint the Boss.”

James shook his head at the change in subject. “Shouldn’t we do something about…” He gestured to the dead man, wincing slightly at the blood pooling red beneath his body.

“I’ll find someone to send for Cullen and Red. Now, about this football…”

“You want to help?”

“Why not? I’m curious about this game.”

James looked Bull up and down. Now that he thought about it, Bull would have made an impressive football player, back on Earth. “I think you’ll like this game,” he offered, leaving the dead man to catch up to the Qunari. “It involves tackling.”

“Nice.” Bull’s grin grew. “Bet the Boss would like to get tackled by you…”

James frowned. He thought Bull had left this behind. “Drop it Bull. She doesn’t want that.”

“I don’t know. She was watching you pretty intently while we were training.”

James shook his head. “She barely looked at me.”

“Nah, I’m talking about before, when she was watching from the stairs. I don’t think her eyes left you once.”

James felt his face growing warm. “She was probably just watching the recruits. Besides,” he added, emphasizing his words, “she is with Solas. Let it go.”

“My money’s still on you.”

James stopped walking. Knowing Bull… “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Ask Varric. He’s keeping the books.”

James knew he was probably flaming red. It was one thing for Bull to figure out how he felt about Nassella. But to have Varric involved, and who knew how many others… “I can’t believe this,” he grumbled, running his hand through his scruff. “You can’t… just make bets about stuff like that!”

“No need to get upset. You’re not the only relationship in the running.”

“Well _that’s_ a relief,” James continued to gripe.

“We’ve got money on how long Blackwall will take to finally tell Josephine how he feels,” Bull rumbled. “And on when Cullen and your sister will stop their dancing and get it on…”

“Oh my God,” James moaned, turning to bury his head in his arms, leaning against the battlements. _This isn’t happening…_

“You can get in on it if you want. I’m thinking by the end of the month…”

“Fuck no!” James exclaimed, refusing to look at the other man. “The last thing I want to do is bet on when my sister will…” He shook his head, unable to finish his thought. Besides, he’d figured Naomi and Cullen were way past that point…

“Suit yourself,” Bull said. James could tell he was smiling, even if he wasn’t looking at the other man.

“Bull,” James said, straightening so he could glare at the warrior. “Can you _please_ just let this be? I’m with Mayra. I don’t want to be with Ness. You’re going to _lose._ ”

Bull just shrugged, still smiling. “We’ll see.”

James rolled his eyes, then moved to descend the stairs. “Come on. We haven’t sparred in a few days. Then we’ll try to make a football.” He _really_ needed to take out this frustration Bull kept riling up with his questions and comments.


	75. Football

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, field work has taken a lot out of me these past few days. Hopefully this chapter is coherent :/

James surveyed the group that had gathered, trying to decide how best to split everyone into two teams. He turned the makeshift football he had pulled together with scraps of leather and a little bit of inflation magic from Dorian between his hands, deciding that the easiest way to make equal teams would be to split up based on height.

For days he’d been excited to share his favorite sport with these people, his friends and colleagues, but now, standing in front of them, he worried that they wouldn’t enjoy playing as much as he did. He’d already gone over the rules. At least, the rules that he felt they could reasonably handle without a football field, goalposts, referees… Even with the truncated list, James realized how many there were, and hoped it wouldn’t be overwhelming. He knew it didn’t matter if it was perfect, but he wanted everyone to enjoy themselves.

He didn’t know why he was so worried. He’d faced red Templars, Venatori mages, demons, giants, dragons… but the thought that no one would like football made him irrationally nervous. But it was the first time he’d tried to contribute something to this new world, to share something from his old life that had made him happy. Though many of those gathered just thought it was a game from the Anderfels, if no one else liked it, even a little bit…

He met Nassella’s eyes as she stood with her hands on her hips, shifting her weight between her legs. She smiled encouragingly. James smiled back, largely to hide his increasing nervousness. Nassella was the one most excited to play, the one who had pushed and organized this game in the first place. She was the last person he wanted to disappoint.

“We’ll divide up by height,” he said, looking over the varied group, consisting of a Qunari, dwarves, humans, elves… “So Bull, you’ll start one team, then I’ll be on the other. Grim, you go with Bull, then Dorian with me, Blackwall with Bull…” He paused when he reached Naomi. “You go with Bull, Naomi,” he told his sister. “We shouldn’t be on the same team.”

Naomi raised an eyebrow. “Why? It’s not like I’m any good.”

“You at least know how to play.”

“Kind of,” she mumbled. But she moved to join Bull and the others.

“So, Stitches and Krem are with me,” James continued. “Sera with Bull, Skinner over here, Dalish with Bull, Rocky here, Ness with Bull…” He watched Nassella move, a little disappointed she hadn’t ended up on his team. But he decided it was for the best as she smiled at Naomi. It would be easier, not having that grin on his team the entire game. “That puts Varric with us.”

James looked toward the spectators, at Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra, and Cullen all lined up against the far wall. They’d been invited to play, but James wasn’t surprised that they had declined. The Inquisition leaders had appearances to keep up, after all. Though that hadn’t kept Nassella away. He also noticed Cole sitting on the wall high above, swinging his feet against the stones. James wondered if the spirit wanted to join, but he seemed content to sit and watch.

He noted that Solas was nowhere to be seen. He’d heard Nassella asking him to play over breakfast, but even though the elf had refused, James thought Solas might still show up to watch. He had apparently been mistaken.

“Let’s take a couple of minutes to figure out positions, then we can get started,” he said. Everyone on Naomi’s team turned toward her, and James had to smile at the brief look of shock that crossed her face as she found herself essentially in charge. But he had his own team to figure out.

“Anybody have a preference for a position?”

“Yes,” Dorian said, dressed in the simplest tunic and breeches James had ever seen the mage in, though the clothing was still nicer than anything he owned. “I have little desire to be tackled like a brute.”

“Um…” James said. It would be difficult, to fulfill Dorian’s request. “In theory the quarterback should be tackled the least...”

“Perfect! I’ll take it,” Dorian said.

“You think you can throw?” James asked, tossing the football to the other man. Dorian caught it well enough, but frowned as he inspected it.

“Is there a reason it’s shaped so oddly?”

“Um, probably,” James said. “But I don’t know why.”

“Here,” Krem said as he ran a few feet away. “Toss it over.”

Dorian threw the ball, not half-badly. “Well if no one else is dying to be quarterback, the position’s yours Dorian,” James said.

The rest was easier, as James reasoned that Naomi would place Bull on the line. That meant he, Stitches, and Krem would make up their own team’s line if they were to have any hope of stopping the Qunari warrior. The rest of the team would act as receivers and the defenders responsible for running down the other team.

“Let’s do this!” Nassella yelled from where the other team was meeting, eyeing his own team with slightly narrowed eyes, a mischievous grin tugging up the corners of her thin lips. A surge of competitive excitement coursed through James. However this went for everybody else, he wanted to win.

Krem tossed a coin to determine who started with the ball. The coin landed with the visage of Andraste turned toward the sky.

“We get first possession,” James said with a grin. “That means you kick,” he added as he tossed the ball to his sister. She caught it, smiling.

“You guys are going down!” she taunted, backing toward her end of the field.

James laughed as he ran with the others toward their own side, marked out with practice swords stuck into the ground in a far corner of Skyhold. “All right,” he said as everyone lined up. “Whoever catches the ball, run.”

The ball, sent down the field by a kick from Naomi, ended up in Dorian’s hands. The mage stalled, staring at the ball, as if surprised to find himself in possession. “Run!” James yelled, sprinting toward Bull as he hurtled down the field, attempting to divert the Qunari away from the mage. But he never reached the other warrior, as he himself was hit in the side, falling to the ground in a cloud of dust, blonde hair, and snorting laughter.

“Sera!” he complained. “You’re not supposed to tackle _me_. I don’t have the ball.”

“Ah, that’s no fun!” the elf giggled, rolling off of him and to her feet. James stood with a shake of his head, looking around to see how the rest of the play had progressed.

Dorian was on the ground, several feet behind where he had caught the ball, Bull lying on top of him. James ran toward the two, noting how Bull was elevating himself just enough to keep from crushing the smaller man, but not enough to allow Dorian any room to move.

“Fasta vas!” Dorian yelped. “Get off of me you oaf!”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Bull said with a chuckle, low enough that James suspected he wasn’t meant to overhear. But Bull lifted himself away from Dorian, allowing the mage to scramble to his feet.

He took a moment to dust the dirt from his clothes, sending a glare toward James. “I seem to recall saying I wanted to _avoid_ being tackled.”

James shrugged. “Well, any time you have the ball, you can get tackled.”

“And how can I avoid that in the future?”

“Not play?”

“Well that won’t do, I’d never live it down,” Dorian said. Then he shook his head, smiling good-naturedly. “What now?”

James looked toward Naomi’s team, where she was exchanging a high-five with Bull. He narrowed his eyes.

“Now, we get serious.”

After a few quick words with his team, reminding them of what they were trying to do, creating a strategy, moving positions around so Dorian would no longer be in Bull’s direct path, they lined up. James scanned the other team, eyes stalling a moment longer on Nassella as she bounced on her feet, still grinning and ready to run down whoever got the ball.

He remembered what Bull had said a few days earlier, about tackling her… of getting tackled…

He shook that thought away.

“Hut!”

It was nothing like football back home. No one but he and Naomi had ever seen a game before, and every play seemed to result in new rules, morphing from the old or springing from the dust floating around their feet. Like the way he couldn’t entirely get in everybody’s heads that only the person in possession of the ball could be tackled during the play. And by everybody, he meant Sera.

“Sera! You can’t just tackle whoever you want!”

The elf stuck her tongue out, blowing air in his direction.

“Let it go James!” Naomi yelled with a laugh.

“Of course you’d say that. She’s on your team!”

Still… it went much better than he could have hoped. And he realized, the fourth time he found himself driven to the ground by Bull before he could pass the football to one of his teammates, that playing with a bunch of warriors and soldiers who spent their lives facing armed enemies intent on killing them, was much more intense than any pick-up game he had ever played with friends and family back on Earth.

“All right,” James wheezed, rubbing his ribs while Bull pulled him to his feet, thankful that he could heal so easily. “I think… that’s fourth down, so you guys get the ball.”

“Sweet!” Naomi said, grabbing the ball from his hands and gathering her team close. James did the same.

“Ok,” James said. “Just… try to stop them, no matter what.”

Skinner and Rocky grinned. Varric rubbed his hands together. “Can do.”

Grim served as quarterback for the other team. James readied himself to try and go for the sack, but he highly doubted, despite his strength, that he would be able to make it past Bull.

But he was going to try his hardest, because the warrior was looking far too smug.

With a grunt from Grim the play began. James slammed his shoulder into Bull, pushing with futile effort against the solid wall of flesh and muscle that the Qunari presented. There was shouting and shoving, and then James heard over the din, “Run Ness!”

He pulled away from Bull, turning to watch as Nassella dashed around Skinner, huge smile plastered across her face as Rocky dove, missing her by a hair as she spun out of the way. Varric and Krem fared little better, and then Nassella was jumping around the end zone, football held high above her head.

Even though the other team had scored against them, he couldn’t help but smile at her victory. Nassella may be small, but there was a reason she was an amazing hunter and a successful warrior. She had danced her way across the field like she danced around a battlefield.

“Touchdown!” Naomi yelled in his ear. James winced, finding her so close. She poked him in the arm. “Hah! Take that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” James said. “You got lucky.”

“Oh no, that was pure skill,” she teased, poking him again.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Hey, these are _my_ plays we’re running. I can get some credit.”

James crossed his arms, glaring down at his sister. She just kept smiling.

“Having fun?’

James relented, allowing himself to smile back. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Then she ran back to her team, waving toward Cullen as she did. The Commander lifted a hand in return, smiling back. His eyes never left her.

“Solas! You came!”

James was pulled from studying his sister and her boyfriend and looked to see Nassella running to give Solas a hug, obviously surprised to find him there. It made James a little angry. Nassella shouldn’t have to be shocked to find Solas supporting her, engaging in the activities she found enjoyable. She should expect that he would show up.

But it wasn’t James’ place to say anything, so he turned back to his team, to switching things up in order to more successfully compete. He gave Rocky the task of quarterback and explained a running play. If they could just get someone past Bull, they might have a shot of gaining some ground.

He lined up behind the dwarf, waiting for the signal to start. When things began moving it was a matter of speed, of getting the ball from Rocky before the others knew what was happening, running around their line when they were still attempting to sack the dwarf, of hoping that Naomi and the other women on her team didn’t realize he had the ball…

He made it around Bull, Grim, and Blackwall with little problem, and dodged Naomi’s attempt to tackle him easily. He thought he was free, eyes fixed on his own team’s end zone, when he felt arms around his waist, his legs no longer able to take their full long strides. He was knocked off balance, his momentum carrying him to the ground. He landed on his back, his tackler on top of him, arms still around his waist. He opened his eyes, finding Nassella’s green eyes staring at him, crinkled at the corners as she laughed.

“Come on James!” she exclaimed. “You can’t go down that easily!”

For a moment, James didn’t know what to say, his mind momentarily stunned to find Nassella so close, pressed against him. She was so beautiful. He wanted to kiss every purple line of vallaslin on her face, ending where they crossed her lips. And then kiss her until he was out of breath and so was she, pulling her even closer to feel every line of her perfect body against his…

“James?” Nassella had stopped laughing, was staring intently at him. Only seconds had passed, but James feared it was already too much, that he had revealed something to her that he had spent so long trying to suppress.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he said by way of explanation, laughing to cover his momentary lapse in focus, sitting up so he could move away from her. Nassella shifted away from his body, leaving an emptiness behind, and laughed as well.

“They didn’t put me in charge for nothing,” she joked as she rose to her feet.

James avoided Bull’s gaze as he returned to the center of the field. He didn’t have to see the other man’s face to know the type of self-satisfied grin that would cover it.

He spent the rest of the game avoiding Nassella when he could, making sure to always be on the opposite side of the field, or lined up across from Bull, in order to avoid another chance of being tackled by her. It was a blur of running and throwing and tackling. After his run, his team couldn’t make any more headway down the field, and they were forced to turn the ball over. Dalish scored after that. Then his own team fumbled. Naomi caught a pass from Grim and almost made it to the end zone when she was caught by Krem, the two falling to the ground in a cloud of dust and a shout. Cullen ran on to the field at that point, clearly worried that Naomi had been hurt. But he just found the two of them laughing, Krem pulling Naomi to her feet, his sister’s hair nearly falling out of her braid. Cullen returned to the sidelines, shaking his head.

James’ team ended up losing. Despite his best attempts to create even teams, he realized by the end of the game that elves made amazing receivers. Sera, Dalish, and Ness weren’t exactly large, but they were fast and agile, and having all three of them on one team meant his own team was doomed when it came to stopping them.

He decided he didn’t care. He hadn’t had that much fun in… months. During that game it was almost easy to forget they were at war, that his life was now filled with grief and fear and anger. During that game, he was just a man playing football with his friends, with nothing more important to do than focus on the next play, on trying to move the ball just a few meters further down the field.

And looking around as Naomi reassured Cullen she was uninjured, as Bull punched Krem on the shoulder with a grin and a joke, as Sera and Dalish continued to pass the ball between the two of them… he knew the others had enjoyed themselves as well. Varric sent him a wink when he met the dwarf’s eyes, and James couldn’t help but smile. He actually felt… happy.

Then Naomi ran toward him, flashing her teeth as she smiled. She turned to the group and announced loudly. “Everyone! Take some time to get cleaned up, then meet back in the kitchens. I have a surprise!”

 

* * *

 

Nassella descended the stairs into the underbelly of Skyhold, following the smell of baking bread and roasting meat, pulling Solas behind her.

“What did you think of the game?” she asked as they reached the lower landing, turning down a hallway toward the kitchens. She still felt a slight glow from playing, even after spending time washing the sweat and dirt from her body and changing into clean clothes. It had been nice, to engage in such an exerting activity without the accompanying anxiety fighting inevitably brought. She’d also appreciated the excuse it gave her to escape Josephine and Vivienne for an afternoon. And she couldn’t help but smile when she thought of how much James had smiled and laughed during the game. She didn’t often see him that relaxed, and she was glad she had insisted he set up a game.

“It was quite… physical,” Solas commented.

Nassella blushed, knowing he was referring to the tackling. She was also afraid he was alluding to when she had tackled James and lingered on top of him for perhaps a moment too long, finding it far too enjoyable to be so close to him, feeling the movement of his muscles beneath her, the scent of his sweat. She’d even imagined his eyes had dropped to staring at her lips…

She had once more found herself aroused by James. She gripped Solas’ hand harder. This back and forth in her mind was getting out of hand, was entirely inappropriate. She had made her choice, but her body had yet to realize it. She tried to rationalize her continued response to James, remembering it had been over a _year_ since she had last been intimate, the longest she had gone without in nearly a decade, since she’d been a teenager first rolling around the forest floor with another hunter from her clan…

But Solas still didn’t think they should have sex, that the consequences were potentially too great. It was frustrating. Nassella didn’t want to push him, but she also didn’t think all of his fears were legitimate.

Now, however, was not the time for such a conversation, and it was certainly not the time to allow Solas to realize her attraction toward James. That was something that could never happen. So she needed to change the subject.

“Yeah. James said that the professionals would wear helmets and some sort of armor when they played…” She stopped walking. “Now that I think about it, it’s very strange that they have people who play that sport for a living on his world. That the only thing they contribute is entertainment. A Dalish clan would never have anything like that.”

“James and Naomi come from an advanced society. It is not uncommon for such places to have citizens engaged solely in activities not required for survival.”

_Right… because the Dalish don’t have an advanced society…_

She didn’t know why his comment rankled her. She knew the Dalish in no way lived like James and Naomi had. They didn’t even live like humans in Thedas. But she didn’t care. She would gladly return to that life, to living day to day, hunting for her every meal, making everything she needed, if it meant her family would once more be alive.

She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Today was about Naomi and James sharing from their home. Nassella stopped Solas before they entered the kitchen, reaching for his face. She didn’t want to be annoyed with him, wanted to only think of him. “I’m so glad you came,” she said quietly. “I know you didn’t play…”

“My curiosity got the better of me,” he said with a smile. “It is not every day one is introduced to foods and sports from entirely new worlds.”

She smiled back. “I know. I’m curious to see what Naomi has planned. She’s been keeping it a secret, but I know she’s excited.”

“Then we should not keep her waiting any longer.”

Nearly everyone had already arrived in the kitchens, sitting at a table off in one corner, attempting to stay out of the cook and kitchen staff’s way as they worked on providing the evening meal. Nassella and Solas approached, and Nassella was slightly annoyed to find Mayra among those gathered at the table, sitting next to James.

“Great! You’re here,” Naomi said, beckoning them closer. “We’re about ready to take them out of the oven…”

“So what have you made for us Freckles?” Varric asked as he sipped from a tankard of ale.

“Yeah,” James added. “Just tell us.”

Naomi smiled, but shook her head. “I want you to be surprised! Besides, it won’t mean anything to anyone else.”

“So, when’s the next game?” Bull asked.

James looked surprised. “You want to play again?”

“Of course we do,” Krem said. “We have to beat Chief, otherwise he’ll never let us forget it.”

“You got that right,” Bull taunted.

“Maybe in a few days,” James said with a grin. “We should probably at least act like we do work around here.”

Nassella watched Naomi slip away from the table, Mayra behind. With barely a thought, Nassella stood, following them to the ovens lined up against the far wall.

Naomi had opened a door and was peering inside. “They look great!” she said excitedly. “I can’t believe this worked…”

“Here,” Mayra said, gently moving Naomi aside so she could reach into the ovens, her hands protected with cloth. “They look ready.” Nassella watched as Mayra removed a tray, containing what looked like a large circular piece of flat bread, covered in meat and cheese and vegetables. She thought she smelled tomatoes.

“What is this?” she asked Naomi as Mayra set to removing several more of the flat breads from the ovens.

“Pizza!” Naomi said quietly. “It’s James’ favorite…”

“What’s the hold up over there?!” came a call from the table. Nassella glanced back to see James and Cullen walking toward them. Before she could urge them back, James had caught sight of the food, and she watched as his expression shifted from confusion to excitement.

“What is this?” he asked, quickly passing the last distance to the ovens, eyes wide as he continued to stare at the food.

“Surprise!” Naomi said, gesturing toward the pizzas.

“You’re kidding.”

Naomi laughed. “Now don’t get too excited. It’s not the same… the herbs are a little different, and I couldn’t get the sauce right. Mayra helped with the dough, so that worked out all right, and you’re lucky I learned how to make mozzarella while I was in grad school, and could still remember…” Her rant was cut short when James pulled her into a hug.

“I don’t care. This is the best…” He squeezed her tighter, laughing into her hair. “I love you.”

Nassella felt her chest tighten. She knew James loved Naomi, but to hear him say it, and in front of others… How homesick had he been, if simple food could make him this happy?

She wished he could be happy like this all of the time. But she knew the pain he carried, pain that was so similar to hers. No games or food could truly replace the lives they had previously led, those they had lost. But it would have to be enough.

And then James pulled away and bent to give Mayra a kiss. It was over quickly, but it was more than enough to send a stab of jealousy through Nassella’s body. She looked away, reaching for cloths to help Cullen and Naomi carry the food to the table.

As she ate the pizza, delicious despite Naomi’s insistence that it was much better back home, Nassella couldn’t keep from watching James across the table. She could never ignore him while they were together. Not anymore.

Her attraction to him was so much more than physical. She loved him, loved seeing him happy. Loved him when he was angry and hurting. And seeing him with Mayra was painful, no matter how much she reasoned that it was perfectly natural for him to seek companionship, told herself that she _shouldn’t_ be jealous because she had Solas.

It was because they were always together. She’d had no time since her realization of her feelings away from James to let them run their course, and then let them go. She still wanted to be his friend, couldn't bear the thought of losing that. But the only way she could do that was if she got away from him, at least for a time. She… couldn’t keep doing this. She watched James place his arm around Mayra’s waist.

No. She couldn’t keep this up. It was only a matter of time until she slipped, and she couldn’t risk that. Because James still wouldn’t want her, and neither would Solas.


	76. Lucky Coin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW y'all. Also, I think the longest chapter yet. I'm also bumping up the rating.

Cullen watched as Naomi placed the last bowl into its place on a shelf, dusting her hands on her clothes as she turned to him with a smile.

“There,” she said. “Done.”

Cullen smiled back. “I’m still not sure why you turned down everyone else’s offer to help.”

Naomi shook her head. “This was a surprise for James and everyone else. I wasn’t going to ask them to clean. And I’ve been in the kitchen staff’s way for days now, trying to figure out how I could make something even remotely like pizza. The least I could do was clean up after myself.”

Cullen just continued to smile, watching as she collected a few apples from a barrel in a corner. There were always moments like this with Naomi, when he was reminded of how compassionate she was, of how thoughts of others were never far from her mind. He didn’t know why it continued to surprise him. It was part of why he loved her, why he continued to fall in love with her.

Even when that compassion was turned toward those who didn’t deserve it. He still couldn’t accept her decision to help Alec, the man who had assaulted her, injured and scarred her. He couldn’t see the necessity, couldn’t understand why she was so insistent to offer her aid. But it was another facet of her empathy, that it encompassed everyone. Maker knew he had benefitted from its inclusion.

She walked toward him, apples in hand, and the small grin that still quirked her lips arranged her already pleasing features even more beautifully. It still astonished him, sometimes, that she loved him back.

He’d wanted to kiss her all afternoon and evening, since he’d watched her tumble to the ground, tackled by Krem, and rushed on to the field to ensure she hadn’t been injured. Now that they were alone, he could finally fulfill that need, taking her face between his hand, guiding their lips together and kissing her long and slow…

She pulled away with a small laugh, adjusting the fruit in her hands. “Come on. I haven’t seen Liberty today and I want to bring her these apples.” Her grin took on a suggestive cast, increasing the rate of Cullen’s breathing. “Then we can continue this somewhere more private…”

Cullen followed Naomi out of the kitchen’s back door, watching the movement of her backside as she descended the stairs in the pale evening light, listening as she babbled about the day’s events. “I’m so glad the pizza worked out. James wanting to play football made me realize that there are fun things from home we could still have here. It reminded me of Thanksgiving with my family. We would always play football and go out for pizza the Saturday after. Well… I usually just watched everyone play… James would get so competitive, but he actually wasn’t that bad today…”

She was so happy, so relaxed, and by extension, Cullen felt the same. He’d loved experiencing these glimpses into her old life, allowing him to better understand things she had only ever talked about. And he wished, once again, he could have met her family…

He slipped his hand into his pocket as they entered the stables, making sure the small metal disk was still there. He’d been thinking for days of how he could demonstrate to Naomi his sincerity in wanting to be with her, show her that he loved her. And some way that he could help her… increase her confidence in living in this world. Her new world.

Their conversation about children had reminded him of two things. First was that Naomi still feared finding herself alone, and after everybody she had already lost, Cullen knew that fear was not unfounded. Second was that outside of Skyhold’s walls, outside of the Inquisition’s protection, she had nothing. No family, no resources, no connections…

And finally, their conversation had revealed she did not seem to realize just how much he cared for her, if she thought he would leave because she couldn’t have children…

Answers had come to him slowly, over the past weeks, ways that perhaps he could address her fears, offer her assurance that she could live in this world, that she would not have to find herself alone, no matter what happened to him, or her brother, or her friends. He was just waiting for the right time, for moments of quiet when he could present to her what he wanted to offer.

Cullen knew that time had come as Naomi called softly to Liberty, the mare approaching the woman with a shake of her head and a whinny. Naomi smiled, offering the horse one of the apples, rubbing her snout as she gently talked to the animal, apologizing for her day of absence.

“We should go riding sometime soon,” Naomi said louder, looking toward Cullen, Liberty nosing for another fruit. “It’s been some time since Liberty got a chance to run. Obsidian has seemed anxious lately as well.”

“I would like that,” Cullen replied. He gripped the coin in his pocket.

“I love science, and doing research,” Naomi continued. “But there’s something about working with horses…” She sighed. “I don’t know… part of me thinks I could be content doing nothing else. God knows my life probably would have been less stressful if I hadn’t gone to grad school…”

“Then why did you do it?” _Quit stalling…_

She looked at him fondly. “The same reason you joined the Templars. I wanted to do more than just make a living.” She looked back to Liberty, giving her the final apple. “I wanted to help the plants and animals around me, and by extension, people. I thought I could help save the world if I could just help conserve what we were destroying...”

_Do it now. I can’t allow her to go another day in fear. She is too good a person for that._

“Naomi I want to give you something,” he said, stepping toward her. “A number of things actually…”

She turned to him in surprise. “That’s… not necessary Cullen. You don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do,” he said, moving closer.

“But…”

“Just… allow me this,” he said, reaching for her hand. She squeezed his back and nodded, eyes fixed on his. Cullen cleared his throat. “I know you’re afraid, Naomi, that you’ll end up alone and won’t be able to care for yourself. I… can’t promise that you won’t lose James, or Nassella, or me before this is over…” She frowned slightly, “…but you must know, Naomi, that you are not helpless.” He reached to stroke her cheek. This was perhaps more important than any physical thing he could offer. She had to understand her own strength, see what he had watched her cultivate ever since she had arrived in Thedas. “I’ve seen you fight, and with your abilities, I know you could care for yourself, should the worst happen. And you have skills now, with the horses and with potions… you can live in this world Naomi, with or without me or the Inquisition.” He searched her face for understanding. “Do you believe me?” he asked when she said nothing.

She bit slightly at her lip. “Yes,” she finally whispered. Then she swallowed. “Was that what you wanted to give me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve… also written to my sister. I told her about you. About us.”

“Oh,” Naomi said quietly, and Cullen imagined her face growing red. “That’s great. I know you haven’t spoken in a long time…”

Cullen blushed. It had been far too long since he had written Mia. It was shameful, really. “I want you to know, should something happen to me and you find yourself alone, that you can find Mia, near Honnleath. Knowing what you mean to me, she will take you in, if you want. It can never replace your family, but I want you to know, Naomi, that you don’t ever have to be alone again…” Cullen could see her face beginning to pinch as she tried to hold back tears. “I have also written a letter for you to give her if you choose, explaining… where you are from, how you came to be here, so you wouldn’t have to lie to her. You can trust her.”

“Cullen…”

He reached for the coin in his pocket. He needed to continue, before her display of emotion pulled him down as well. He opened his hand, showing her the coin. “When I left to join the Templars, my brother gave me this coin. It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.” Cullen couldn’t help but smile at the memory. He’d been so optimistic that day, leaving with the Templars for the Chantry. “Templars aren’t supposed to carry such things, but I kept this coin, through everything…” Even after Ferelden’s Circle fell, when luck seemed it could get no further away, he had brought the coin to Kirkwall. He hadn’t always carried it with him, but he never threw it away. He’d remembered it, several days ago, and dug it out of the chest it had been buried in. “I like to think that, perhaps, keeping it allowed me to meet you…” He pressed the coin into her hand and met her gaze. “I want you to have it.”

Naomi’s mouth opened slightly in shock, and she shook her head. “Cullen… I couldn’t. It’s the only thing you have from your childhood…”

“Humor me,” he said, “it would… make me feel better, to know you have it.” He clasped their hands together. “It may be foolish, but if you have this coin… then I believe things will continue to be all right.”

“It’s too much, Cullen. I can’t give you anything like this…”

Cullen wanted to laugh. Or cry. He didn’t know. She’d _already_ given him so much, but if she didn’t know that…

“Naomi,” he breathed, “the only reason I’m standing here, still free of lyrium, is because of _you._ That day… that day I threw my lyrium kit, I nearly gave in. I nearly went back because of the pain, because I thought I needed it to be what the Inquisition needed. But I didn’t take it, because I thought of _you,_ and I knew that I could never be with you, or someone like you, if I went back. We weren’t even together and…” He swallowed. Meeting her had saved his life, he felt that in his bones. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. “And now, everything you’ve been working on, trying to help me through…” He searched her face, reaching to wipe away the tears that were falling.

_How could she think she has given me nothing?_

“Ok,” she finally whispered, voice shaking. She looked down, taking the coin from his grasp. She turned it carefully in her fingers. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Cullen let out a breath, surprised at the relief he felt. “Good. I know it’s foolish, but… thank you.”

“No,” she said, gathering him into an embrace. “Thank you.” She held him tighter. “I love you so much Cullen…”

“As do I.”

They stood like that for a moment, Naomi occasionally sniffing as she quietly emptied her eyes and heart into his shoulder. Cullen didn’t mind. He relished her proximity, the closeness he felt to her, remembering a time when she would not allow him to comfort her when she cried.

But these tears were not shed in sorrow, so she controlled herself quickly, sighing against him. Cullen pulled back, smiling down at her.

“There’s one more thing.” He looked toward Liberty, the horse nosing slightly toward him, likely looking for another apple. “Liberty is yours.”

“What?”

“I talked to Dennet, and Liberty doesn’t belong to him or the Inquisition any longer. She belongs to you. You could leave tomorrow and take her as your own…”

She gripped him tighter, looking at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?” she asked laughter in the question.

Cullen’s smile broadened. “Of course. Dennet was more than happy to make it official. You are the one who trained her, after all.”

Her face was inches from his. She reached to hold his jaw, eyes roaming over every part of his face. “I can’t believe… thank you…” Then she pulled them together, kissing him with a smile on her lips. He felt the tension he had held as he worried about her response to everything he wanted to say melt away, and he allowed himself to get lost in the soft feel of her lips. But after a moment the urgency of her kiss changed. Her smile disappeared and her hands started to wander, pushing him back against the stable wall. She pressed closer, hips flush with his, lips insistent, probing.

Cullen had expected her to cry. Or perhaps laugh. This… this he hadn’t expected. But he wasn’t about to complain, or stop her, as her hands gently ran down the expanse of his chest, blood rushing along the same path straight to his groin...

Liberty neighed loudly, and Naomi was momentarily startled, pulling back with a gasp. In the lull Cullen heard voices from the far end of the stable, a soft light glowing as a lantern was lit. Cullen tried to calm himself. There was something about kissing Naomi that made him forget where he was, that others could see. Naomi apparently realized the same thing.

“Let’s… let’s go to your loft…”

Cullen hummed in agreement, running a hand down the expanse of her back to grip her ass, his heart racing in anticipation after her display, wondering if it was possible she would let him kiss her for the rest of the night. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

 

Naomi felt another ripple of pleasure, a muted warmth spread from her core, as Cullen shifted slightly, soft lips finding a fresh spot on her neck to caress, nerves tingling as the scruff along his jaw brushed her skin. He nipped his teeth at her pulse, then deepened his kiss, _sucking_ until she moaned. She shifted beneath him, his erection grazing her leg through their clothes, and tried not to lose herself in the way Cullen made her ache…

His teeth nibbled at her skin again, and she let out a long sigh to focus her scattered mind. “You’re… going to leave a mark…” she gasped, gripping at his shoulders. She felt him smile against her skin.

“Good,” he rumbled, sending a shiver through her entire body. He resumed his ministrations with renewed vigor, his hand wandering to cup her breast. She arched her back slightly, increasing the contact between their bodies.

“I… I had to wear…a… a…” She moaned, running a hand through his hair. _Focus…_   “I had to wear a scarf for three days last time.”

Cullen hummed, but just continued to suckle until her skin throbbed with a dull ache and she couldn’t help but rub herself against him, Cullen responding with several small thrusts of his hips against her thigh. She wished, not for the first time, that there was no fabric between them. Finally he relented, gently kissing the surely reddened skin of her neck, then moving to her jaw, her cheeks, leaving her numb with every peck, until he reached her lips. He kissed her until she was forced to move away for air.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find that scarf again,” he said, amused. Naomi gave him a mock glare, just able to make out the golden color of his eyes in the candlelight. She loved the color of his eyes.

“It’s the middle of summer,” she complained.

He grinned. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

He just chuckled. Naomi wrinkled her nose, gently pushing against him, encouraging him to reverse their positions. Legs straddling his body she placed her hands on his bare chest, palms tickled by the dusting of hair found there, one finger feeling the raised line of a scar long healed. She locked eyes with him, momentarily stunned by the way her body pulsed with pleasure at the _heat_ contained in his gaze. What a look from him could do to her, when she imagined what he w _anted_ to do…

It still surprised her, in moments like this, to realize just how much she trusted him. She didn’t know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere between kissing him for the first time and now, any apprehension at being alone with him had simply… disappeared. Fear and anxiety she had felt almost her entire life around men just did not exist when she was with Cullen, even when he was on top of her, kissing her, running his hands over her body…

“It’s not fair,” she said when she found her voice. She leaned down, bringing her lips to his own neck. “You don’t react like I do when I kiss you like this…” she breathed into his warm skin, brushing her lips lightly over the place where his heart pulsed. It was racing.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” Cullen replied, voice thick, his hands running along her hips, across her ass, calloused fingers pushing beneath the thin fabric of her undervest.

“Still…” But Naomi let it go, using her own hands to explore the ridges and contours of his upper body, marveling at how strong he was. She’d never imagined ending up with someone that looked like him. Men that looked like Cullen on Earth were generally in professions she had little reason to interact with, and she wasn’t sure how she would have met a soldier or professional athlete hunched over plants in a prairie. But she was no longer on Earth, and strength in Thedas was abundant. Even she was stronger now, more confident in her body’s abilities than she could ever remember.

She gently kissed every inch of Cullen’s neck in a futile attempt to make him lose his mind like he could nearly make her do. But he was simply not as sensitive in that particular spot as she, so Naomi moved on, following her hands with her mouth so she could run her kisses along his shoulders, his collar bone, the wide expanse of his chest…

She shifted her body lower as she moved, his arousal brushing hard between her legs. Cullen groaned, his grip on her hips tightening, his own rolling into her, centering her more fully over his cock. The movement sent a shock through Naomi, her sex throbbing to find him pressed against her even through fabric.

_Of course. Of course his penis drives him crazy…_

She adjusted her hips again, grinding slightly down into him, continuing her exploration of his chest with her mouth, relishing the pressure, the small increase in friction that was still enough to send her own arousal higher, and even higher as Cullen responded in kind, pulling her into him and pressing into her…

They’d ended up like this once before, except he’d been on top then, between her legs, thrusting against her as if they weren’t fully clothed. She’d made him stop, reluctantly, fearing that too long spent in such a position would drive her past a point where it would be nearly impossible for her to return, where she would finally discard the last anchors of caution and reason that kept her from going all of the way, kept her from entirely letting go and embracing the purely physical desires she’d shied away from for so long.

But those anchors were now incredibly light, nearly nonexistent. As she found her way back to Cullen’s lips, ran her hands over his skin, rolled her hips against his, against his cock… all she could think was that she didn’t want to stop. That she didn’t want to go back to her own room to finish what they had started alone.

Cullen was apparently thinking the same thing, and when they pulled apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together, lower bodies still in motion, he groaned, “Maker, Naomi. I want you...”

The _need_ in his voice made her sex clench, the largest shock of pleasure yet slowly coursing through her entire core.

God, she wanted him too.

But then he abruptly stopped moving, his grip on her loosening. His eyes opened, brow furrowed in concern. “Naomi… I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m not trying to push. I don’t mind waiting until you are ready. Maker, I will wait as long as you need…”

She believed him. She’d always believed he would wait. She wouldn’t be here now, in this position, if she didn’t believe that entirely.

_But do I need to wait any longer? Do I want to?_

_No._

The answer came with no hesitation. Naomi sat up slightly, surprised at herself. But when she thought about continuing, about making love with Cullen… her apprehension was gone.

She loved him, trusted him. She’d known that for months. And the fear of getting pregnant… was also nearly gone, she realized. She’d been using Nassella’s tea for at least a fortnight, and after Cullen had offered a place with his sister… Her fears about children suddenly seemed small, especially considering her strong belief that she needn’t worry in the first place, birth control or not.

She was ready. The more she thought it, the more sure she became. Despite everything that had happened, the people who had hurt her, the fear she had lived with… it finally felt like, that with Cullen, it could be as if none of it had ever happened.

The only thing holding her back now was nervousness, a slight impulse to shy away from the unknown. But that was a small obstacle, one she had already overcome time and time again.

She reached for Cullen’s face, gently stroking the scruff covering his jaw. She studied his features, at their near perfect symmetry, at how almost unbelievably handsome he was. And she looked into his eyes, still concerned as he studied her back, filled with love and understanding and patience. She could stop this now, leave for her own room, and Cullen wouldn’t question, wouldn’t try to convince her to stay. But she didn’t want to leave.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said quietly, licking her lips. This was it. “You know I want you too.” She met his gaze. “And I’m ready now.” Her heart started thumping in her chest.

Cullen’s eyes opened slightly wider in surprise, his hands once more gripping her hips. But he didn’t yet move. “Are... are you sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse with restrained emotion.

Naomi loved him, that even now, when she gave her permission he would ask again to make sure. But she didn’t want him to question again. She was ready, and he shouldn’t have to spend any more time doubting that.

She sat up, reaching for the ties holding her vest together, the thin cotton the only layer separating her body from his. She took a few deep breaths as she worked, some renewed nervousness threatening to keep her fingers from working. She’d never undressed so intimately for another person before…

She tugged on the strings until the garment was loose enough to pull over her head, and as she lowered her arms, casting the clothing toward the floor, Naomi resisted a final urge to cover herself. She rested her hands on her legs, then took a last, deep breath before looking back to Cullen.

He had been motionless and silent the entire time she unclothed, and he wasn’t looking at her face. He was staring at her breasts, his mouth hanging slightly open, chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took. Naomi’s cheeks began to burn red, but she said nothing, allowing him to look, excitement replacing her nervousness the more she accustomed herself to his gaze. She watched the hunger settling into his expression, imagined feeling his skin flush with hers, imagined more. Eventually he closed his mouth, swallowed, and brought his eyes back to hers.

“Yes,” she said, answering his question. “I’m sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

Naomi had perfect breasts. Granted, Cullen had seen few breasts in his life, and none so closely in a number of years, but he couldn’t imagine hers looking more perfect, the way they fell gently against her torso, contoured by the candlelight, slightly darker nipples already hardening in the night air. He’d imagined what she would look like a hundred times, but no fantasy could compare to the sight of her physically before him, bared to him.

He wanted to touch them, mold them in his hands, feel them pressed to his chest, kiss them, take a pearled nipple in his mouth and suck until she moaned…

But she had yet to answer his question, yet to verbally confirm that she would allow him to do any such things. He was staring, but he needed to be staring at her face.

He swallowed, attempting to wet a mouth that had gone dry, and forced himself to look away from those perfect breasts and to her face. Her perfect face, with her full, slightly parted lips, freckled skin glowing warmly in the light of the candles, that same light casting shadows where she was marked with scars. And her eyes. Eyes that always glowed just a little too brightly in dim light, but were more beautiful than any eyes he knew…

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Yes. _Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…_

He started to move, running a hand up her body until he grasped her bare waist, sitting up so he could reach her. But he stopped when she gasped and clutched at his arm.

It was so sudden. He hadn’t expected this to happen tonight. He was nervous, he realized. He hadn’t been with a woman in over a decade, she had never been with anyone ever before…

“What’s wrong?” Naomi asked, pulling him slightly closer, gripping him too tightly. She seemed nervous as well.

He wanted her more than anything, had wanted her for months. But now that it was here, he wasn’t sure he would be able to please her. “I… I want you to enjoy this Naomi…”

“I will Cullen. I know it.”

And he remembered what she had told him, to only think of her, to trust her when she said she was ready…

He closed the distance between them, kissing her slowly, at first, running his hands along her hips, her waist, the small of her back, marveling that the last barrier between them was gone. Naomi was gripping his neck, and soon, she was easing forward, the peaks of her breasts brushing against his chest, and then, when he couldn’t wait any longer, pressed fully against him as he pulled her to him, brought her hips back to straddling his cock.

His cock, which was straining against his breeches and underclothes, eager to be freed, so he could finally feel her, wrapped around him, moving around him, thrusting, warm and wet…

_Not yet. Slowly. Gently._

It was her first time. No matter how much she wanted it, there could still be pain if he wasn’t careful. There could be pain even if he was.

And there was so much more he wanted than to feel her around him. He wanted her to gasp, moan, _come_ because of him, forget everything but him and how he could make her feel…

He wanted to love every inch of her, and he started by leaving her lips behind, trailing down her jaw, her neck, kissing sweeps across her chest, lower and lower and lower until her breasts rose beneath his lips. He circled his hands around her waist, every heavy breath felt as her ribs expanded under his palms, and held her still as he brought his mouth, finally, to take a nipple between his lips.

“Oh,” she sighed, her hold on his neck increasing, encouraging him to continue, to kiss and lick and suck until she was arching into him, her hands buried in his hair, a barely inaudible moan escaping her lips with every exhale…

And her hips. Her hips were moving again, attempting to bring them even closer with every thrust. He _needed_ to feel her, to know that he was making her as wet as she was making him hard.

He worked his mouth back toward hers, and moved his hands down the expanse of her stomach to find her breeches and the ties that held them together. He pulled and tugged until they gave way, then worked his fingers beneath the layers of fabric until he felt soft curls beneath his fingers.

He stopped and looked back to Naomi, to her eyes. The ring of fade-touched green was blown wider than he had ever seen before.

“This is all right?’

“ _Yes_.”

He watched her, as he finally slipped a finger into her heat, her folds slick with her arousal. She gasped, her eyes wide, brows pulling together. She let out a number of shallow breaths and Cullen began to withdraw.

She followed him. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, eyes dropping to his lips. “Please…”

He thought his heart would burst from his chest, hearing her, feeling her. He kissed her, adding another finger as he worked between her legs, slowly exploring every curve and crevice as Naomi moved against him, her kisses clumsy as she gasped into his mouth, “High… higher…”

He obliged, knowing, even after his years of abstinence, that there was one spot that could bring her undone…

There. He knew he had found it when she moaned, bucking against him almost involuntarily. He worked at that spot, rubbing and stroking as Naomi ground against his hand, no longer kissing him, just clutching his hair and whispering “Ja… daar, ja…,” in his ear.

His cock pulsed, heat burning in his stomach, to hear her speak her own language, to think that she had been driven to such distraction by his fingers…

He didn’t relent, and soon her gasping became almost desperate. He kissed her neck, used his free hand to clutch her ass, worked with renewed vigor when Naomi cried, “Cullen! Ik… ik ga naar…”

She groaned, the sound emanating from her throat, muffled as if she tried to stifle it, her hips thrusting against him with a force he hadn’t expected. But he didn’t stop his ministrations until she gasped, “Stoppen… Dat is genoeg.”

He withdrew, fingers wet, the tang of her arousal drifting toward his nose. He wanted to taste it. Taste _her._

He never thought he would want something like that.

But he wiped them on his breeches instead, then reached for Naomi’s face with his hands. Her eyes were hooded, unfocused. “Ik hou van je,” she whispered. He didn’t understand all of her words, but he understood her intent, the love buried in her voice.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asked. He prayed that she would. He was still hard, more aroused than he could last remember, and he wanted to make her _come_ like that again. Wanted her to come _around_ him.

She blinked, focusing on him, and smiled. “God ja.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen smiled back, then kissed her until Naomi thought her lips would never regain feeling. Then he lifted her, sending a jolt of heat through her still throbbing core, laying her carefully back on the bed. He hovered a few inches above her half-naked body, gently running a hand along the entire length of her torso, skimming the rounded swell of her breast. “I love you,” he murmured before lowering himself, his skin contacting hers, his chest flush with hers, kissing her again…

Naomi kissed him back, ran her hands along his back, pulled him even closer. She never wanted him to stop kissing her…

But he did, eventually, using a hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m going to take my breeches off,” he said quietly, eyes searching hers.

Permission. He always asked permission.

She nodded, feeling empty when his warm body left hers. She sat up, clutching slightly at the sheets, heart thumping as she watched him sit at the edge of the bed, heard fabric rustling as he pulled at the ties holding his breeches on, then stood to pull them down, off…

Cullen’s ass was… magnificent. And so were his legs, muscled like the rest of him, candlelight reflecting off the slightly paler skin.

Then he turned toward her and she saw all of him, erect and reaching slightly toward the ceiling. She’d seen men before, but certainly never like this. Her entire body tensed, and she would have thought it was fear had the lingering pleasure of her orgasm not pulsed with refreshed fire.

She also knew it wasn’t fear because she didn’t want to leave or hide. She just wanted to know what it would feel like to have him inside of her…

Cullen returned to the bed and crawled slowly toward her. She swallowed, but smiled. She wasn’t afraid. She would never be afraid of him. He returned to her side and she reached for his shoulder. He ran his own hand over her stomach, stopping where her breeches were still clinging to her hips. “May I?”

“Yes.”

He pulled her breeches down first, carefully removing them from her legs, leaving her underclothes. She took a deep breath, nodding when he looked to her as he reached for the last remnants of fabric keeping them apart. But as that too disappeared, she worried that he wouldn’t like what he saw…

A fear that she quickly discarded, when she saw the way he looked at her, eyes slowly moving over every bit of her exposed skin until he met her eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he croaked.

Naomi cleared her throat and grinned. “So are you.”

He chuckled, then returned to kissing her. But he hovered above her, keeping his body, and his arousal, away from her. But Naomi was done waiting to feel him. To feel _all_ of him.

She shifted her legs, until he was between them, then ran her hand down the expanse of his back to his ass, pulling him down. “Please Cullen,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”

“Just… a moment,” Cullen gasped, fighting her hand. He looked down, between them. “I could hurt you…”

“It’s all right,” she assured him, reaching for his face. “I’ll be fine.”

He took a deep breath, but nodded. He allowed her to pull him down, bringing them together, and she did feel him then, hotter and harder than she had imagined…

His hand found her sex again, working at her still sensitive folds, this time entering her with one, then two fingers until she writhed against him. But she didn’t want to come around his fingers.

“Please _,”_ she gasped, pulling and pushing into him. She looked into his golden eyes. “ _Please_ Cullen. I’m _ready._ ”

He let out a strangled groan, then withdrew his hand from her. He centered himself above her body and she planted her feet, angling her hips up, toward him…

She felt Cullen’s cock against her entrance and closed her eyes. He slowly prodded, eased his cock between her folds. She tensed, let out a breath from her nose.

“It’s just me,” Cullen whispered. “I love you Naomi. I will stop, if you want.” But the gravel in his voice indicated he didn’t want to.

“I just need to relax,” she murmured. She took a breath, frustrated. “I’m fine.” She moved her hips, pushing them against him. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted, rolled his hips, moved into her…

There was a small pinch, nothing more, gone as quickly as it had come. Naomi gasped, suddenly finding herself filled and stretched more than her, or Cullen’s, fingers ever could. But he wasn’t done, and Naomi continued to gasp as Cullen grasped at her hips, adjusted her body so he could better thrust, slowly ease even further into her.

She wasn’t sure what to do, didn’t know if she should lie still, help him by pushing back, so she did a little of both. But Cullen didn’t seem to mind either way, and soon it didn’t matter, because she felt a pressure, deep inside, and he stopped, kissing at her neck, breathing deeply into her skin.

“Maker I love you,” he muttered.

“Yes…” She didn’t think that was the right response. She couldn’t focus.

“Look at me, Naomi.”

She did, blinking her eyes slowly open. The _lust_ in his eyes scattered any rational thought she had left.

He started to move, leaving her empty, refilling her, the feel of his cock rubbing the length of her sex more satisfying than anything she had ever done with her own fingers. She moved with him, clumsily at first, but somehow, eventually, they fell into a rhythm, and nothing else existed but the feel of his cock and his hands, their sweat and moans mingling just as their bodies did, heat and pleasure building and building in her core, his beautiful golden eyes never leaving hers…

Except when she came, suddenly, unexpectedly, and her world grew even smaller. Then all she knew was every muscle clenching in her body, losing control over her hips, her limbs, her voice, an orgasm that shook her deeper, left her more fulfilled than any had before. And it didn’t end, because Cullen continued to move for a moment longer, until she nearly shouted at him to stop. But before she could he groaned her name, thrusting once, twice more, then grew still, his body settling over hers with gratifying weight as he relaxed.

She thought it may have been hours, but reasoned it was likely only minutes, when Cullen shifted, lifting some of his mass off of her, bringing her partially back to herself. She ached slightly, between her legs, but in a way that felt good…

It was over. They had… Naomi smiled, running her hand idly across Cullen’s back.

“Are you…?”

“All right?” she asked, a laugh bursting past her lips. She reached for his face. “I am better than all right,” she said, smiling as he started to smile. “I’m…” She sighed, settling beneath him. “I’m happy.”

The… almost _pained_ look of relief that crossed his face left her chest aching. He removed himself and pulled them to their sides, wrapping his arm around her to draw her close. She was warm and content and happy…

“Say it again,” Cullen whispered.

“Say what?”

He stroked her cheek. “Say that you’re happy.”

She smiled. “I’m happy.” She pulled him closer. “ _You_ make me happy.”

She really did lose track of how long he kissed her after that, how many times he told her he loved her. They eventually stopped, and Naomi felt herself drifting toward sleep, head pressed to his chest, his heartbeat in her ear.

“It’s a good thing you taught me some of your language,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Because you were speaking English most of the time.”

She frowned. “Really?”

Cullen laughed, vibrations rumbling from his chest to hers. “Yes.”

She had rather lost her head… “What did I say?”

“Ja. Daar. Alsjeblieft. Ik ben klaar. Niet stoppen. Ik ga komen…” He sighed. “Ik hou van je. That means ‘I love you’?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll try to speak Common next time.”

“Don’t,” he said. “I rather like your language. It’s… sexy.”

Naomi shivered, blushing, embarrassed even after what they had just done.

“Why now?” Cullen asked next, running his thumb along her lower back.

“Why now what?” she asked sleepily. She wondered how Cullen wasn’t also falling asleep.

“Why decide tonight to…?” She felt him tense. “Was it what I said in the stables? Naomi, I didn’t give you those things to get you into bed…”

Naomi snorted. “Cullen,” she said sternly. “Do you really think gifts would convince me to sleep with someone? Even you?”

There was a pause, and he relaxed. “Of course not,” he said sheepishly.

She bit the inside of her lip. “It did help, though,” she said quietly. “Not the gifts, really, but the possibility of a future… even if you were…” _Dead_. She held him tighter. “I was ready Cullen. I’ve been ready. Giving me those things just… pushed me to realize that the reasons I had for holding back… mattered less than being with you.” She felt herself beginning to cry. “I’ve… finally moved past what my cousin did to me,” she said, the weight of that realization settling into her heart. And it was because of Cullen. “I needed you for that…” she whispered. “And… and you said I could live in this world without you, and I probably could, but I don’t want to.” She looked at Cullen’s face. The future was so tenuous, terrifying even. And she prayed Cullen would be there. “I don’t want to live here without you.”

His eyes had started to shine. “Neither do I.”


	77. Serenity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Figured you guys had waited long enough for the smut, so have a little more!

Naomi wandered through the Fade, down a series of maze-like hallways that reminded her of those found in Skyhold’s main tower. She hummed slightly as she walked, twirling her bow lazily while she passed blue-walled dreams and the occasional wisp, but her mind wasn’t on her surroundings. She thought instead about Cullen, and what they had done before she fell asleep.

It had been several days since they first had sex. They had repeated the act many more times than that, and Cullen at least was growing much bolder as they grew more comfortable with their new relationship. Which is why he had asked that night, still slightly embarrassed, as he kissed his way down to her navel, if he could keep going…

She’d hesitated only a second before consenting, Cullen proceeding to use, not his fingers or cock, but his lips and tongue to bring her over the edge. When he was done he had kissed her breathless, the taste of her still on his lips.

Now as she walked, tingling slightly at the memory, Naomi thought about doing the same, of taking Cullen in _her_ mouth until he finished. Every other joke it seemed, both from Earth and Thedas, indicated men desired that sort of thing. She had no reason to believe Cullen would be any different.

She could believe, however, that he might never ask that from her. Which meant she would have to offer, and as much as she was accustoming herself to the pleasures of Cullen’s body, that thought made her nervous. She’d used her hands during their love-making, but she had never been the one to bring him all of the way when he wasn’t inside of her. She wasn’t sure if she could do it…

_It would be fine…_

She would just wait. There would come a time when she knew she was ready, when her worries no longer seemed to matter. That strategy had served her so far.

She was so lost in those thoughts that when she came out of them to study her surroundings, she wasn’t sure where she was. She quickly realized that was a foolish thought. She never knew exactly where she was in the Fade. She was near a dream, she realized, had nearly walked into it. _I need to pay more attention…_ She looked around, remembering the last time she had been so distracted while in the Fade…

And saw out of the corner of her eye a patch of tawny brown, a small flash of white. She nocked an arrow on her bowstring while she turned, ready to attack should her visitor prove to be malicious.

It was just the white-tailed deer, pawing nervously at the ground, eyes fixed on her weapon. It hadn’t been back since it had killed the demon attacking her, three weeks prior. Naomi had missed seeing the creature and decided, in that moment, that she was not afraid of it. It had never once indicated it wanted to hurt her. She went to lower her weapon and the deer turned away, spooked. “No!” she called softly. “You don’t have to go… I won’t hurt you.”

The animal stopped, flicked its tail. It kept staring at her with far more intelligence than this species should possess.

“I’m sorry I keep frightening you,” Naomi continued, trying to relax her body, communicate to the deer her intentions with body language. “I just didn’t expect to find an animal like you here…” Naomi frowned slightly. “But I guess you’re not really a deer…”

_No._

Naomi jumped, looking behind her, around her for the source of the voice. It was vaguely feminine, but not definitively so.

_Don’t be frightened. It is just me._

She looked back to the deer, apprehensive despite her decision to not be afraid. She hadn’t expected it to speak. “You’re… a spirit.”

_That is one name for what I am._

A spirit then. The last time Naomi had met a spirit, not a demon or wisp… was when she had found David in the Fade with Solas, her brother playing basketball with two black-haired children. Though those spirits had not been obviously threatening, Naomi had still found them unsettling. That could have been a result, however, of her being unsettled with being in Thedas in the first place.

But she was far more settled now, and this spirit seemed, if not harmless, at least friendly.

That begged the question… why was it being friendly to her?

And what type of spirit was it.

Naomi allowed her weapon to disappear. “I want to thank you,” she said, “for killing the demon attacking me. I wouldn’t have gotten away without your help.”

_You were troubled. I wanted to help._

Not _in_ trouble. Troubled.

Naomi glanced away. Was it appropriate, to ask a spirit what they represented?

“Why a deer?” she asked instead. “If you’re a spirit… couldn’t you look like anything?” The deer flicked an ear, pawed the ground once more. Naomi bit the inside of her lip. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate to ask a spirit about its appearance either.

 _I wanted to appear in a form you would find familiar. Something that reminded you of happier times,_ came the spirits reply. _You enjoyed seeing these animals in your home._

“How did you know that? Can you read my thoughts?”

_I feel, see memories. When you are content, at peace. And when you are agitated, turbulence twisting your heart._

Naomi frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that the spirit had appeared the night that it did, when she had realized she would never have a family of her own.

_I have upset you._

“No,” Naomi said quickly. “I’m not upset… just a little confused.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I… don’t know why you’re here.”

_I was not always here. I followed you._

“Why?”

_You make me remember what I am._

Naomi discarded caution. “And… what is that?”

_Serenity._

 

\-----

 

Serenity. It still didn’t make sense. Naomi hadn’t felt serene in so long. Instead she grieved for her home, for her family. And she was afraid, for her brother and friends, for herself, for Cullen…

_You may have felt those things… but no more. Not for long. Even when grief was fresh, when others hurt you, you never fell into anger._

Naomi shrugged. “I’m bad at staying angry.”

The deer stomped a foot. _Why is it bad, to not be angry?_

Naomi shook her head. “It’s not a bad thing. I _like_ that I don’t stay angry. It means I can be…”

_Serene._

Naomi swallowed. “Yes. I suppose it does.” The spirit… Serenity, remained silent, allowing Naomi to consider everything it had said. And she realized it was right. More and more often Naomi felt happy, even serene. Like when she was riding Liberty, or when she laughed with Nassella or Dorian or Varric. When she discovered a new use for an herb or listened to Dagna’s excited exclamations of her own discoveries, when James laughed and hugged her, when Cullen held her, looked into her eyes and whispered that he loved her…

_You choose to focus on what is good, what makes you happy. It brings you peace._

“I’m not the only one who does that. Everyone tries to find good things.”

_True. But not all succeed. Your brother struggles to find peace._

“You know James?” Naomi asked. “How?” And how long had this spirit been following her?

Serenity flicked its tail. _It was him I found first. His memories were strange, his pain deep. I tried to calm him. I do not believe I succeeded._

That didn’t surprise Naomi. She knew how her brother felt about being in Thedas, how much he hated Corypheus. That wasn’t something that would easily disappear, it wasn’t something he could ignore. “How did you try to help him?”

_I gave him an opportunity to move forward, to let go of the woman he left behind._

“Why don’t you think it worked?”

Serenity looked away, for the first time in several minutes. _He wants another woman he thinks he cannot have._

Naomi shook her head. She could not make sense of her brother and Nassella. If James wanted to be with Nassella, then Naomi didn’t know why he was with Mayra. She had always had a difficult time understanding why people stayed with those they didn’t see a future with. And though Nassella had admitted she had feelings for James, she chose to stay with Solas. At least Nassella had genuine feelings for the other elf, but Naomi had still seen some of the glances Nassella sent toward James.

Naomi wished they would just _talk_ to each other. But she also recognized why they wouldn’t, why staying silent could be considered the better option. She’d used silence to guard herself often enough.

“Have you tried to help him again?”

Serenity looked back. _No. It is difficult for me to influence dreams. I do not do it often._

“Ah,” Naomi said. “Have you… helped anyone else?”

_Yes._

“Who?”

Serenity flicked its ears. _I gave you a chance to say goodbye._

* * *

 

Cullen lay in his bed, watching with a small smile on his lips while a wisp of Naomi’s hair moved gently across the pillow with each slow breath that she took, continuing to marvel that he woke to find her next to him each morning. He’d already known how good it was sleeping next to her, but to fall asleep after a night of making love, to wake still naked and tangled together, ready to start again… He wasn’t sure he could imagine anything more satisfying.

Of course, that was only if he didn’t consider the actual act of making love to her. He remembered the previous night, how Naomi had gasped and moaned when he tasted her, the force of her hips beneath his hands and mouth when she came. His cock shift slightly, responding to the memory, and he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

But that could wait. She was still sleeping, and they weren’t currently entwined, weren’t even touching. They had moved away from each other sometime during the night, either from overheating or restless dreaming… perhaps she had needed to relieve herself. It didn’t matter. It just meant he could look at her instead.

She was on her stomach, arms wrapped around her pillow, lips slightly parted, bare to the waist, the exposed skin of her back begging him to touch. But he didn’t want to startle or wake her, so he contented himself with studying the tattoo marking her back left shoulder.

He’d first noticed it the morning after their first time, when the light of day and her nakedness made it hard to miss when she turned away from him. It was simple, a few curved lines forming the front half of a bear in russet ink. She had smiled when he asked about it later that day, saying it was a replicate of a drawing found in caves on Earth, painted by humans thousands of years before. It connected her, she had said, to those early humans, reminding her that all people were united by ancestry, that if you went back far enough everyone was the same.

She'd shown him her second tattoo as well, a tuft of grasses and yellow and purple flowers on her right ankle. A collection of her favorite plants from home she had explained with a sad smile, a finger gently caressing the wispy lines. He’d found it a little strange, to have plants permanently marked on skin, but he had to admit that it was beautiful. He’d asked why she hadn’t mentioned her tattoos before. She had just shrugged, saying she didn’t think about them often, covered as they usually were. They’d gotten distracted after that, as they were still naked, finally free to act on desires they had been holding back.

And act they did. Cullen wondered, as Naomi began to stir, if it was too much, if he should perhaps hold back that morning and give them a break. But as she sighed, shifted, turned on her side toward him revealing a breast and a flash of her blue-green eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be the one to suggest such a thing.

She grinned as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling their bodies together. “Goedemorgen liefje,” she murmured, the endearment causing his heart to beat faster. But the sound of her voice, rough from sleep, her skin against his from toes to breast, sent all the blood rushing to Cullen’s groin, his cock quickly hard and pressed between them. Her grin grew.

“Good morning love,” he responded huskily, trailing his hand down her back and ass to gently tickle the sensitive skin of her upper thigh. She arched her back, bucking slightly against him. He chuckled.

“Not fair,” she giggled. But she lifted a leg over his, pressing her hips against his arousal. He groaned and closed his eyes. It didn’t appear as if she was in a mood to turn him away that morning, and he thanked the Maker for it. He felt her fingers in his hair.

“Are you feeling all right?” she whispered. “Did you have good dreams?”

He looked into her eyes, throat constricting slightly. She always asked about his dreams, inquired to make sure his night had not been overly taxing. “No dreams are good dreams.” She nodded, and Cullen slowly worked a hand toward the apex of her legs, testing her willingness. “And you?” She closed her eyes, adjusting her leg to give him better access to her folds, an opening he quickly took advantage of.

“Yes... I finally… talked to a deer that has been… visiting me…” she let out a long sigh, encouraging Cullen to increase the enthusiasm of his manipulations, her sex already wet. “It said its name was Serenity, and…,” she trailed off, fingertips running along his scalp, sending his heart racing. Cullen slipped a finger inside her and she gasped, moving against him, a fresh wave of heat and wet flowing from her, matched by heat building in his own body. “Cullen, please,” she gasped. “I don’t… want to wait…”

“Yes,” he groaned, rolling over her, settling between her thighs spread before him. He took a moment to look at her, appreciate every curve of her body, every freckle marking the normally hidden areas of her skin, the scar on her thigh…

Sometimes it still caught him off guard, to find Naomi in his bed, to find her beneath him. Meeting her was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, and he was still surprised she allowed him into her life in this way.

And she didn’t just allow him. She _wanted_ him. Wanted him now.

He lowered himself, used a hand to guide himself to her entrance. He entered her slowly, relishing the way her walls took him, inch by inch, heat and moisture and friction enveloping him entirely. Her hands clutched at his back, her legs circled his body, pulled their bodies flush together. He loved the _closeness_ he felt to her in these moments, the way he could hear every quiet sigh, smell her sweat and arousal, feel every tiny movement of her body as they shifted together, _moved_ together.

He couldn’t move slowly for long. No, he had to increase their pace, encouraged by her soft moans and wandering hands, to push them higher, drive them to a point where nothing mattered but their joining and the pleasure they gave, received, the joy in being together...

He knew Naomi was close when she could no longer contain the volume of her voice, when her cries broke from her throat, her eyes closed. Cullen gripped the sheets, watched her face for the moment she came undone, felt it in the way her body thrust against his, the way her sex clenched even tighter around his cock…

Cullen groaned, lost himself in her, tension already wound tight pushed beyond a point where he could hold back. He spilled himself inside of her, moved until he was spent, cock growing soft. Only then did he relax, allow himself to settle his weight on top of her, body still aching with aftershocks of pleasure, thinking that it wasn’t possible to love her more.

He quickly came back to himself, remembered that he weighed much more than Naomi, and lifted himself away from her. But not so much that he couldn’t feel the way her chest and stomach were still heaving from their exertions.

She smiled at him, stroked his jaw. “Well,” she said softly. “This just seems to get better every time.”

Cullen laughed softly, moving down to kiss her. “Yes, it does.” He withdrew from her body, cradling her in his arm and pulling her close, feeling slightly drowsy despite only just waking. For several moments they just lay in the bed, hearts slowly calming, sweat cooling on their skin.

“I feel a little foolish, for making you wait as long as I did,” Naomi finally whispered, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

Cullen frowned. “Naomi, don’t ever feel bad about that. I didn’t mind waiting.”

“I know, I just meant…” She bit her lip and looked away. “I just meant that, if I had known just _how_ much I would enjoy having sex with you…” She glanced back. “Well… then I probably would have gotten around my excuses a lot sooner.”

Cullen smiled, cock twitching despite just spending himself. But her gaze, her proximity, her confession… it was quickly building him back up for another go. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here now.”

And then Naomi shifted her hips slightly, and Cullen found himself half-hard again. Naomi raised her eyebrows and smirked. “God Cullen…” she teased. “We just finished.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmured back, trailing a hand from her backside to her neck. “I also enjoy having sex with you. No,” he corrected. “I enjoy making love to you.”

She blushed. “The sun’s already up… we’ll be late…” But she rolled her hips against him again. It would take a few more minutes before he was ready to have her again, but now it was all Cullen could think about.

“We’ll have time if we skip breakfast.”

“I suppose…” But there was no hesitation in her voice.

“Big plans for the day?” he asked, bringing his mouth to her neck.

“Dennet said I could… have the afternoon off if I… finished my work early. I was going to… start an experiment…” Naomi managed to gasp as he worked at the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” he breathed into her, already knowing her answer.

She let out a frustrated growl, but pulled him closer. “No.”

Cullen growled back, pulling her back into a deep kiss. He had plans for the day as well, but he reasoned they could wait. There were currently far more important matters to attend to.

 

* * *

 

“That’s the fourth morning in a row Cullen’s been late for training,” Bull mused. James looked up from inspecting the blade of his sword for nicks and rust. He could see Cullen just exiting his tower, setting a brisk pace as he crossed the walls toward where James was sitting with Varric and Bull on the training grounds.

“So?”

“So,” Bull said, looking toward Varric with a grin. “I believe I won the pot.”

“You don’t know…” Varric started to protest.

“Come on Varric. He’s never been late for training before, they disappear early every night, and half the time they don’t take a midday meal in the main hall. They’re _doing_ it. Pay up.”

“I’m still going to need verbal confirmation before I hand over anything,” Varric said with a shake of his head. “Dorian won’t give up based on a few observations by you either.”

“Fine. Do you want to be the one to ask Cullen?”

“What about Freckles?”

“Nah. I don’t want to bother her with that sort of question.”

James shook his head, only half-listening to the conversation. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Remember that bet about your sister and Cullen…”

James blinked. _Oh…_

“...Well, I’ve officially won…”

“Unofficially,” Varric interrupted. “For all you know Dorian won… or they’ve just been lazy these past few days.”

Bull laughed. “No. No way they were having sex already three weeks ago. And Cullen’s not lazy. He would need a very good reason to be late. And Naomi would be a _very_ good reason…”

James had tried to tune out the rest of Bull and Varric’s argument, but in doing so he had looked away and so was able to see Naomi leaving Cullen’s tower in the opposite direction, jogging slightly as she headed toward the stables, hands still tying her hair into a braid. As much as he reasoned it was perfectly normal for Naomi to sleep with the man she loved, he didn’t want to think about it, and he certainly didn’t want to hear others t _alk_ about it.

“…what was so special about four days ago? I still think they’ll wait until Cullen has to leave for Halamshiral…”

Bull snorted. “You think too much like a novelist. They didn’t need to wait until they had to leave each other. They just needed a little more time…”

“Can you two stop?!” James finally snapped. Both other men stared at him a moment, eyebrows raised. Then Bull shrugged. Varric smiled as someone approached.

“You Inquisitorialness, how can we help you?”

“Actually,” Bull chimed in, “maybe you can help us settle an argument.”

James groaned inwardly.

“I can try,” Nassella offered.

“What’s the deal with Curly and Freckles?” Varric asked.

“I’m not sure I…”

“Are they having sex?” Bull asked bluntly. “And when did they start.”

Nassella flushed red. “Bull! That’s not for me to…”

“I’ll just ask one of them then,” the Qunari said with a wave of his hand.

Nassella sighed and crossed her arms. “Why do you want to know?”

“They bet on it,” James grumbled, not trusting either of the two men to fess up. To his surprise, Nassella laughed softly.

“I really need to find more work for you two, if you’re passing time betting on other people’s sex lives…” She took a moment to consider, looking between Bull and Varric with her brows pulled slightly together. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But only because I know you’ll pester them about it if I don’t… Actually, you’ll still probably pester them anyway.”

Bull just shrugged. Varric tried not to grin.

“Four days ago, after we played football.”

“I knew it!” Bull exclaimed down toward Varric. “Pay up!”

“Fine, fine,” Varric conceded. “But I know Blackwall won’t tell Ruffles until the ball.”

“And I still think he’ll wait until after…”

Nassella laughed. “You’re both wrong. Josie will tell him first.”

Bull turned toward Nassella with an eyebrow raised. “You think so?”

“I agree,” James offered, flushing immediately afterward. He didn’t want to get involved…

“Oh really?” Varric asked him.

“Yeah,” James mumbled. “It’s pretty obvious they both like each other. If Blackwall hasn’t said anything yet, he’s probably not planning on it. Josephine will crack first.”

“Exactly,” Nassella agreed.

“You want in Boss?” Bull asked.

“I… don’t think that would be appropriate,” Nassella said slowly. She turned toward James with a smile. “But James could take the bet.”

“No,” James said firmly, glaring at Bull’s grin. “I’m not getting involved. It’s ridiculous.”

“Fine, fine,” Bull said. “So Boss, what’s up?”

“Right,” Nassella said, shaking her head slightly. “I came to tell you Bull that we’ll be leaving tomorrow for Caer Oswin. Cassandra has tracked the remaining Seekers there. We need to investigate why they have disappeared. Also, I need to get away from these constant lessons in the Game or I’ll go mad…”

“No problem Boss.”

James waited for Nassella to turn toward him, but when she said goodbye and began to walk away he realized she was not going to ask him to come along.

Confused, he stood and jogged after her, catching her by the stairs to the walls. “Ness!” he called. She stopped and turned, crossing her arms.

“Yes?”

Thrown off slightly by her defensive posture, James shook his head. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

He frowned. “Aren’t I coming along too?”

Nassella looked away. “No, you’re not.”

For a moment, James didn’t know what to say. She always asked him along on her excursions. “Why not?” he finally found the voice to ask. “I’ve come every other time…”

“It will be a short mission,” Nassella explained, still avoiding his gaze. “I don’t need you to write reports. I know enough to write my own…”

“You haven’t needed me to write reports for months,” James defended. “You bring me along because I can fight…” He frowned. “Did I do something wrong? Ness, whatever it is, I’ll do better…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong James,” she said, shaking her head as she finally looked back toward him, though her arms remained crossed. “This isn’t a punishment. I just think you should stay behind this time.”

James still didn’t understand, couldn’t accept that he really wasn’t going. Everything he had done, everything he had learned had been so he could fight, so he could help Nassella and the Inquisition defeat Corypheus. He couldn’t do that while in Skyhold. Not while Nassella was out fighting, putting herself in danger. “I can’t stay behind,” he argued. “We’ve gotten used to fighting together. I’ve helped so many times. You need me…”

“No, I don’t!” she nearly shouted. Her face immediately started turning red. James’ throat had stopped working. “I don’t need you to fight,” she said more quietly, voice carefully controlled. “I can protect myself, and I will have Cassandra, Bull, and Solas there to help. Please do not argue with me. I will not change my mind on this.”

James felt his chest tighten, painfully squeezing his heart. “So you just don’t want me there,” he said quietly, crossing his arms. Why would she? She was right, after all. She didn’t _need_ him to fight. Sure, he was useful with his fade-touched skin, but Bull had his size and experience, Cassandra was a Seeker, and Solas had magic. Everyone else was useful too.

Nassella sighed, rubbing a hand across her face. “James… it’s not that either. I just…” She looked at him, eyes wide and sad. “I just can’t…” She stopped herself with a shake of her head. Then she dropped her hands and took a step toward him. “I want you to be happy James,” she said. “That’s why I want you to have a break. You have hardly had any time to relax in months, hardly any time when you weren’t in danger. And you just found out your family died…”

“Ness, that’s the same for you too,” he said, arguing despite her request not to. “You’ve had no breaks either. Your family is also gone…”

“I’m the Inquisitor,” she said with a shrug. “I can’t afford to take a break. But you…” She looked at him sadly. “Please James… I want you to stay here. Eat food not cooked over a fire, sleep in a bed. Spend time with Naomi. Spend time with… with Mayra…” She looked away, crossing her arms again. “I will need you before this is over,” she said softly. “But I’ll need you at your best. So please… just take a break.”

James wanted to argue, felt the words building up in his throat. He wanted to say that he could never really relax, knowing she was out fighting and in danger while he was safely behind Skyhold’s walls. He wanted to say that he couldn’t bear to watch her leave, to think that he could do nothing to help her. He wanted to say that as long as she couldn’t relax, as long as she was forced to travel and fight, he would too, that she didn’t have to be the only one who was strong, didn’t have to do everything alone.

But all of those words might reveal how he felt, hint at how much he loved her. He was just her friend, and a friend wouldn’t argue so much. He was someone who worked for her, and a soldier would follow the orders of his Inquisitor.

It pained him, but he swallowed his words and nodded. “I understand.”

She nodded, cleared her throat. “Thank you. Now… if you’ll excuse me, I have much to prepare…”

“Ness,” James called softly. Nassella sighed, but looked at him. It scared him, to think that when she left, he might never see her again. “Just… have a good trip, and…” He tried to smile. “Come back.”

Her lips started to turn up in a smile, though her brows also came together. “Of course I’ll come back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goedemorgen liefje = Good morning love/darling (I’m going to be a little loose with the translation here [sorry Dutch speakers!]. I essentially want Naomi to call Cullen darling, but I like liefje a little better than some of the other alternatives.)


	78. Templars

Cullen followed Naomi down the flight of stairs, the sound of their boots impacting the ancient stones echoing from the equally weathered walls. The air grew damper, colder as they descended, reminding Cullen of just how high they were in the mountains. It was sometimes easy to forget walking through the yards and gardens of Skyhold warmed by the summer sun that cold was never far away, that it returned every night, lingered in the underground portions of the fortress, and made winters harsher than any Cullen had ever experienced.

“Good afternoon,” Naomi said quietly to the guard stationed outside the wooden door to the dungeons. The man straightened at the sight of them.

“Commander, I was expecting you this morning…”

“We were delayed,” Cullen said, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck. Delayed because he couldn’t keep his hands off of Naomi that morning, couldn’t keep his lips away from hers. And she had been less than discouraging, smiling and laughing and always realigning her hips perfectly with his…

It meant he had been late to his morning meeting with Leliana and Josephine, and then the meeting had dragged on as they discussed details of their upcoming journey to Orlais and the Winter Palace. Even with the Inquisitor gone the work had seemed endless.

When he had finally found Naomi in the undercroft she had been frazzled, muttering to herself as she cleaned out the cages she had lined up against an unused wall, now empty of rats. When he asked where they had gone, she had let out a long, frustrated breath, and then proceeded to explain with more anger than he often heard in her voice that Sera had felt the need to release her experiment the night before, and then laughed and refused to apologize when Naomi confronted her about it…

Dagna had finally convinced Sera to leave Naomi’s things alone in the future, but the damage was done. Naomi had finally calmed, and Cullen had spent the next hour helping her set up traps around the fortress, so she could capture more rats and start the experiment again. And then it had been time for their midday meal, which meant it was the afternoon before they finally made their way down to the dungeons.

Of course, Cullen would have gladly taken more delays, would have taken endless delays. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to watch as Naomi tried to help the man who had attacked her. But she was determined, and he was determined to keep her safe, to make sure no further harm came to her. Still, he couldn’t help but reach for her shoulder, stop her before they moved through the final door to the dungeon proper, to try and convince her one last time that she didn’t need to do this…

“Naomi,” he said. “I can still bring him the potion, ask him your questions…”

“Cullen,” she said softly, “he can’t hurt me.”

“But he can say things. Even just seeing him could be painful.”

She sighed. “Cullen… I spent half of my life seeing a man who assaulted me whenever my family got together, pretending that nothing was wrong, that I was happy to see him. I’ll be fine seeing Alec. At least I won’t have to pretend to be happy…”

“Naomi,” Cullen said softly, trying to pull her closer. She resisted him.

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” She looked back to the door, reaching for the handle. “I don’t want to feel sorry about that anymore.”

Despite what she said he still felt it as she moved through the final door, a lingering tightening of his chest when he thought about what had happened to her as a child. What had happened to her in Thedas. But he knew she was right. He couldn’t let those feelings linger, couldn’t focus on the past. She wasn’t.

The guard watching the largely unoccupied cells stood when they entered, clearly surprised to find them there. “Commander!” he exclaimed, placing a clenched fist over his chest. “I was expecting you…”

“This morning, yes, I know,” Cullen said. “We were delayed.”

“I just thought perhaps you had changed your mind,” the man said.

“No. We still wish to speak with him…”

“What’s wrong with him?” Naomi called from across the room. Cullen looked to see her staring into one of the cells, brow furrowed, clutching the bottles and papers she had brought with her to her chest. Cullen moved to her side, looking into the cell.

Alec was there, lying on the floor, red hair greasy and obscuring his face, his clothes dirty from months spent in a cell. Cullen noted that his once well-muscled body was withered far more than simple disuse could accomplish.

The man was sick, Cullen realized. Alec’s skin was pale and he shook, rocked slightly as he clenched his hands together in front of his face, muttering under his breath. Then he fell into a coughing fit, long and labored. When it ended he returned to his muttering and rocking. Not once had he acknowledged their presence.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi repeated again with more urgency.

“It’s what happens, without…” The words died on his lips. He had not seen a Templar so far gone in years…

“Let me in!” he heard Naomi say, sensed her turning.

“Sorry miss, but I can’t…”

“Let me in,” she repeated. “He needs help!”

“I can’t…”

“Cullen.” He felt her hand on his arm and looked away from the dying Templar into her blue-green eyes, glowing with anger. “Tell him to let me in. He’s in no state to do anything to me.”

Cullen clenched his fists but nodded. He looked back to the cell as the guard fiddled with his keys until finding the correct one, then followed Naomi as she rushed into the cell and to Alec’s side. Cullen watched as she hesitated, then reached for the man’s shoulder.

“Alec,” she said softly. “Can you hear me? I have something that will help you…”

At her touch Alec started, shied away. He struggled to sit up, looking toward Naomi with furtive glances. “Who are you?” he asked, voice a weak rasp.

Naomi glanced back toward Cullen, brows pulled together, then back to Alec. “Um… my name’s Naomi…”

“What do you want?”

“I have something for you. It will help...,” Naomi said as she moved to open the vial containing a dose of potion.

Quicker than Cullen expected, Alec snatched the container away from Naomi. She dropped her hands and Alec fumbled with the stopper, mumbling under his breath. But he paused as he brought it to his lips, staring at the pale green liquid in disbelief.

Then his features twisted, snarl settling on his face. “No!” he yelled suddenly, hurling the vial toward the wall. Cullen took a step forward, wincing slightly as the glass shattered, scattering around the cell. “You said it would help! That can’t help! It needs to be _blue…_ ”

“No,” Naomi said, voice slightly raised. “It would help…”

Alec reached forward, grabbed Naomi’s arm and pulled her toward him. “I need lyrium,” he snarled, eyes wide beneath the tangled strands of his hair. Naomi pulled back, but Alec’s grip was firm.

“Let me go,” she said slowly, deliberately. But Cullen wasn’t going to wait to see if the man would listen. He was already far too close to her.

In two steps Cullen was between them, reaching to pry Alec’s hand from Naomi. Cullen loosened the other man’s grip enough for Naomi to pull free, then hauled the former Templar to his feet. Cullen pressed him against the wall as the man continued to beg for lyrium.

“Please, I need it. Just a taste. To make it stop…”

“You will never have lyrium again,” Cullen said gruffly. “You abused its power.”

Alec met his gaze, and Cullen saw the moment the man’s memory returned enough to recognize him. Alec growled, then spat in his face. “You did this to me!” he yelled, struggling to break free. “You and that mage bitch you’re fucking. And that fucking knife-ear cu-!”

Cullen dropped the man heavily, stopping his tirade short. He turned and guided Naomi from the cell, shutting the door behind them with a loud clang. He turned the key still in the lock, trying to ignore the profanities Alec continued to spew from the floor of his cell, until he fell once more into coughing. When he quieted, Alec huddled on the floor, sobbing.

Cullen stared at the man, gripping the bars of the cell, suddenly aware of the itch, the longing that was always in the back of his mind. He could ignore it most days, but the craving for lyrium was always there. He didn’t know if it would ever truly be gone.

But he remembered how powerful the urges had been when he first gave up lyrium, how impossible they were to ignore. And the pain. Even now, he could feel his head begin to pound, his joints start to ache. He wasn’t sure if that would ever leave him either.

“He’s sick!” he heard Naomi say. “How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know miss, a few weeks…” the guard answered.

“And you didn’t say anything?!”

“Beggin’ your pardon miss, but it’s not my place to…”

“To what?! Notice that the man you’re guarding is dying!?”

“My orders are to guard him, nothing more. He’s being weaned off lyrium. Everyone knows that isn’t pretty.”

“You don’t need fucking orders to have some basic decency and send for a healer. He wasn’t sentenced to _die._ ”

“I don’t take orders from you miss. I just guard the prisoners.”

“Cullen. Please.”

Cullen finally looked away from the other former Templar. Naomi was angry, nostrils flaring slightly as she looked at him, _pleaded_ with him to do something.

“Send for healers,” he told the guard. “And others, to restrain him while they work.”

“Yes Commander.”

When the guard was gone, Cullen turned to Naomi. “We should remove the glass,” she said, no longer yelling, staring at Alec. “He could hurt himself.”

“The others will see to it. There’s nothing more you can do here…”

“I should have come sooner,” she said, clenching her jaw. “ _You_ should have let me come sooner.” Then she turned and walked toward the door.

She was angry. With _him._ He hadn’t realized because he had been so focused on Alec, on himself, seeing what could become of those who were removed from lyrium’s hold…

He caught her in the hall. “Naomi…”

“You knew,” she said, turning toward him, eyes shining. “You knew this could happen to him.”

Cullen swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then why did you hesitate so long? I could have helped him weeks ago and now… now…”

Cullen didn’t know what to say. She was right. He should have let her help the man sooner. But he hadn’t wanted her to, because Alec had hurt her, and he wanted the man to hurt as well. His face heated with shame, but he couldn’t bear to admit that truth to her.

All he could do was promise himself that he would never keep her from helping someone again.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

And then she slid down the wall to the ground, covering her face as she began to sob. Cullen dropped to her level, hands gripping her shoulders.

“Naomi, please forgive me. You must believe I did not know he would take ill…”

“I know Cullen, I just…” she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “What if… what if you…”

Cullen frowned, his throat tightening. She had finally seen it, what giving up lyrium could truly mean. “That won’t happen Naomi. I am past the worst.”

“But what if you’re not? I know you lie to me, Cullen. I know you don’t tell me how much pain you’re in, every time you have headaches, when you wake in the middle of the night from nightmares. Herbs don’t even help you as much anymore. You are not past it. Lyrium is more than just a drug, I know it. Something could happen. You could go back…”

“Naomi,” Cullen said, taking her cheek in his hand. “I will not end up like Alec. I will survive this.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insisted. “Alec was alone, forced to give up lyrium… But this was my choice. And I have you.” It was a crucial difference, he realized.

She stared at him a moment, lip trembling. But she eventually nodded. “Ok.”

The door leading to the dungeons opened, and Cullen looked to see two healers enter, followed by three soldiers. Naomi sniffed, and when Cullen turned back to her she was wiping the tears from her face. He helped her stand, her hand gripping his. When the others had passed, she spoke.

“I’m still going to help him,” she said quietly. “He’s not going to be alone anymore either.”

“Naomi…”

“No Cullen,” she said. She looked at him, determination settling into her eyes. “He is not going to die.” She shook her head. “He can’t.”

  

* * *

 

 

Naomi rode through Skyhold’s gate, guiding Liberty carefully past a cart laden with cloth and metals, a shipment of supplies from somewhere in Orlais. It was nearly dark, the sun already set behind the mountains, casting the sky in shades of soft oranges and blues. Most everyone had already finished their tasks for the day, a few stragglers hurrying to complete final work so they could take their evening meal. Naomi hurried as well, dismounting from Liberty at the stables. She was hungry, and an uncomfortable pain growing in her abdomen meant she had to find cloth for her underclothes soon, lest she want a bloody mess between her legs.

Painful as the arrival of her period would be, Naomi had to admit she was relieved as well. It meant she wasn’t pregnant, that the tea had at least worked for the past week.

Of course… it could also just be further evidence that she would never get pregnant.

But she couldn’t worry about that right now. She wouldn’t know for sure that she couldn’t have children until she stopped taking the herbs Nassella had showed her.

Naomi worked quickly to settle Liberty for the night, though she was sure to thoroughly brush the sweat and dust from her coat. She had taken the horse on a long ride after leaving Alec in the dungeons, descending down the valleys and ridges until she reached the trees. She had needed time alone, away from Cullen and everyone else to think about what had happened, what she needed to do.

She’d known giving up lyrium was bad. Everyone said so, Cullen said so. Giving up any drug was painful, but she had never actually seen anyone suffering from withdrawal. Even Cullen at his worse had never acted in such a way, never been so sick. Naomi didn’t even know if it was the withdrawal that made Alec sick. But she felt it in her gut that it had contributed, that he wouldn’t have fallen ill if he had not been weakened by lyrium’s absence.

But worse was the way he had looked at her, the way he _hadn’t_ looked at her. He hadn’t recognized her, after everything that had happened… Alec didn’t remember her.

He had remembered Cullen, eventually, but Naomi couldn’t forget how blank his expression had been, how the once proud man had moved away from her in fear. And she couldn’t forget how quickly that had all changed, how he had become angry and belligerent the moment he realized she had not brought him lyrium.

It was horrible. She couldn’t believe something like this had been allowed to happen to a person within Skyhold.

And she couldn’t help but imagine Cullen like Alec, thought about him sick and weak, begging for lyrium, groveling on the floor, looking at her and not remembering her face, not recognizing someone he loved…

She couldn’t lose Cullen, not like that. He said it wouldn’t happen, and Naomi wanted to believe him. But she still feared the worst.

It meant she had to save Alec. She had to find a way to ease his symptoms. Everyone seemed to accept that giving up lyrium would be painful, that it was necessary. But Naomi didn’t believe that. There was always something that could be done, more research that could reveal herbs or treatments that would make things easier. It didn’t have to be a death sentence.

She had considered it was strange, on her ride, to want to help Alec so much. Cullen certainly thought it strange, and James as well. But despite what Alec had wanted to do, Naomi couldn’t find it in herself to leave him to suffer, especially now that she had seen him.

People could change, but they had to be given a chance. Sometimes several chances. And being left to die was not a chance.

And Cullen… She had still been a little angry with him when she had first left Skyhold’s gates. He’d known, and yet he had tried to keep her away.

Of course, that anger had not lasted long. She was too worried about him, loved him too much. And she knew he was not without compassion. He was only trying to protect her.

Naomi finished with Liberty, giving the mare a good rubbing on the head, smiling when she remembered that the horse was hers, truly hers and no one else’s. Liberty was not only her most valuable possession, but one of the first friends she had ever made in Thedas, and Naomi would never have to leave her behind.

Naomi was one of the last ones to dinner after attending to her own care, but managed to find a seat next to James. Her brother was poor conversation, having been sullen ever since Nassella left the day before with Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Solas, leaving James behind. Naomi doubted he even remembered that she had been planning to see Alec that day. She hoped he would cheer up, take advantage of being in Skyhold and not spend the entirely of the time Nassella was gone pouting about her absence.

Varric took his place when James left, the dwarf asking about how seeing to Alec had gone.

“It… didn’t go that well. Alec is sick and wouldn’t take the potion I brought. Healers are seeing to him, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. And Cullen…”

“Curly will be fine,” Varric assured her. “He’s been determined since the day he stopped taking lyrium, and making it this far says a lot.”

Naomi pushed the last bites of the druffalo pie she had been eating around her plate. “That’s what Cullen said too. But I don’t know…” She looked up at Varric and sighed. “I didn’t realize just how bad it could be.”

“Yeah,” Varric said. “There’s a reason Templars don’t usually leave the Order. That blue stuff grips them tight from the moment they take their vows.”

Naomi frowned. “They know what would happen, before they take it? They are told the consequences before they become full Templars?”

“I couldn’t say for sure. I’m not a Templar. But I’m sure they hear stories, at least, even if they’re not told.”

“They should be told. No one should make a choice like that if they don’t know what could happen.”

“Templars don’t really expect to leave once they join the Order. And they believe they’re serving the Maker, which requires sacrifices.”

Naomi shook her head. “I don’t believe the Maker would want that sort of sacrifice. I can’t believe that.”

“You won’t get an argument from me.” Varric drained his glass, then winked. “Well, have a good night. Curly was asking about you around an hour ago, but no one had seen you. I think I saw him head to his office not long after.”

Naomi blushed as Varric rambled off. It seemed the fact that she and Cullen were having sex was no longer a secret. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She hadn’t told anyone other than Nassella, and she highly doubted Cullen had said anything, but they had spent more time in his loft than ever before, and they were late to leave every morning. Dennet had already commented on her tardiness at least twice. It was no surprise that others had noticed as well, and logically concluded what they were doing.

Once Varric was out of sight Naomi stood. She had no reason to be embarrassed. She was a grown woman, in love with someone who loved her back, and she could have sex with him all she wanted.

_But not tonight,_ Naomi thought as she went to find Cullen after changing her blood-stained cloths. They wouldn’t be having sex for several nights.

Cullen was leaning over his desk when she entered, and he smiled when he saw it was her. “How was your ride?”

“Good,” Naomi said, crossing to join him. “I need to remember to get out more often.”

“I’ll try to help remind you,” he said. Naomi smiled and Cullen reached for her hand. “Are you feeling better?” he asked. “I’m sorry today didn’t go quite as planned. Anything you need going forward, just ask.”

Naomi smiled wider, and wrapped her arms around his neck, relieved she would no longer have to fight him when it came to Alec. “Thank you Cullen.”

Cullen pulled her closer by her hips, eyes dropping to her lips, and Naomi closed the distance. Cullen sighed into her mouth, lifted a hand to the back of her neck, and pulled them together, capturing her lips between his, tugging slightly every time he adjusted. Naomi clutched his neck, pushed herself against him, heart racing as their kiss continued to deepen, his tongue gently probing into her mouth, one of his hands seeking her skin beneath her clothes.

And despite the fact that her gut was twisting with pain, that she was bleeding, Naomi felt herself responding, felt the way every swipe of his tongue, every caress from his hands, every breath breathed into her mouth left her aching to feel his skin next to hers, hear his groans in her ear, feel his cock inside of her…

She pulled back for a breath and Cullen trailed his lips up her jaw. “We should go upstairs,” he murmured into her ear, sending shivers through every nerve of her body. “I can finish this work tomorrow…” Naomi sighed in frustration. She was going to enjoy her period less, now that it meant she couldn’t have Cullen.

“Not tonight,” she whispered, pulling reluctantly away. She watched as Cullen quickly tried to hide the disappointment on his face, distanced himself from her body.

“Wha-? Why…?” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I mean, of course, if that is what you want. I… I know you were upset earlier…”

“Cullen,” Naomi interrupted, reaching to stroke his jaw, look him in the eyes. “I’m not angry. It’s just… a little bloody down there at the moment.”

She watched the understanding wash over Cullen’s face in a slow wave, followed by a deep blush.

“Oh. I see,” he finally said before looking away. His reaction made Naomi laugh.

“Cullen… we’ve seen each other naked. I’ve talked about my period before. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s a perfectly natural thing.”

“I know,” Cullen said, managing a small smile. “I had just forgotten we would have to abstain for that.”

Naomi laughed again. “Don’t worry. In five or six days we’ll be able to have sex as much as we want for nearly a month.”

Cullen’s grin turned heated, and in the next moment his mouth returned to her ear, his hands gripped her waist and ass. “Is that a promise?”

Naomi thought she might fall over, the way his voice, pitched deep and volume low, made her face go numb, the strength banished from her limbs. Cullen could be hesitant when it came to their physical relationship, but just as often he was equally passionate, moments of confidence, like this one, leaving her entirely in awe that _she_ was the one he wanted.

“It is now,” she said, surprised at the thick cast to her own voice, betraying how he had affected her with just a few words and a touch. Cullen made her feel _good_ , and she wanted him to feel just as good too, if not better, when he was with her…

She doubted he knew how much he had helped her, how he had allowed her to discover how much she could enjoy her body. Something that had brought her shame and uncertainty for nearly as long as she could remember was now a source of pleasure, a way to express her love. With Cullen, she could feel beautiful and sexy and w _anted_ without fear.

She silently cursed whatever evolutionary force had decided that giving women monthly periods was an advantage.

Though… since evolution had decided it, she knew it _was_ an advantage, somehow.

Cullen laughed, placed a small kiss on her lips, then pulled away still grinning. “Give me a few moments, there are actually a few things I should finish before turning in for the night.”

Naomi shook her head and grinned. “Maybe it’s a good thing we won’t be having sex for a few days. We might actually get some work done.”

Cullen chuckled and glanced up at her sheepishly before returning to the papers scattered across his desk. “I suppose we have been a bit distracted.”

“Yes, and I think the others are starting to notice.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I know Josephine and Leliana already have.”

“Have they said something?”

“The way they smirk at each other every time I enter the war room for a meeting says everything,” Cullen grumbled, putting his signature on a number of papers. “I imagine they only look past my tardiness so they can joke about it later.”

“Well, they’ll probably tease you for being on time too.”

“Maker I hope not.”

Naomi laughed as she ascended the ladder to Cullen’s loft, giving him a few moments of peace to finish his work. She removed her shirt and breastband, unwove her hair from its braid, and crawled into the bed only half-naked, more clothed than she had worn while sleeping in days. She sat up when Cullen finally climbed the ladder himself, smiling when his eyes roved over her chest. He let out a long sigh.

“You are not making this easy,” he muttered as he crossed the floor to his armor stand.

“Sorry,” Naomi said, not sorry at all as Cullen efficiently removed his armor and clothing, revealing his perfect body. “But I rather like sleeping naked.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t complain,” he said as he settled into the bed shirtless.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Naomi replied, rolling over and wrapping her arms around him, pressing their bodies together, sighing at the perfect flush of soft warmth his chest and arms provided against her own.

They still kissed, positioned as they were, but Cullen stopped them eventually, his cock hard and pressed against her stomach through his breeches. He moved his hips away from hers, his hand leaving her ass to grip her lower back.

“Five days you say?” he asked, taking several deep breaths.

“Or six. Seven if we’re unlucky.”

Cullen groaned, but nodded. Then he frowned, eyes opening to search hers. “Does it pain you, when you bleed? I know some women find it uncomfortable.”

“Usually just for the first day. The pain is already starting to fade.”

“That’s good.”

Naomi looked over Cullen’s own face, looking for any signs that he was in pain. “What about you? Any headaches tonight?”

Cullen sighed. “Earlier, when we were with Alec, I started to feel one. But it has since gone away.” Naomi raised an eyebrow and Cullen sighed again. “I’m sorry. It hasn’t completely gone away…”

Naomi reached to stroke his jaw. “Please don’t hide those things from me. I need the truth if I’m going to help you.”

Cullen nodded. “I know.”

For a moment they were silent, and Naomi’s mind wandered to that meeting with Alec once again, remembering why he had been taken off of lyrium in the first place…

“Cullen…” she said slowly, realizing she had not talked explicitly with Cullen about his time in Kirkwall. She knew he did not look fondly on that part of his life, and so she had not pried. “You said other Templars did what Alec did… took advantage of mages in the Circles?”

She felt Cullen tense, say him frown and look away from her eyes. “Yes,” he said softly. “I… did not realize the extent that it happened until Knight-Commander Meredith died and I was placed in charge.”

Naomi bit the inside of her lip. “How did… no one realize before?”

Cullen turned to his back, placing distance between their bodies. Naomi watched him close his eyes, brow furrow deeply. “I… believe the Knight-Commander did know, but chose to ignore their crimes.”

Naomi pulled the blankets over her body, tucked them beneath her chin. “Why would she do that?”

“She hated mages, distrusted them to a fault. They were less than human to her, so it didn’t matter if…”

“Templars raped them?”

Cullen was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

Naomi stared ahead, toward Cullen but not really seeing him. If Cullen was placed in charge after Meredith, that meant he had been second-in-command, or at least high up in the hierarchy. The implication of that brought an uncomfortable twist to her gut. She had known some of these things, after talking to Varric and Josephine, gleaning some information about the state of Kirkwall when the whole conflict between mages and Templars began. She knew Cullen had made mistakes… he had said so himself. She had accepted that, recognized that he was trying to do better, _was_ doing better, based on everything he had ever done since she had met him. But Naomi hadn’t really asked after details, had never asked exactly what he found so shameful about his past.

She still wasn’t sure she wanted to know. He had changed, and that was more important to Naomi than anything else. But the things that had happened in Kirkwall were indicative of larger issues, issues that had led this world to conflict.

Those things were worth asking about.

“Why do people hate mages so often?” Naomi asked. “I know it has to do with possession… but that hardly seems to happen.”

Cullen relaxed his brow slightly. “But when it does, horrible things happen. People die. It is enough for some to want nothing to do with mages.”

“But you don’t hate mages,” Naomi said. “And… well you’ve seen possessed mages.”

Cullen frowned again. “I did though,” he said quietly, pained. “When I left Ferelden I hated mages. I…” he swallowed. “I did not see them as fully human. It is why… it’s why Meredith made me her second,” he continued, voice raising slightly. “She saw the same distrust in me that she held and used that. She encouraged my hatred and I… I ignored what the Circle was becoming for so long… believed that the harsh measures she took were necessary to keep mages under control. Everything that happened at Kirkwall is because I was too blinded by anger to see what was happening…”

His voice was rushed, strained, and he had covered his face as his breathing increased. Naomi propped herself up, reached to touch him. If this is what he found so appalling about his past…

“Cullen,” she said softly, taking his shoulder beneath her hand. “Cullen it’s all right. You are not like that anymore. You’re a good person…”

“No,” he said, sitting up and putting even more distance between them. “I know what I am Naomi. A good person would not allow countless mages to be killed, made Tranquil, _raped_. It was my duty to _protect_ them and I failed…”

Naomi stared at him. She should be appalled, she considered, should want to put as much distance between herself and Cullen as she could. He had authority in Kirkwall, power to affect the lives of the mages he was guarding. And even if he had never personally hurt anyone, inaction could be just as dangerous…

But she didn’t want to leave. Despite what he said, Cullen _was_ good, and Naomi remembered that he had wanted to be a Templar from when he was eight, believe that joining would allow him to _help_ people. He’d been a child when he joined, taught from that day forward that the Templars were _good_ , doing important work. Naomi knew how powerful such socialization could be.

Then he’d been given lyrium, tied to the Order not just by vows, but by a substance that he likely believed he could not live without. A substance he could only get from the Chantry.

And then he had been tortured, watched an entire Circle fall into death and destruction when mages became possessed. She did not ask about those details either, but Naomi knew that expecting him to come away from such an experience with no anger or fear was ridiculous.

He _still_ had nightmares. He had confessed himself that he had not left that experience unchanged.

And when it mattered most… Cullen had made the right decision. Naomi had read Varric’s book, talked to Varric himself. Cullen had broken free from his hatred on his own, chose to find his way back to the person he truly was.

Naomi sat up herself, followed Cullen to where he was sitting, and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the way he tensed beneath her touch.

“You _are_ a good person,” she repeated. “You were a good person when you joined the Templars, and you are a good person now. You may have lost your way in the middle, but that doesn’t change what you are.”

“Naomi, I appreciate the thought…”

“Cullen, I’m not just saying that just to make you feel better. I _believe_ that. You were a child when you joined the Templars, didn’t think you could ever leave. You were _tortured_ , and someone took advantage of that…”

“You would not have reacted as I did,” Cullen said, bitterness tinging his voice. “I did not need to be so hateful.”

Naomi frowned. “You don’t know that,” she said. “I’ve never been tortured, but I would probably be angry too…”

Cullen turned toward her suddenly, his hand finding hers, gripping it tightly. “No, Naomi. You wouldn’t. When the Inquisitor visited the future, she found you there, with James.”

“I know…” Naomi said.

“She wrote a report about what she had seen… You had been tortured in that future. You were _dying._ ” Naomi couldn’t breathe. Nassella hadn’t told her those details. Cullen shook his head. “You were not angry Naomi. You told her not to blame the mages.”

Naomi swallowed thickly. “Well… I still understand why you were angry Cullen. Just because I wasn’t doesn’t mean you should have reacted the same way.”

Cullen shook his head, disbelief settling into his features. “I don’t deserve you,” he said gruffly.

Naomi’s chest clenched, squeezing her heart. “I just forgive people, Cullen. That’s nothing special.”

“In my experience, it is.”

Naomi didn’t know what to say, embarrassed under his continued gaze. So often she felt that _she_ was the one who didn’t deserve Cullen, and to hear that same sentiment from him…

She would just have to accept that they wanted each other, regardless if they deserved it or not.

“You deserve to be happy,” she finally said. “And if I make you happy, then you deserve that. Just like you make me happy.”

Cullen pulled her down to the bed, wrapping her into an embrace, her head pressed to his chest. “You do,” he murmured, burying a hand in her hair. “I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

Naomi clutched him back, content to just hold him while he held her. Slowly Cullen’s breathing steadied, his grip loosened, and Naomi realized he had fallen asleep. Adjusting her position slightly, making herself more comfortable, Naomi relaxed herself, started reaching toward the Fade, wondering if Serenity would make an appearance that night…

And opened her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath.

_He doesn’t know._

Naomi closed her eyes again, mind racing. She had never told Cullen how she dreamed, that she actually encountered demons and spirits while she was sleeping. Solas had told her she shouldn’t make her unique way of dreaming known, and so only James and Nassella knew… and Nassella only knew because of what had happened in Alec’s dream…

Naomi didn’t know what to do. She wanted to be honest, tell Cullen everything about herself, but this…

Cullen said he didn’t hate mages, but that didn’t mean he would want to have a relationship with one. She might not be a mage, but Naomi dreamed like them, even went beyond most mages in her ability to manipulate the Fade. And she had already been attacked by demons, could potentially be possessed. How would Cullen react, knowing she could become an abomination like those that had tortured him…?

_No. I would not become an abomination. I have fought demons off before, I haven’t given into their manipulations. I would die first._

But that might not matter. She just didn’t know what Cullen would think. And by this point, she hadn’t told him for months. Would he be angry with her, think she had deliberately tried to keep this secret from him? The possibility that he would leave her because of it…

Naomi let out a long breath. She didn’t know what to do.

_I need to talk to Nassella._

But she knew what Nassella would say. She would encourage her to be forthright. Naomi knew it was what she should do too. It was what she _wanted_ to do.

But… even if Cullen wasn’t angry, he might not want to risk it. He may no longer feel comfortable sleeping next to her. Which meant they could no longer be together. Not like this.

Naomi felt herself begin to cry. She couldn’t risk losing him. She _couldn’t_ lose any more people that she loved.

He didn’t have to know. She didn’t even have to lie… she could just avoid certain details.

She felt sick just thinking it.

But it was the only way to ensure he wouldn’t leave her, that she wouldn’t lose another person because of what had happened when she was pulled through the Fade by Corypheus.


	79. All Soul's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFWish toward the end.

James sat next to Naomi, watching as the actors quietly vacated the clearing, their stage framed by flaming pyres.

“They were pretty good,” Naomi commented.

“The masks are weird.”

“It’s how the Orlesians do theater.”

“Orlesians do everything in masks.”

 He heard her sniff, and James turned to see Naomi wiping tears from her cheek.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

Naomi sniffed again. “It was s _ad_. And I always cry during things like this. And from books and movies…”

James returned to watching the crowd disperse while Naomi brought her tears under control. He had found it strange, to celebrate a holiday by watching a depiction of the savior of the Andrastian faith being executed, to light fires in her remembrance…

Though, even as he thought it, he remembered that churches on Earth were decorated with crosses, movies and plays were made of Jesus’ crucifixion. He supposed it wasn’t so strange after all.

But today they had only remembered Andraste’s death. On Earth, such a night was quickly followed by a day to mark Jesus’ resurrection. There would be no such holiday here in Thedas. Andraste had been fully human, and her death had been final.

James glanced back toward Naomi, finding her tears dried. James knew Naomi cried easily, and the play _had_ been sad, but he couldn’t bring himself to be as emotionally invested as his sister. He couldn’t even bring himself to care anymore about the faith he had been raised in; getting attached to a new religion would be ridiculous.

Naomi looked toward him hopefully. “I’m meeting Cullen in the chapel. He suggested you come too.”

James frowned. “Why?”

“He said people light candles on All Soul’s Day, and that we might want to as well.”

“I’m not Andrastian… and neither are you. This isn’t our holiday. We don’t have to do anything.”

Naomi sighed. “It’s a day to remember people we’ve lost James. You don’t have to believe in Andraste to participate in that.” She looked down at her hands. “And I don’t know… I like the idea of doing something physical to honor them…” She sniffed again. “It hasn’t been that long since we learned what happened to everybody, and we’ve never done anything formal for them.”

“They would have had a funeral back home,” James said, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, blinking slightly to push back the moisture forming in his eyes. There would have been a funeral for _him_ back home.

“But we should too.”

He frowned again, but nodded. “I know. Let’s go then.”

The courtyard was crowded but quiet, braziers and torches placed around the garden casting warm light and smoke through the dark air. James followed Naomi as she wove through the crowds, pointing out Cullen before she could spot him as his height offered an advantage. Cullen smiled fondly at Naomi when they reached him, nodding to James. “I’m glad you came.” He looked back to Naomi. “I believe there is room now, if you are ready…”

Naomi nodded, reaching for Cullen’s hand. “We’re ready.”

Cullen led them to the chapel door. James squinted as he entered the dusty room, taking in the candles covering the floor and stairs, illuminating the large statue of Andraste centered below a series of intricate stained glass windows. He’d never ventured into the religious space, and felt out of place as he looked around at the few other people kneeling on the floor. He shouldn’t be there. He didn’t believe like they did…

“James,” Naomi said softly. “Over here…”

He focused on his sister. This wasn’t about Andraste. It wasn’t about Jesus, or God… It was about his family, about remembering them.

“It’s simple, really,” Cullen said as he stood before a basket filled with unlit candles. He reached for one, as well as a simple wooden stick. He placed the stick into a brazier, removing it once the end glowed faintly. “Light candles for those you have lost and say a prayer. They will burn down and your prayers will rise with the smoke to the Maker.”

Naomi collected a candle. “Catholics did something like this, back home.” She took another candle. “I’m not sure why the Protestants gave it up…”

“Not all did,” James said, reaching for his own candle. “Anglican churches still do, and some other Protestant denominations…”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

_Well, it’s what I studied for four years…_

Naomi followed Cullen to a corner of the room and James finished collecting the candles he needed. He ran his thumb along the smooth wax. He could appreciate the symbolism, but a flame wouldn’t make it any more likely that his prayers would reach the Maker. Or God…

He doubted his prayers would reach anybody.

Still, he crossed to where Cullen and Naomi had settled. James glanced over to see Cullen lighting three candles, Naomi carefully arranging five. James wondered who her fifth candle was for.

On an empty stair he arranged his own four candles, unlit yet still glowing in the light of hundreds of others. He twirled the burning stick between his fingers, picturing his family more clearly than he had allowed himself to do in weeks.

There was David, so much younger than him, the brother James had claimed he _needed_ to have when his parents announced they were going to have another baby, surrounded by sisters as he already was. Blonde, David looked about as different from James as was probably physically possible for a sibling to be, yet they bonded over video games and watching sports, tormenting Abigail…

Abigail. James felt the first tears leak from his eyes. He had never really paid much attention to Abigail. She had been the youngest for too long, whined more than James cared for, always seemed to ask for help to complete the simplest of tasks, too lazy or helpless or senseless to figure things out for herself. He hadn’t had time for her, hadn’t _made_ time for her, teased and put her down when he could. For what? So he could laugh with David? So he could feel better about himself, because at least _he_ had more common sense than Abigail, if not book smarts like Naomi.

He could hardly remember anything about her. She had been beautiful, liked to draw, wanted to become a teacher… but beyond that, he couldn’t say. His own sister had been a stranger to him, and now he would never have a chance to know her.

It was little better when he considered his parents. Worse, actually. He thought he _hated_ his mother for so long, and he couldn’t remember ever having a conversation with her that hadn’t ended in an argument. Things were better with his father… they could at least talk about sports together. But his father deferred to his mother in nearly all decisions, leaving James angry with both of them every time he couldn’t see his friends, was grounded, had electronics taken away, privileges revoked…

All made worse because his sisters never seemed to be punished as much as him.

James saw, now, after it was far too late, how foolish he had been. He provoked his parents, and though he still believed his mother stubborn and overly cautious and overbearing… he could have been more tactful, asked for less. There was a reason Naomi and Abigail escaped punishment when he did not.

And he recognized now how much they had given him. Naomi had told him once to remember what was good about them, and he did. So much more now.

It just made the fact they were gone that much worse.

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth…” James glanced toward Naomi. Her candles were lit, throwing soft shadows on her face, glistening off tears trickling across her skin. James frowned, throat tight and painful as she shakily recited the creed in English. But he had to look away when she reached the end.

“…I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.”

_The life everlasting…_

Could he believe in that anymore? If God didn’t exist, then neither did heaven, and that meant his family was really gone. It didn’t matter how many candles he lit, how much he prayed, how often he said he was sorry. They would never hear.

There was no way for them to know he was sorry.

James stared at his unlit candles, thinking of the last day his entire family had been together. He would never forget that his last conversation with his parents had been a fight, that the only reason the entire family wasn’t together when the explosion happened was because he had stormed off with David, leaving everyone else behind…

But it was more than that. They had been late to the hike he remembered, delayed by _him_ that morning as he dragged his feet, moved that much slower every time his mother yelled at him to hurry…

They _all_ could have been at the top of that valley when the explosion happened. He, Naomi, and David had survived from that position. At least, they all had for a time.

_They didn’t have to die._

James couldn’t move. All he could do was stare at those four white candles, cold and dark, waiting to be lit by him, for him to pray…

“And I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, no power in the sky above or in the earth below… indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God.”

Naomi was still whispering, still praying to God for their family. But what good was praying, if they were truly gone, if there was nowhere for them to go after their deaths? And even if there was, would they want to hear from him? He had been unkind, difficult… terrible as both a son and a brother. And if heaven did exist, his prayers would do nothing to change where they were…

“James…” He blinked. “Your ember went out. Here, you can use mine…”

“I can’t…”

“It’s fine. My candles are lit.”

“No,” James said, standing. “I can’t do this.”

He wasn’t sure how he made it outside. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything, and he had to keep blinking away tears. How could he try to honor his family in their deaths? He hadn’t done it in life.

There were too many people in the courtyard, so he walked quickly toward the stairs, then jogged up them toward the wall…

“James, are you all right?”

Of course Naomi had followed him. She couldn’t just leave him alone…

“James…”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, a little more loudly than he intended as he turned to look at Naomi’s reddened eyes. She frowned.

“I don’t know. What’s wrong?”

_What’s wrong? What the fuck does she think is wrong?_

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, turning away. Naomi grunted in frustration.

“Did it ever occur to you that talking could help? That talking to _me_ could help?” She crossed her arms and looked away, blinking furiously.

James closed his eyes and sighed. Here he was, feeling guilty about treating his family poorly, ignoring them, and Naomi was right in front of him. How many times had he told himself he would do better with her?

He leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

She joined him. After a moment she sighed. “What’s wrong James?”

He stared at his hands, then rubbed them across his face. “Candles don’t mean anything to me Naomi. Lighting candles can’t help…”

“All right, that’s fine. Is there something else you’d rather do?”

He shook his head. “I just can’t Naomi,” he confessed. “I can’t pray for them. What good would it do? And it’s not like they want to hear anything from me anyway.”

“Why would you think that?”

James scoffed. “I was a jerk! All I did was fight with them.”

“It wasn’t that…”

“We were late because of me,” he admitted, distress causing his heart to race. “I kept delaying us that morning, and then we fought and I ran ahead. They wouldn’t have died…”

“James,” Naomi said firmly, reaching for his shoulder. “You had no idea what was going to happen. It was an _accident._ That rift could just as easily opened up over them and we would have died. You _know_ it wasn’t your fault.”

James swallowed. She was right. Of course she was right. _He_ knew it wasn’t his fault. It was Corypheus’ fault.

“I was still a jerk,” he said. He realized he was crying.

“James…” And Naomi’s arm was slipped through his, her head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the only one who fought with them. I did too. I mean… my last conversation was an argument too…” She pulled his arm tighter.

“Why were you fighting?”

“Because they kept talking about you and I was sick of it.”

James grimaced. “So that was my fault too.”

“No, no… that’s not…” She sighed. “We all fought. We were a f _amily_. Families fight. And if the worst Mom and Dad had to deal with was you talking back, I think they got off easy when it came to the child lottery…”

James laughed, and it surprised him. He shouldn’t want to laugh right now.

But he was starting to feel better, under the open sky with Naomi sitting next to him, t _alking_ about everything he had been feeling. He didn’t exactly feel less guilty, or sad, but he could start to rein back his tears.

Until Naomi spoke again. “They loved you James, no matter what. Nothing you ever did changed that.”

He nodded, a fresh wave of tears falling down his cheeks. “I know.”

She squeezed his arm. “And they know you loved them too.”

His heart wrenched. “I doubt it. I never told them.”

“I should have told them more too.”

That just made James sadder. “Why didn’t we?”

“Because nothing bad ever happened to us. We never had any reason to think something like this _would_ happen. We were… complacent.”

They grew silent, and James thought about what Naomi had said. Growing up in Nebraska… bad things just didn’t happen. Not very often. Not to them. But here, in Thedas… bad things just seemed to keep happening.

He couldn’t be complacent here.

Naomi knew he loved her. But then James thought of Nassella and his chest clenched. He couldn’t tell her. He had to accept that if something happened to either of them… she would never know how he felt.

Even if nothing happened, she wouldn’t know how he felt.

“Is it bad that I… don’t think about them every day?”

James looked down at Naomi, seeing her slowly picking at a fingernail. He swallowed. He wished he could say the same, but he still saw them too often in his dreams.

“No,” he said softly. “We’ll have to move on eventually.” He wondered when he would move on.

Naomi nodded slowly, then glanced up at him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

Her lips turned up slightly at the corners, though they quickly fell again. She looked away, back toward the stairs. James remembered she had left Cullen below. He nudged her slightly. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Cullen’s probably waiting. Go ahead and see him.”

“He won’t mind waiting.”

“I’m fine Naomi. And I kind of want to be alone anyway...”

She studied him a moment, then nodded as she stood. But before she left she looked down at him one last time. “They would want to hear whatever you want to say,” she said. “You don’t need to pray or light candles. Just… talk, if you want.”

James just nodded, and as Naomi disappeared down the stairs he sighed. He still didn’t feel like talking, sure they would never hear…

But if there was a chance they could…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the night. It was the best he could do. 

 

* * *

 

Nassella carefully stepped into the small Chantry building, rubbing her arms slowly with her hands. She looked around the stone room, at the dusty pews and floors, the dark stained glass windows and Andrastian imagery. It didn’t look as if the Seekers had used the room the entire time they occupied Caer Oswin, and it had fallen into disrepair. She knew that when it was clean, the chapel was likely beautiful. But she couldn’t imagine worshipping in such a place. It was too… cramped. She needed wind and air and sun…

She wandered. She’d learned enough about the Chantry to get by as the Inquisitor, to get by as the Herald of Andraste, but that had brought her no closer to believing. Still, she could appreciate how beautiful this building likely was when there were others to truly use it as it was intended.

She reached the front of the room and stared up at the solemn face of Andraste. It had been a long week of travelling, and finding the Seekers had been more distressing than she anticipated. Nassella took a deep breath. She didn’t believe, and it was stuffy, but exploring the Chantry was helping her relax, despite herself.

She heard a noise, a small scruff of boots across stone. She turned to her left and saw Cassandra below a smaller statue of Andraste, arranging a number of candles at her feet.

“Cassandra?”

The warrior actually jumped, and Nassella immediately felt guilty. She hadn’t meant to startle the woman. She often forgot how quietly she could move.

“Inquisitor. I did not realize you were here,” Cassandra said, standing up straight.

Nassella slowly approached. “I’m sorry. I just thought I would take a look around…”

They fell into a silence. Nassella rocked slightly on her feet, glancing down at the candles. “What are the candles for?”

Cassandra looked back. “It is All Soul’s Day. They are… to remember those I have lost.”

There were three mismatched candles. Nassella suspected one was for the man Daniel who had died at Caer Oswin, the man Cassandra had clearly known. A second was surely for her brother. The third, Nassella couldn’t begin to guess.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted,” Nassella said. She took a step toward the door. “I’ll give you your peace.”

“You can stay, if you wish,” Cassandra said quietly. “I know there are those you grieve as well.”

“I… am not Andrastian.”

“The Maker loves all of his children. He would not mind.”

Nassella bit the inside of her lip, suddenly needing to get outside. “Thank you Cassandra, but I’m afraid I would be poor company.”

“Of course Inquisitor. I will see you in the morning.”

Outside Nassella took a deep breath. She had tried to take the title ‘Herald of Andraste’ in stride, recognized that is was necessary for the success of the Inquisition. But after regaining her memories in the Fade at Adamant, she knew now for certain that she had not been sent by Andraste or the Maker. It had been an accident, getting the Anchor and surviving the Fade.

The Maker was not her god. She did not believe he existed, and she would not pretend, even for Cassandra. Especially for Cassandra.

And she could not mourn her family in that place.

Nassella made her way back through the fortress, toward the room she had found to use for the night. It would be a welcome change, to use a bed, before they began the journey back to Skyhold in the morning. That small luxury made staying in Caer Oswin that night, where the Seekers had essentially been destroyed, slightly more palatable.

Solas was in the room when she arrived, sitting on the bed with a book in his lap. He looked up with a smile. “How was your walk?”

“A little depressing,” she said, digging around in her pack for clothes to sleep in. “The Seekers didn’t really take care of the place…” She found the shirt she was looking for, then turned to removing what she was currently wearing.

“Certainly not like Skyhold…”

Nassella had removed her shirt, air cool on her bare skin. She glanced over her shoulder, pleased to see Solas watching her as she changed. He noticed her looking back and turned his eyes quickly to his book. Smiling slightly, Nassella pulled the long tunic over her head, then bent to remove her breeches.

She had never been shy with her body. She couldn’t be shy with her clan. That meant that despite doing no more than kissing, Solas had seen nearly every inch of her.

She wished she could say the same about him, but he took a more private approach to his personal care.

Nassella joined Solas on the bed, sitting with her back to the wall, an arm slipped through his. She rested her head on his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“A rather rare tome about Tevinter magical theory I found in the library.”

“You probably know everything in there already.”

Solas chuckled. “It is true I have yet to learn anything new. However, I find it helpful to understand the approaches of others when fighting.”

“That makes sense.”

Nassella read over his shoulder for a moment. But it was difficult to understand, considering her unfamiliarity with magic.

“I met Cassandra in the chapel,” she said eventually, to break the silence. Solas hummed in acknowledgement. “She was lighting candles for All Soul’s Day… did you know about the holiday?”

“Yes,” Solas said. “It is the first day of August after all.”

“I’ve kind of lost track of the days on the road.”

“Understandable.”

Nassella ran her thumb along his arm. “She asked me to join her.”

Solas closed his book and set it aside. “Why didn’t you?”

Nassella sighed. “That’s just… not how I would want to honor my family. I can’t… really do what I want in a chantry.”

Solas adjusted his arm so it could circle her shoulders. “And what would you do?”

Nassella tugged at her earlobe. “I would visit the trees I planted over their graves, to see how they were doing. And I would plant new seeds if they hadn’t taken hold.”

“I wish you had the opportunity to do so.”

Nassella did too. She wondered if she would ever return to see them.

She decided she would try.

“I will someday.”

Solas smiled softly. “I had never attended a Dalish funeral before.”

Nassella shook her head. “You still really haven’t. I did the best I could, but I was alone…” Solas pulled her closer. “It wasn’t the same.”

“Planting trees is an interesting ritual. One the Dalish are certainly fond of.”

“It’s an ancient practice, from before the time of the Dales. The ancient elves…”

“Had no use for such a practice.”

Nassella frowned. “How would you know that? From the Fade?”

“I can infer. The elvhen were immortal after all.”

“Yes, but… surely there were accidents. People would still die.”

Solas sighed. “Indeed. But the elvhen lived in cities, far more advanced than even those of today. Those that died were not honored by planted trees.”

Nassella rubbed her earlobe some more, trying to decide how to respond. It was just one more thing Solas claimed her people had gotten wrong, misinterpreted, or changed beyond recognition. Her clan, all of the Dalish, tried to hold on to their traditions and culture in the face of human expansion, but talking to Solas just proved how difficult that had been…

She couldn’t argue with him. All she knew was what her Keeper and the other elders in her clan had taught her. _He_ actually knew, actually saw what it had been like in the Fade.

And she didn’t want to argue. Things had been going well, not considering the Seekers. Leaving James behind had been painful at first, and she still missed him, but it meant she had been less distracted when she was with Solas, could remind herself that it was the elf she wanted, Solas that she loved.

So far… she thought it was working.

“There are worse ways to honor those you have lost,” she said quietly, “than to plant trees. Even if it’s not the same.”

Solas nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”

She decided to change the subject. Talking about the funeral for her family was resurfacing her grief, and talking with Solas about elves did not always leave her in a good mood.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find the Seekers were under Corpyheus’ influence as well. After the Templars, and the Venatori, and the Wardens…”

“He has certainly reached far. But you have taken his Wardens, and we are whittling away the Templars and Venatori…”

“Not enough,” she said. “We need to do more.”

“Stopping the assassination of Empress Celene will leave the second part of the plan you saw in the future destroyed.”

“But until we destroy him, our work won’t be finished. He is still too powerful.”

“He grows more desperate with each defeat.”

“Hopefully it will be enough for him to make a mistake.”

Solas chuckled. “I believe his greatest mistake was thinking he could take you on and win.”

Nassella glanced up at his face. He seemed so confident, so sure that she could win this war. Far more confident than she usually felt.

She knew how easily things could change, how one mistake could give Corypheus the upper hand...

How easily she could die.

She dropped her eyes to Solas’ lips. She needed to take every chance she could with Solas, before it was too late. She’d already wasted far too much time worrying about James.

She sat up slightly, reached for Solas’ jaw, leaned in to kiss him. His hand gripped her shoulder, slid around her back and down to her waist as she pressed her lips against his. He responded quickly, adjusting his full lips until he was in control of the kiss, manipulating their mouths with lips and tongue and teeth…

Nassella’s body was immediately on fire, tendrils of heat spreading from the trail left by his hand, from their joined lips, from her core. They had barely touched each other on their journey to Caer Oswin, as they set a fast pace, traveling from dawn till dusk every day to reach the fortress as quickly as possible. And they hadn’t had the sort of privacy they did now, with a bed and closed door. She wanted to take advantage of everything they had that night.

She moved, turning until she was straddling his lap. She leaned into him, pressing her body against his, a pulse of pleasure coursing through her as her sex brushed along the cloth of his breeches, felt the telltale sign of his own arousal. Solas moaned slightly, his hands now gripping her ass, pulling her into him. Nassella rolled her hips, gasping at the hardness she felt between her legs…

“Nassella…” Solas whispered, lips still brushing hers. She shifted her hips again.

“What?” she murmured, nipping once more at his lips, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“We shouldn’t.” She could hear the strain in his voice.

At least he wasn’t saying they couldn’t.

“Please Solas, I want to…” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her chest against his. His grip on her ass was firm.

She’d worried, occasionally, that the reason Solas held back was because he wasn’t very attracted to her. But the way he looked at her, the response he was clearly having, indicated that was not the case.

“We cannot get distracted in this way.”

She sighed, pulled back enough so she could look into his gray eyes. “Well, maybe I find it distracting to hold back, to _not_ have sex.”

She could see the shift in his expression, the way his brows pulled together almost imperceptibly, the slight narrowing of his eyes that betrayed that he _wanted_ her. It left her a _ching_.

For a moment, she thought he would relent. It would make their relationship so much clearer, if he would just…

But she watched his face change again, felt his body relax. He had decided. And not in the direction she wanted.

“It is too risky,” he said.

Nassella sighed in frustration. “Our _lives_ are risky Solas. What if I don’t want to risk dying without making love to you? What about that risk?”

“Nassella…”

“No!” she said. “I won’t get pregnant Solas. I’ve been having sex for ten years without getting pregnant. And I’m willing to take that risk to be with you!”

“There will be time, after,” he said softly.

Nassella pulled away, extracted herself from his arms, distanced herself from his body. She stretched out on the bed and covered her eyes. “Neither of us can promise we’ll survive this Solas,” she said, throat tightening. “We don’t know if there will _be_ an after, for either of us.”

She heard Solas lie down next to her. “Defeating Corypheus must be your priority.”

“It is my priority,” she defended, eyes still closed. “But I… I can’t think about that all of the time. I need more in my life than the end of the world.” _I need more than death and grief and fighting…_

They were silent for a tense moment. Then she felt him reach for her hand. “I will think about it.”

She wanted to feel hopeful, but he’d said similar things before. “Will it take you weeks to decide?” She grimaced, knowing how bitter she sounded.

He paused for a moment. “It is an important decision.”

Guilt washed through her. She hated to think she was pushing him into doing something he wasn’t ready for. Nassella squeezed his hand and opened her eyes to look at him. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand our relationship is likely different than any you have previously had.”

That was an understatement. Solas was older than any man she had ever been with, more well-traveled and educated, he wasn’t Dalish…

But those were all things she loved about him. And if he needed more time to feel comfortable about moving their physical relationship further, she would wait.

She could not push him away by being overly aggressive, or pouting because he wouldn’t sleep with her.

So she rolled toward him and wrapped her arms around his chest. “Take the time you need. I understand.”


	80. Worth Considering

Cullen shifted on his feet, trying in vain to find a position that would not leave his joints aching. They had been at it for hours, discussing Inquisition matters that didn’t stop simply because the Inquisitor was gone. Currently, they were reviewing reports and diagrams, making plans for the peace talks in Orlais.

“My agents in Halamshiral have found a way to sneak a dozen soldiers into the Winter Palace the night of the ball,” Leliana reported. “Unfortunately, to avoid detection they will have to wait outside of the palace walls until they are needed.”

“So few? And so far away?” Cullen asked. “If there will be assassins, surely we can find a way to bring more of our people into the palace.”

“I can get perhaps four of my agents to infiltrate the servant’s numbers,” Leliana suggested.

“Superior numbers will not necessarily be to our advantage, Commander,” Josephine added. “The assassin may choose to strike at another time if he believes we are aware of his plans.”

“Indeed. Our greatest weapon is that the assassin does not know we are aware of his intentions. It is far more important that the few we bring into the ball are able to move with less scrutiny, so the plot may be revealed.”

“Still,” Cullen argued. “We could potentially walk into the same trap unarmored and largely unarmed. And we must prepare for the possibility that more than a single assassin will be at work.”

“That is why it is crucial we choose the attending party carefully,” Josephine said. “Before the Inquisitor left we had decided Vivienne would certainly attend, as well as Cassandra. Vivienne is well known among the Orlesian nobility, and Cassandra is Nevarran royalty, which should garner favor from the nobles.” Then she grinned slightly. “Blackwall will also come, to demonstrate the alliance between the Wardens and the Inquisition.”

“The Inquisitor has also insisted on the presence of Solas and James,” Leliana added. “Though I’m afraid the advantages of their attendance will likely be limited to their combat abilities.”

“We will need to justify their presence,” Josephine mused. “We cannot simply show up to the Winter Palace with an elven apostate. And James has no title…”

“They can be servants,” Leliana suggested. “It would not be strange in Orlais to have an elven servant. The nobles may even approve. James can serve as a squire to Cullen…”

Cullen was frowning. “None of them will agree to this,” he said. “I certainly don’t need a squire, and I cannot imagine Solas playing the part of a servant.”

“We must all play a part Commander, if we are to succeed in this Game,” Leliana said. “I believe Solas will understand.”

Cullen shook his head. He could do without the political maneuvering. All he wanted was bodies to ensure the entire Inquisition wouldn’t fall in a single night. “Regardless, I agree they should be there. Since we will not be able to have many weapons or armor, another mage will certainly be useful should there be conflict. And James can get by without armor better than anyone.”

“Cole will be able to move around unseen, and Sera may be able to infiltrate with the servants, but I’m afraid we will have no other eyes among the crowd,” Josephine said.

“And few fighters should it come to violence,” Cullen added. “What about Iron Bull? Varric? Dorian?”

“Varric perhaps, but I’m afraid bringing a Qunari mercenary and Tevinter mage could do more harm than good,” Josephine said.

“We need every person we can get into this ball,” Cullen continued to argue. It worried him, how outnumbered they could find themselves at this event. It was crucial that the Inquisition maintain control of the situation, and he would rather have Iron Bull and Dorian attend than find themselves outmaneuvered by Corypheus, even if it meant the Orlesians would turn up their noses.

“We could consider Naomi,” Leliana offered. “She fought at Adamant, and could be useful here, with her fade-touched skin.”

“Naomi?” Cullen asked. It hadn’t crossed his mind to bring her.

But now that it did, he could see Leliana’s point. Naomi would not need armor, she was adequate at fighting, she would increase their numbers and eyes in the ballroom…

_What am I thinking?_

Cullen shook his head. It didn’t feel right. Naomi had not done well in the aftermath of Adamant, and he could still remember the vacancy in her gaze, how helpless he had felt to bring her out of shock. He never wanted to put her in such a situation again.

When he returned to listening, Leliana and Josephine had continued with their plans. “In many ways, she could be perfectly suited for this,” Leliana was saying. “We could use her and James to pass messages or record sensitive information…”

“She could easily pose as a lady-in-waiting,” Josephine contributed.

 _Perfectly suited_ … “Naomi is not experienced, Leliana,” Cullen finally found the voice to argue.

“It is worth considering the possibility,” Josephine said. “There is time to prepare Naomi, just as we all prepare.”

Leliana was less diplomatic. “She has a gift Cullen, one that I have thought for months we could better utilize. We cannot let her abilities go to waste. Not when the stakes are so high.”

Cullen leaned forward, gripping the table’s edge. “She does not want to be used because of her abilities.” It was one of the first things he had learned about her, that first night on the walls.

“She has already used them,” Leliana said, crossing her arms. “She cannot pick and choose when to fight.”

Cullen’s stomach twisted. Naomi had fought at Adamant because she couldn’t stand to stay behind while her friends and family risked their lives. “It is not like that Leliana.”

“There are all things we do not want to do Cullen, but we do them because we must. You are worried how our time at Halamshiral will go. Naomi could address your concerns. She has the potential to do so much more.”

Cullen crossed his own arms. “This is not your choice to make,” he replied.

Leliana lifted her chin slightly. “I will talk to her, explain our situation.”

Cullen shook his head. He would not allow Leliana to bully Naomi into fighting. “No.”

“So you will not even give her a choice?”

Cullen stood up taller, his first instinct to stand his ground. But he did not like the implication that he was deciding anything for Naomi. He relaxed slightly, dropping his hands back to the table.

“I will speak with her.”

 

* * *

 

Naomi watched as the surgeon inspected the cages lined up against the rough stone wall, the other woman’s arms crossed while she frowned at the rats shuffling around their enclosures, nibbling on grain, or curled up in furry balls. She paused longer at the far end, staring at a row of five cages, each rat inside obviously suffering from a severely infected wound.

The surgeon, who had introduced herself as Calla, turned toward Naomi with a shake of her head. “Go through the experiment again. I want to be sure I understand.”

Naomi walked toward the first row of cages. “Of course. Like I said, my question was whether washing hands and instruments between patients could decrease the chance that infection would spread. So I started by wounding a rat, then letting the cut fester into an infection...” Naomi winced inwardly describing her experiment. Working with bacteria and infections meant injuring her test subjects. While she understood the necessity for the advancement of science and improving human health, there was a reason she had decided to work with plants back home. She had felt so bad for that initial rat, as she devised a cone to place around the animal’s neck to keep it from licking the small wound she’d created on its back haunches clean. She’d had to put the creature down once its purpose was fulfilled, ending its suffering but leaving her a little sick inside.

Naomi wasn’t looking forward to repeating that task with the other rats currently suffering from infections. And she still hadn’t decided what she would do with the animals whose wounds were healing. She doubted those living in Skyhold would appreciate her releasing them back where they could steal food or terrorize the ravens, but she wasn’t sure she would have the heart to kill perfectly healthy animals.

But she couldn’t worry about those details at the moment. So Naomi focused on the experiment at hand, and relaying her results as clearly as she could to the surgeon. Because if Calla couldn’t appreciate the significance of her results, then the entire loss of rodent life would have been for nothing.

“There were four treatments in this experiment. Each started with creating a cut on a rat’s haunch with a clean knife that had been sterilized by heating over a flame. The first treatment was a control, so I stitched five rats up with new, sterilized needles. In the second treatment, I rolled a sterilized needle in the infected rat, then used that soiled needled to stitch up five rats, using a different needle for each rat. In a third treatment, I rolled the needles in the infection, then washed them with soap and water before stitching, and in the fourth treatment I rubbed the needle down with alcohol after washing, then stitched up the rat. All the rats were allowed to clean the wounds and fed the same diet of grain.”

“So the only difference was how the needle was treated?” Calla asked. Naomi nodded, pleased that the woman had picked up that important concept after only explaining the experiment twice. Though, the woman was still frowning.

“As you can see,” Naomi continued, pointing toward the first three rows of cages. “No rats stitched up with new, entirely sterile needles or needles sterilized with alcohol developed infections. And only two rats stitched with needles washed with soap and water developed minor infections.” Naomi stepped closer to the final row. “However, all five rats stitched with uncleaned needles now have infections, some of them severe.” Calla was nodding, so Naomi continued. “So, since the only difference between how these rats were treated is how the needle was washed, I would conclude that washing the instrument before using it on a healthy rat decreased the chance that the rat would develop an infection.”

“Yes, it would appear that is the case,” Calla commented, her voice frustratingly betraying no hint of whether she understood the broader implications of that conclusion.

“Sooo,” Naomi pushed. “I believe that doing the same with human patients will greatly decrease the chances that infections will spread between them. And there could even be other forms of illnesses that could be stopped or slowed from spreading…”

“But you do not know that this will work with humans,” Calla interrupted. “With these few rats, yes, but humans are an entirely different matter.”

Naomi bit the inside of her lip, thinking of how to tactfully explain something she had learned back on Earth by the time she entered first grade. And Calla had a point. Her sample size was far too small, but she knew the concept was sound. “Humans really aren’t that different from rats,” she said. “Our organs are basically the same, we both produce hair and milk, we have blood…”

Calla shook her head and crossed her arms. “That does not mean the same sort of medicine will work.”

“Don’t people use the same herbs and poultices to treat horses or dogs as humans? Why would herbs work and not washing the blood off of hands and instruments?”

Calla narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “I suppose…”

“And doesn’t it make sense to keep the fluids of sick people from contacting healthy ones? There are so many things in blood that can be transferred…”

“People fall ill when their humors are out of balance. That cannot happen simply by touching blood. Vapors must be exchanged to upset the balance.” Calla’s eyes swept over Naomi’s body. “Anyone who had seriously studied medicine would know that.”

Naomi once more bit the inside of her lip, face heating slightly. This is exactly what she had been worried about when it came to studying medicine in Thedas. There was no reason for anyone to take her seriously. She had no experience, had not trained under a respected healer. She was largely self-taught when it came to Thedas medicine, trying to bring the knowledge she knew because of schooling on a different planet to this new place with no evidence.

But she did have evidence. Right here, with the rats. It was enough to suggest that something else was going on beyond humors, Calla just had to realize it.

“You said you believe in the power of science, right?” Naomi asked, resisting the urge to cross her arms. She didn’t want to appear defensive. “Well so do I.” She gestured back to the rats. “And this is science. This experiment, where the only thing that changed whether a rat got an infection or not is how the needles were cleaned, is science. Don’t you think it’s worth considering that the same thing could potentially work with human patients?” That’s all that was needed, Naomi thought. Calla just needed to try being more conscious about washing blood and bile and other body fluids from her hands and instruments between patients, and she would surely see the difference, recognize that her patients were healthier for it.

Calla studied her a moment, then lowered her hands with a nod. “I suppose it is worth considering.”

Naomi smiled. Calla still seemed hesitant, but it was a start, and if the surgeon found success from the results of this experiment, it would just make their future dealings easier.

After Calla had left, Naomi looked over her notes, making sure she had all of the information recorded from her experiment before cleaning it up. Science was nothing unless results were recorded…

“So how’d it go?” a cheerful voice asked. Naomi jumped slightly, but smiled as she looked down at Dagna. Sera was across the undercroft, poking around a box filled with bits of metal and cloth on Dagna’s workbench.

“Well, I think. At least, Calla seems willing to try washing more,” Naomi said.

Dagna grinned. “Don’t worry. It may be tough starting out, but keep at it and soon people will recognize what your work could mean.”

“Is that what you did?”

Dagna nodded. “It took a while for people to see that a dwarf could work with magic. But they couldn’t ignore my masterworks for long.”

Naomi laughed, then glanced toward the cylindrical object sitting in an out of the way corner of the undercroft, shining faintly gold in the dim light. “What I really need is to be able to show the organisms that actually cause disease. Now that the telescope is here, that might actually happen.”

_And I may finally get the chance to look closer at lyrium…_

Dagna walked over to the telescope, running her hand over the smooth brass. “I’ll get to studying this as soon as I can, but first I have to finish with the enchantments for the Inquisitor.” Dagna turned back toward Naomi, her grin somehow even larger. “Usually I just enchant the armor itself, but it’s quite fun to come up with amulets and other sorts of enchantments to keep the Inquisitor and her party protected without armor.”

Naomi nodded. “I bet it is. And don’t worry about the telescope. I know you have other stuff to work on.” Naomi placed her own hand on the cool metal. “I actually want to get a chance to use this as is, and look at stars and planets…”

Dagna giggled. “Ooo, I’d like to be there!”

Naomi smiled. “Of course!”

There was a clang of wood against stone, and Naomi looked toward the door to see Cullen entering the undercroft. Still smiling, she brought a hand to her hair, tucking a flyaway strand behind an ear. Leaving Dagna behind, Naomi crossed to meet Cullen as he descended the stairs, greeting him with a quick kiss. He gripped her arm, grinning back.

“Good evening,” he said quietly. Naomi glanced outside, past the waterfall, surprised at how long the shadows had fallen across the mountains.

“I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“I came to see if you are ready for dinner.”

Naomi pulled away, moving back toward her cages of rats. “Yes. Just let me make sure everything is settled here…”

She had almost finished feeding the rats, deciding to wait until the next day to figure out what to do with them, when there was a crash from across the undercroft. She looked to see a box of Dagna’s enchanting supplies scattered across the stones, Sera standing with a hand over her mouth and wide eyes.

“Oops,” the elf said before breaking into a giggling fit.

Shaking her head, Naomi moved to help pick up the bits of metal and scraps of hide and fabric, gathering them into a pile in her arm. She reached for a chunk of silverite, and yelped when a shock moved from her fingertips up her arm once she made contact with the shining metal. She dropped a number of the objects she had already gathered, drawing the eyes of the others.

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked.

“No,” Naomi said, rubbing her hand along her breeches. “It just shocked me a little…”

Warily, she picked up the silverite again. It shocked her once more, but she didn’t drop the hunk of metal, and soon the sensation reduced to a less painful, but still slightly uncomfortable, buzzing that started to leave her fingers feeling numb.

Quickly, Naomi went to bring the scraps back to the box. “Dagna, what is this?” she asked, considering that she shouldn’t be touching this piece of metal, if it made her feel like this.

“It’s just the fade-touched things the Inquisitor has been finding...” the dwarf said cheerfully, looking up at Naomi with arms full. When their eyes met, Dagna froze, and Naomi watched her eyes growing wider. Then Dagna dropped everything she was holding, reaching to pull Naomi down to her level by an arm, her face just inches from Naomi’s. Naomi froze, holding her breath finding the other woman so close.

“Your eyes are green!” Dagna exclaimed. “Like, really green.” She narrowed her own eyes. “I always thought they were pretty, but now they look… like the Breach!” The dwarf laughed, peering even closer. Naomi held the look as long as she could, but eventually she had to look away, pull back as she stood.

She found herself looking for Cullen, but was not comforted by the way he looked back, frowning as he studied the apparently new color of her eyes.

Troubled, Naomi looked down at the piece of fade-touched silverite still in her hand. Her entire arm was tingling, and she knew the metal was to blame. Quickly, she dropped everything she was holding into the box, sighing slightly in relief as the strange sensations slowly faded from her arm. She rubbed the skin with her other hand, clearing her throat.

“Well that was weird…” Then she found herself tugged back down. Dagna stuck out her lip slightly, disappointed.

“It’s gone… What were you holding there?”

“Um, some silverite.”

“Hmm…” Dagna mused, reaching for the offending metal, turning it slightly over in her hand. “You said it shocked you?”

“Yeah,” Naomi said, still rubbing her arm. “And my arm was… tingling the entire time I held it.”

“Interesting,” Dagna murmured. “I don’t feel anything…”

Naomi swallowed. She didn’t always think about the fact that she was fade-touched. It wasn’t usually relevant to what she normally did during a day, and it was a little unsettling to be reminded of her condition so unexpectedly.

“It’s strange how it reacted to you,” Dagna continued to say, talking half to herself. “I’ve never seen fade-touched things do that before… Here!” she said, offering the silverite back. “Touch it again.”

Naomi frowned and glanced toward Cullen. He was still frowning, but staring at the floor, offering her no comfort. With a sigh, Naomi turned back to Dagna, reaching for the silverite, wincing slightly when the electricity shot through her again.

“Oh,” Dagna said softly. Then she giggled. “I feel it! It’s tingling and buzzing… and your eyes are almost _glowing_!” Naomi dropped her hand. The sensations were still uncomfortable.

“Bleh, I don’t like this magic,” Sera grumbled, crossing her arms and eyeing the box of fade-touched materials skeptically. “I don’t want any of that stuff changing my eyes or making me buzz.”

“It seems to just be Naomi,” Dagna assured her. “Do you have any idea why this happens?” she asked Naomi.

Naomi bit the inside of her lip. Dagna didn’t know about her condition, and neither did Sera, and she wasn’t sure if she should tell them. She glanced toward Cullen. He still looked worried, and didn’t seem to be paying attention.

Naomi looked back at Dagna. The dwarf was smiling, looking at her hopefully, and Naomi knew that she had to tell her friend something. Otherwise, the alcanist would pester her constantly until she got answers. Naomi glanced around, then reached for a small knife sitting on Dagna’s workbench. She paused for only a moment before pulling the blade across her skin, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake as Dagna gasped at her uninjured skin. But she reasoned she didn’t have to tell Dagna the entire story.

“It’s probably happening because I’m fade-touched too.”

 

\-----

 

Naomi sat across from Cullen at the dinner table, finishing the last of her ale. Cullen was still picking at a chicken breast, eyes fixed on his plate, and Naomi wasn’t sure what to say. After finally escaping Dagna and her questions in the undercroft, having spent nearly an hour telling the dwarf about her fade-touched skin, assuring Sera it wasn’t contagious, touching every piece of fade-touched metal, cloth, and hide Dagna had to find anything else she reacted with, they had settled around the table to eat. But Cullen had not been very talkative, only asking enough questions about how her meeting with the surgeon had gone to get them through the first half of the meal. He’d been less forthcoming about his own day, so their conversation had dwindled.

Normally, Naomi wouldn’t mind. Lapsing into silence with Cullen rarely felt awkward. But this silence wasn’t comfortable or easy, a result of two people secure enough with each other to know that talking wasn’t always necessary. Something was bothering Cullen, and had clearly been bothering him since he had come to the undercroft.

 _I need to ask what’s wrong,_ Naomi thought, swallowing the last of her ale. _My period’s done, but I don’t know if he’ll be in the mood tonight otherwise…_

She shifted slightly, still aroused at the thought. It had been over a week, and she had been looking forward to getting Cullen into bed for the entire day. But it didn’t exactly feel right to try and flirt while he was troubled. Especially when she considered that it was probably because he was in pain.

Cullen pushed his plate away, finished picking meat from the bones. Naomi smiled. “Want to go for a walk?” she asked.

Cullen nodded, finally looking up from his plate. “Yes. That sounds nice.”

He led them to the gardens, and Naomi took a deep breath of the floral scented air as she slipped a hand into his. “Are you feeling all right? You were quiet at dinner.”

Cullen nodded. “Everything is fine.”

She squeezed his hand. “Ok…”

Suddenly Cullen pulled her forward, guiding them to the gazebo and its chess set. “Let’s play a game,” he suggested, sitting to set up the pieces. “We haven’t played in quite some time.” Still worried, Naomi sat across from him, helping with the pieces.

Their game was even quieter than dinner, made more obvious as they sat in the nearly empty garden, the only others enjoying the evening air a handful of Chantry sisters and a couple of visiting Orlesian nobles. And Naomi realized several minutes into the game that Cullen didn’t even seem to be paying attention. He always held back when they played, but she could determine no pattern from his moves, no strategy. He didn’t appear to be trying to win at all.

Finally, she sat back and crossed her arms, staring at the man across from her. “Cullen,” she said. “Something is bothering you. Are you in pain?”

Cullen slowly removed his hand from the piece he had been about to move, meeting her gaze with a sigh. “No, I feel fine.”

That was comforting, at least. “Then what is it?”

Cullen leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “It’s… something we discussed in our meeting today,” he finally grumbled.

Naomi leaned forward herself. “About the Winter Palace? Are the plans going badly?”

“They are not going badly,” Cullen said with a shake of his head. “Though I doubt I will ever be entirely satisfied.”

“So what is it then?” He let out a long breath, but just stared at the board. She tried to be patient, but finally Naomi had to push. “Cullen…”

He looked at her, pained. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to think that you _have_ to do anything.”

Naomi frowned. “Cullen, you’re not making any sense. What would I have to do?”

“Leliana suggested you come with us to Halamshiral,” he said bitterly.

For a moment, Naomi didn’t move. Why would Leliana suggest such a thing? She couldn’t be that useful…

Except for her fade-touched skin. Naomi ran a thumb along her arm, which had reacted so strangely to fade-touched silverite earlier that night. Of course she knew why Leliana wanted her at the Winter Palace.

“Oh,” she said quietly, slumping back against the chair. Leliana wanted her there for the same reason James was so useful in a fight. She would not get injured like any of the others.

But she wouldn’t be useful like James. She could fight, but not like him.

“This is entirely up to you Naomi,” Cullen said. “No one can make you come, it’s just…”

Cullen had mentioned in passing how vulnerable the Inquisition could find themselves at the peace talks, but she apparently hadn’t realized just how dangerous it would be for them. “You’re worried,” she said.

Cullen nodded slightly. “It is important we maintain control, and we have no way of knowing how many of Corypheus’ agents will be there until that night. And so few of us will even be able to attend…”

Of course he was worried. Cullen commanded an army, fought with swords and shields and soldiers. He was out of his element, forced to rely on only a few men and women at a ball of all things. Assassins did not work in the open, and Naomi could understand why that worried him.

Naomi was worried too. She always hated when her friends and family put themselves in danger, knowing there was little she could do to help them. And seeing how concerned Cullen was just made things worse. But now she was being asked to help.

_Only if it comes to a fight._

She wasn’t sure she _could_ help with that. Memories of Adamant flashed through her mind, first among them the face of the Warden she had killed.

Followed shortly after by the utter despair of losing James and Nassella to the Fade.

_Why does helping have to include fighting?_

But that was the reality of this place. There were times when fighting was necessary. She had accepted that at Adamant and done what she could. Why was this any different?

_Because there probably won’t be demons there. It will just be people…_

She rubbed her arm, her heart still racing after remembering the battle. “Do you think it would help if I was there?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Cullen said. “This is your decision.”

“I know that Cullen, but it does matter what you think. You’ve actually seen me fight, Leliana hasn’t. All she knows is my skin can’t be cut and that I can shoot a bow. You know better than anyone if I would actually be useful.”

She watched him frown, look down at his hand, rub the back of his neck, staying silent this time until he decided to speak. He looked at her apologetically. “Yes, you could be useful. I can’t deny how your abilities can keep you safe. You can fight. We need more people. With a little more training… But,” he said, leaning closer, gold eyes focused on hers. “I know you don’t like fighting Naomi. You don’t like _killing._ It doesn’t matter if you physically could do this, if you don’t want to…”

“You don’t need to like fighting to do it,” Naomi interrupted. If Cullen thought she could do this… “It’s not as if _you_ like fighting. And… I like the idea of doing nothing, of anyone else dying, even less…” She bit her lip, taking a deep breath. “If you think I could do this, then I want to try.” She tried to smile. “I want to help.”

Cullen sighed. “I know you do.” He moved a piece randomly on the board.

“You’re still upset,” Naomi said softly.

Cullen cleared his throat. “You were suffering after Adamant, Naomi. You shouldn’t have to feel like that ever again.”

Naomi needed to be closer to him. He needed to know she was all right.

She stood and crossed to his side of the table, glancing around the garden. It was nearly empty, so she carefully lowered herself to his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, resting his head on her shoulder. “I don’t think that will happen again,” she said softly, breathing in his scent. “Now that I know what it’s like…”

“It could still happen,” Cullen murmured.

Naomi swallowed, then nodded. “Still… it’s worth trying. Just… tell me what I have to do.”

Cullen sighed. “Leliana will certainly have some ideas about that.”

They lapsed into silence, less awkward now that their worries were out in the open. They would certainly talk about this again, especially as the date drew nearer, but for the night they could be finished. Cullen nuzzled his nose further into the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply, and Naomi’s body responded, her sex growing more sensitive with each passing second.

“I’ve never been asked to a dance before,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Cullen pulled away. “What?”

Naomi cleared her throat. “We would have dances in school back home, and I was just thinking that no one ever asked me to one.” She smiled. “But now, Leliana’s asked me.”

Cullen let out a short, breathy snort. “Yes, I suppose she did.” He sobered. “But this won’t be for pleasure.”

Naomi shifted when he said pleasure. She was thinking less and less about Halamshiral, and more and more about getting Cullen behind a closed door where she could remove his layers of armor and feel his skin against hers…

She realized she was staring at Cullen’s mouth, at the scar bisecting the upper lip, turning up as he started to grin, imagining what he could do with those lips on her body…

“You know,” she whispered, glancing up into his eyes. “About a week ago I promised you something…”

Cullen pulled her tighter, his grin continuing to grow. “Tonight?” She nodded, wanting nothing more than to kiss him right there. But she noticed a new group of Chantry sisters walking through the gardens, glancing toward her and Cullen. She stood and returned to her side of the table, looking back to their unfinished game.

“Let’s finish this first…”

“No.” Naomi glanced up at Cullen, grinning at the way he was standing half out of his chair. He sat. “I mean, we can play another time.”

She laughed. “Well, we can have sex another time too.”

Cullen flushed. “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he said reluctantly.

Naomi smiled, moving one of her pieces. “Besides, I might actually win this game, the way you were distracted earlier.”

Cullen finally let out a full laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

Her king was in checkmate in six moves. Naomi stared at the board, trying to figure out how she had lost so quickly. She looked up at Cullen, finding him studying her with a smug grin on his face. She sniffed.

“You could have given me a little dignity in my defeat.”

He smiled, then stood and offered his hand. “I thought you didn’t want me to go easy on you when we played.”

Naomi took his hand. “Well, I don’t want you to destroy me either.”

He pulled her closer, his hands finding her hips. He leaned in until their lips were nearly touching. Naomi felt her face begin to buzz. “I hope I’m not the only one who’s been looking forward to this night all week.”

Naomi smiled, rolling her hips slightly against his, drawing a small moan from his throat. “Don’t worry, you’re not.”


	81. In the Kitchens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFWish

James opened the door to the kitchens, the scent of baking bread enveloping him in a cloud of warm air. He was later than usual, having been detained by Dagna as he moved through the great hall, dragged into the undercroft where she proceeded to shove chunks of metal and scraps of cloth into his hands. She had been extremely disappointed, for some reason, when nothing seemed to happen, but offered no explanation as she turned back to her instruments and enchantments, mumbling to herself. James had left her like that, deciding that it wasn’t worth pushing to find out exactly what the dwarf had hoped to accomplish with… whatever that had been.

“Good, you can help me take the last batch out of the oven,” Mayra called from across the room, her arms elbow-deep in a tub of water. James peaked into the oven, noting the golden color of the loaves. _I’m getting good at recognizing when bread is ready,_ he thought as he slipped a paddle under the loaves, transferring them to a clear space on the table and covering them with a cloth. He had just finished the last batch when he felt arms slipped around him, reaching up to grab his chest, Mayra’s body pressed against his back.

“Thank you,” she said. “It always goes much faster when you help.”

“Sorry I’m late,” James said, turning around so he could look down into Mayra’s blue eyes. She leaned forward, pushing him back against the table. He felt his blood begin to migrate to his groin.

Mayra shrugged, pushing her breasts more firmly against him. “It’s not like you really have to help at all.”

Yes, he did. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if all he did when he was with Mayra was have sex with her.

“Why doesn’t anybody else help you finish with the bread?” James asked.

Mayra shrugged again, her hands running along his back. “I’m the only one who sleeps down here in the kitchens, and I don’t mind taking out the last batch by myself.” She started easing up on her toes. “Besides, it means we can be alone…” She was trying to kiss him, but James was too much taller for her to reach him. It was up to him to close the distance.

He did. It was what they were heading toward, anyway, what Mayra always wanted when they were together. And Nassella had told him to spend more time with her…

_No. Don’t think about Nassella right now._

They stumbled to her closet bedroom between kisses, Mayra already tugging at his shirt, pulling on his breeches. James shut the door behind them, removing his shirt before kissing Mayra again, lowering her to the bedroll and removing their last articles of clothing.

Mayra was… enthusiastic when they were together. James was glad for it. It meant he never had to question whether she was enjoying herself. And the more time they spent together, the more he wanted her, to kiss her, hold her, focus on nothing else besides her body against his and just _being_ with another person for a few moments of pure pleasure…

He was adjusting her hips, elevating himself above her as he attempted to find a position that would leave her moaning as he thrust, when she clutched at his neck, opening her eyes and blinking as she focused. “James,” she said breathlessly. “I almost forgot… you can’t… come inside of me…”

James slowed, shaking his head so he could focus on her words. “What?” he said, though it sounded like a groan. She clenched around him, and he closed his eyes, focusing enough on his arousal to keep himself from falling over the edge.

“The herbs I take ran out… you need to pull out…”

James let out a long breath. If her normal means of preventing pregnancy was gone… “Maybe we should stop then…” But God he didn’t want to.

She shook her head, pulling at his neck and ass to keep him close. “No, no. Just don’t come inside, it will be fine.” She rolled her hips against him, reminding him of his throbbing cock, of the tight heat of her sex. “Please James, don’t stop…”

James grunted, resuming his pace. He could handle pulling out… he hadn’t come prematurely in weeks. And even if he failed, it wasn’t like she could get pregnant by him anyway.

It was a close thing, when Mayra cried out her pleasure, fingernails digging into the skin of his ass while she came, but James just managed to remove himself fully from her body and spill himself on her leg instead of inside her. Mayra sighed, her breasts pressing against his chest with each deep breath she took, and smiled. “Perfect…” she murmured. James nodded, falling to his back. Mayra turned and wrapped her arm across his stomach, and James lazily ran his fingers along her smooth skin.

The wave of guilt hit him like it did every night, as the haze of pleasure from his orgasm faded. No matter how much Mayra enjoyed being with him, or he with her, he couldn’t help but feel that he was using her, that the only thing they really gained from this relationship was physical pleasure.

But it was that physical companionship James knew was growing harder and harder to give up. It wasn’t even the sex. Aside from the occasional hug from Naomi, Mayra was the only other person he held, the only other person that could satisfy his need for touch, for human closeness. He had missed it, since losing Makenzie, and being with Mayra reminded him just how good it could feel to be with another person.

But he didn’t love her, and it soiled what good could come from sex. He watched Mayra sit up, reach for a rag to clean herself, and swallowed thickly. He felt in his gut that he _could_ fall in love with her, and the fact that he felt no closer to it after weeks of sleeping with her made him feel broken.

Mayra laid back down and snuggled into the crook of his arm. “How was your day?” he asked.

“Same as always,” she said through a yawn. “Though I did get a letter from my father.”

“Oh,” James said. He realized he’d never asked about her family. “Where is he?”

“Back in the Hinterlands,” she said, yawning again. “He decided to stay behind, even after our house was destroyed in the fighting.”

“I’m sorry,” James said, stifling his own yawn. He really knew so little about her…

“He sent me to the Inquisition so I would be safer. But now that things have calmed down, he’s wondering when I will come back.”

James cleared his throat. “Are you going to?”

“No,” she said, glancing up toward him. “It could still be dangerous, and things are going well here…”

James nodded. “Yes, they are.” And if she left, he may never find a better chance to get over Nassella…

_I might get over her if I stopped thinking about her…_

“What about you?” Mayra asked, gently snaking a leg over his. “Where are your parents?”

James tensed. How had he not told her these basic facts before sleeping with her…? “They’re dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mayra said softly.

“It happened years ago,” he said. He didn’t know why he lied about that.

But he knew he would just have to keep lying. Mayra didn’t know where he was from, and he couldn’t talk truthfully about most of his life…

There was a reason they didn’t often talk about their pasts. He didn’t ask after hers, because it would just open himself up to questions. And he would have no answers.

“Still… I know it still hurts to think about my mother, even if I don’t really remember her.”

That made James sad. “How did it happen?”

“In childbirth. We lost the baby too.”

James couldn’t imagine. He didn’t know a single woman who had died in such a way back on Earth…

“What happened to yours?”

Screaming. Pain. Burning…

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

James opened his eyes with a start. He stared at the ceiling, confused. It was dark, the candle having burned out. He had fallen asleep, he realized, after his conversation with Mayra had dwindled. But he couldn’t risk that happening again. Not next to her. He was lucky he hadn’t woken from a nightmare this time.

He gently extracted himself from Mayra’s body, covered her with a blanket, then quickly dressed. He slipped into the kitchens, still warm despite the cooling ovens, and made his way to the great hall.

The great hall was empty when James emerged from Skyhold’s basement. Empty save for Blackwall sitting by the fireplace, a bottle of spirits sitting on the table in front of him. The Warden poured him a drink as he approached.

“Didn’t think anyone would still be up,” James said as he took a sip of the drink, recognizing the bottle as one Nassella had found in an abandoned camp on the Storm Coast, some mystery alcohol left behind by a Warden. He couldn’t identify exactly what it was, though mead seemed to be the base.

“Varric left a few moments ago. I was about to follow his lead,” Blackwall responded, drinking from his own glass. James nodded, and they lapsed into silence, savoring their drinks.

“What were you doing in the kitchens this late?” Blackwall asked after a few moments.

James felt his face heat. “Mayra’s room is down there,” he said. There was no use trying to hide it. Everyone knew about him and the other woman.

“Ah,” Blackwall said in understanding, followed by more silence. James poured himself another drink. “It’s good to see you and your sister finding people here,” Blackwall continued eventually. “After everything you’ve been through, you shouldn’t have to be alone.”

It was true, at least for Naomi. After some initial hesitation, James had to admit he was glad that Cullen was in his sister’s life. He loved her. There was no questioning that.

“I’m glad for Naomi,” James responded.

“Not for yourself?”

James shrugged, drinking more mead. “It’s not the same for me,” he said quietly. “We’re not in love.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he felt comfortable talking to Blackwall so openly about this, but he reasoned the older man was the only one who wouldn’t tease him for what he said, like Bull, or gossip like Dorian.

“Not yet,” Blackwall said. “But she seems a nice girl.”

“She is,” James said. It just made his inability to love her worse. “But I can’t… talk to her,” he continued to confess. He took a large drink. “I can’t tell her anything about me. I don’t know how there can be anything more without that…”

Blackwall was nodding, staring at the dusty bottle. “It’s hard, living with secrets. When you can’t talk about this things that made you, define you. How can you build a future if you can’t talk about your past?”

James swallowed. “Exactly,” he whispered. It was what he envied most about Naomi and Cullen. She didn’t have to hide anything with him.

Blackwall reached for the bottle, and James studied the grizzled warrior. Were there secrets keeping him from moving forward with Josephine? James decided he didn’t want to ask. God knew he avoided such questions himself.

Blackwall cleared his throat. “Perhaps someday you will tell her.”

James nodded, turning his glass carefully between his fingers, the amber liquid lazily sloshing against the rounded sides. Nearly everything Mayra knew about him was a lie. “Yeah. Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

Nassella watched the raven rise up on the mountain winds, wheeling toward the valley that would lead it up over the rocks and icefields to Skyhold. They would know in the fortress before they travelled one mile that the Inquisitor would be back later that day, even though it would take them hours to traverse that same distance.

She was excited. To see everyone, to eat a warm meal, to sleep in her own bed. The travelling had been refreshing, but now it was time to return to the business of keeping Orlais from the hands of Corypheus.

They were about to leave for their climb when another raven flew into the camp, ruffling its feathers after finding its perch. A scout collected the message, then ran it toward Nassella.

“Inquisitor, this is for you. Since you’re here, I don’t need to send it on the next relay…”

Nassella took the rolled parchment. She could see the message was from Leliana, and she wondered what had been so urgent that it couldn’t wait until she returned.

Clothes. The message was about clothes. Nassella shook her head as she deciphered the message, her hart carefully picking its way up the rocky path. The ball was less than a month away, and Leliana wanted her to finalize the list of those attending, so orders could be placed for clothing in Val Royeaux.

“Bad news?” Solas asked. She glanced toward him, realizing she was frowning.

“No, just strange. Leliana wants to know who will need clothes for the ball.”

“Well I imagine dressmakers are in high demand preparing other nobles for the event.”

“Still, it could have waited.” She reread the letter. “They want you to come as a servant.” She braced for his reaction.

“It is understandable.”

Nassella studied his calm expression. “Really? I can insist you have some other position…”

“And what would that be?” Solas asked with a smile. “Apostate mage?”

She squirmed in her saddle. “You’re not my servant.”

“It is for appearances, nothing more.”

“Still…” But she knew he was right, much as she hated it. She sighed. “Only if you will agree.”

“I will help in whatever capacity is necessary.”

Nassella loved him. She really did. He was so proud, and to do this for the Inquisition, for _her_ …

She considered the rest of the letter. “They want to bring Naomi as well.”

She saw Solas frown, but he nodded. “I am not surprised. She could be useful.”

Nassella wasn’t surprised either, and Naomi _could_ be useful. But she had a hard time believing this was the woman’s idea.

 

\----- 

 

Skyhold was just as she had left it. The soldiers training in the yard, merchants hauling their wares through the gate, children playing a game of football, which had started catching on, and animals and people of every color, race, and creed bustling around. It was beautiful, and every time she returned it felt more like home.

Dorian and Varric were there to greet their return, Blackwall, Cullen, and Josephine as well. Cole appeared at her side to take Vir’nehn’s reins after a few moments, and James shouldered his way through the crowd not long after.

Nassella stared at him. He was handsome, as always, and she felt an overwhelming _need_ to run and throw her arms around his neck.

But she didn’t. She had left to get over him, to forget that she loved him. She hadn’t stopped loving him, that was clear from seeing him again, but she was resolved to keep better distance. Travelling with Solas, and him refusing to sleep with her, hadn’t helped her at all. But she didn’t need Solas. She could find a way past James on her own.

So she approached him as she did the others, with a smile and a hug when appropriate. Though, she knew she lingered a moment longer when he leaned down to embrace her, taking those extra seconds to breath in his scent, the sweat clinging to his skin. She whispered, “I missed you.”

They pulled away, looking into his eyes for another second. Then she let him go and turned to Josephine. “Tell Leliana and Vivienne the list seems fine,” she told the ambassador. “Except for Naomi. I want to talk to her.”

“She has already agreed to come,” Josephine said.

Nassella glanced toward Cullen. “I still want to talk to her.”

“I’ll take you to her,” he said.

Cullen led them to the dungeons. “Is she meeting with Alec?” she asked as they passed into the dark, cool underground.

“Yes,” Cullen said stiffly, opening a door with a hard tug. Nassella doubted he would ever be all right with what Naomi was doing.

They entered the dungeons to shouts. “Bitch! I don’t want you’re fucking potion!”

“I’m trying to help…”

“Help?! It was you fucking the Commander that landed me here…!”

“Enough!” Cullen yelled, his voice filling the stony room. Nassella rushed forward, Naomi turning toward them with her eyes wide.

“Ness? You’re back!”

Alec was laughing, leaning against the bars to his cell. Nassella noted the bed, clean sheets, small table… no other cell had such amenities. “Oh great, the knife-ear’s here to fucking save you again.”

“Naomi, he’s hopeless,” Cullen said, reaching for the woman’s arm. “Just let it go…”

“He is not hopeless,” Naomi responded. But she followed them from the room, Alec still yelling after them.

Naomi leaned against the wall once the door was closed. “Creators Naomi, is he always like that?” Nassella asked. She had never wanted this to happen when she let Naomi help the man.

“When he remembers, yes,” the woman said wearily. Her shoulders slumped. “He’s not sick anymore, but he’s still in pain, and I’m sure he hardly sleeps. It’s just a matter of time…”

“Naomi, he clearly doesn’t want your help. You can’t keep coming down here if he treats you like this.”

“He’s just angry. I’ve heard it all by now anyway,” Naomi said stubbornly. “And I have to keep trying. You _know_ that Cullen.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”

Naomi nodded, then turned toward the guard at the door, handing him a small bottle of green liquid. “Give this to him if he changes his mind.”

“He never has,” the man responded gruffly.

Naomi sighed. “I know.”

They returned to the open air, and Naomi pulled Nassella into a hug with a smile. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “How was your trip?”

“We accomplished what we set out to do, and we’re back safely, so I’d say it was a success.”

“Well I’m happy to see you.”

Nassella studied her friend. She looked tired, haggard, and after what she had just seen, Nassella suspected she was stressed.

“Are you feeling all right Naomi? You look tired.”

“Oh, well… I’ve been training a lot the last few days.” She didn’t sound happy.

Nassella sighed, then turned toward Cullen. “When was it decided Naomi would come to Halamshiral?”

“Leliana suggested it a few days ago, and Naomi agreed.”

“Well, I’m not sure I agree.” She turned toward Naomi. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Naomi nodded. “Yes. I want to help. And now I… kind of have to come.”

Nassella frowned. “No you don’t Naomi.”

“Here, we’ll show you. Dagna made something…”

The arcanist beamed when the entered the undercroft, babbling as she dug in a box, pulling out two small silver amulets, green gems sparkling in the light. “Wait until you see this Inquisitor. This will make you so much safer at these peace talks. And to think we never would have realized how we could use Naomi’s fade-touched skin if Sera hadn’t dropped that box…”

Confused, Nassella watched as Dagna handed one of the amulets to Naomi. Then, with the other amulet held firmly in one hand, Dagna went to cut her own skin.

And nothing happened. Nassella’s jaw dropped open, and she looked back to Naomi, who was looking at her with a strange, strained grin on her face, her eyes entirely bright green. “See? I can help you not get hurt while we’re there.”


	82. Shaping the Fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW at the end.
> 
> Also, I've started a companion fic to this one, if you're interested in more smut ;)

Naomi inspected the purple flower, three petaled, six golden-tipped anthers reaching from the center, succulent leaves gracefully curving up, then down toward the ground. She tried to determine what was wrong with its appearance.

_The petals… they need to shine more…_

The shade shifted, the petals shimmered more in the light. Naomi smiled, reaching to gently run the flower between her fingertips. It was a near perfect replica of spiderwort, her favorite prairie species.

She stood and surveyed her work, at the expanse of flowers and grasses spreading as far as she could see in every direction, turkey-footed big bluesteam, golden sunflowers and silphiums, purple liatris and bursts of switchgrass, the hills that were jagged at the beginning of the night smoothed to rolling plains. It was finally here, in the Fade, in Thedas, that she had found the means to experience what an untouched prairie might have looked like, before the pioneers arrived with their plows and fences and fields of corn.

She’d been leaving these prairies scattered across the Fade between Skyhold and Orlais, spending every night they travelled reconstructing the grasslands, living the dream she had left behind on Earth. Every prairie was different, one night a flat expanse of tallgrass, another the undulating sand prairies of Nebraska, the next jagged flint hills. Tonight, she decided, she would finish by creating a savanna. She stared at a hillside, pictured in her mind the rounded shape and twisted branches of open grown bur oaks, smiling as they appeared, gnarled and imperfect.

She walked toward the grove, running her hands through the grass, stopping to admire species she had nearly forgotten as she encountered them. The Fade was strange that way, pulling plants from her mind she had no reason to remember. And the sounds. Above the wind she could hear the sweet songs of meadowlarks, the harsh calls of red-winged blackbirds, the gentle bouncing twitter of a field sparrow.

She passed beneath the shade of the oaks, the grassland calls giving way to woodpeckers and nuthatches and cardinals. She almost cried, looking up at the dappled light drifting through the canopy, remembering times she had done so on Earth. She had taken to creating these prairies back in Skyhold, as the stress of training with Leliana’s agents had taken the fun of doing so in the Fade away. It meant she had to find something else to occupy her mind while she slept.

She had always preferred a bow, but Leliana insisted she improve her use of daggers. As much as Naomi had hit a dummy in the Fade, sparring with actual partners was just as difficult as she remembered from the few weeks she had worked with Nassella. And it wasn’t just the still restricted movement in her shoulder. She had killed unarmed demons in the Fade, and even though she didn’t remember much, Cullen insisted she had been quite proficient at killing demons at Adamant. But she just… couldn’t bring herself to fight with the ferocity she knew was required.

She’d been refreshed in the basics back at Skyhold, but since travelling, had taken to sparring with fighters other than rogues. But her only available partners were her friends. It was difficult, impossible, to try and kill them. Even if it was just pretend.

And she had never been reminded of just how inexperienced she was than when she was with them.

Mages were first. Dorian rode next to her one afternoon, explaining how to approach a mage in a fight, what their weaknesses would be. That night, she sparred with Vivienne. She didn’t use magic, but it was almost more terrifying, the way the mage used her staff alone. Naomi could do little more than block her blows. It didn’t help that she barely knew the other woman and sensed that Vivienne didn’t particularly like her. She had little desire to defeat Vivienne, even if she could.

Most of her time was spent with the warriors, though not equally. Sparring with Cullen was useless. He had balked the first time she missed a block and he struck her. It was just a bruise, but he refused to allow himself to hurt her again, and she learned nothing when all he did was block her advances. Cassandra worked out little better. Naomi was unsure, and the Seeker had little patience for her hesitations. And Naomi knew she did not respond well to the harsh way Cassandra pushed her for more. James was much like Cassandra, but at least Naomi knew him. She could handle _him_ when he got frustrated, could allow herself to get frustrated in return. But he did not hold himself back, ever, and he was too strong for her. She came away with more bruises, to her body and her pride, than anything else. She didn’t even try with Bull, though he often watched and offered advice.

Blackwall, to her surprise, turned out to be her best teacher. He was patient, he recognized she was unsure and accepted it. But he did not go easy on her, just pulled himself back enough so she could learn, so she was challenged but not overwhelmed. He was never frustrated when he pointed out her mistakes or offered advice, and she never felt foolish asking questions. And his advice, that laying a foundation now, frustrating and difficult as it was, would allow her to better defend herself and those she loved when it was required, kept her moving forward.

But she did not like it. She did not like being taught the most efficient ways to kill someone. She had not longed for home as she had these last couple of weeks, but the constant training had her wishing for her simpler life, when the most she had to worry about was a bad grade on a paper, or a setback in an experiment.

_You can still change your mind. No one will make you go._

Naomi turned her gaze toward Serenity, the spirit in her usual form of a deer, gazing at the trees around them. “I need to go. I won’t let Ness go somewhere so dangerous knowing I can help protect her.”

_The amulets hurt you. You should tell them._

Naomi crossed her arms. “It’s just uncomfortable.” But it was more than that. The longer she wore it, whether connected to Nassella or not, the worse it felt.

And Serenity knew it. She was not pleased, and her tail would not stay still. _You are unhappy. At least ask to not fight…_

“I’m going,” Naomi said, raising her voice slightly. She had this conversation with the spirit nearly every night, but she would not change her mind. “I am not staying behind, and I will fight while I’m there, if it comes to that. It would be selfish not to. I can’t hide. I have less reason than most to be afraid.”

Serenity kept flicking her tail, stomped a slender leg. _Not from physical harm. But you still see her face. Killing again will hurt…_

“Enough!” Naomi yelled. She didn’t want to think about the Warden. Not when she thought of that woman every time she trained. “I know how I feel about killing, I don’t need you to remind me!”

Serenity coughed, her white tail flashed, and before Naomi could blink she was bounding through the trees, tail waving in surrender as she disappeared from view.

“Wait!” Naomi called after the animal. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off. The spirit was gone, and Naomi felt guilt clench her chest. She needed to remember that Serenity was a spirit, sensitive to her emotions and moods. Serenity stayed with her because she helped the creature remember what it was. But she wasn’t helping by getting angry.

Naomi sat against the trunk of a tree and closed her eyes. She couldn’t deny that the spirit had a point. She had considered changing her mind, of asking Cullen and Nassella to let her stay behind. But Dagna’s invention made that an impossible thing to consider. She was too valuable now. She was going to this ball, and she was going to help. And she could handle a little pain. James did every time he fought, Cullen did, Nassella did…

“Naomi?”

She jumped, opening her eye to see Solas standing above her. She hadn’t seen him in the Fade in weeks. “Hi Solas,” she said, standing. It was strange to see him here. It ruined the illusion of what she had created with the savanna. She couldn’t pretend she was home.

“I hope I am not disturbing you.”

Naomi shrugged. “No. I was just…” Trying to recreate her old life. Remember when she didn’t have to fight.

Solas was looking around, inspecting her trees and grasses and flowers. “This is impressive,” he said. Naomi couldn’t deny the pride that swept through her. She had found making these prairies easier every night, and she looked forward to her time in the Fade almost more than her waking hours. She probably would, if her waking hours didn’t include spending time with Cullen.

“Thank you.” Then she smiled. “Do you want to learn about it?”

Solas smiled. “Please.”

Naomi had nearly forgotten how much she enjoyed teaching, and Solas was a receptive student, far better than most undergrads she had taught during graduate school. And it gave her a chance to explore her own prairie in even more detail.

“Oh look!” she exclaimed when she found one of her favorite grasses. “Side-oats grama. See how the seeds hang off the side like that? Bouteloua curtipendula is the scientific name. I like it because of the ‘pendula’ part and how it sounds like pendulum…” She trailed off, realizing she was rambling. She lowered the hand that had been holding up the seed head. “Sorry. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

Solas shook his head. “Do not apologize. It is clear you enjoy this grassland.”

Naomi smiled, looking around. “I really do.”

They were silent for a moment, then Solas spoke. “The Fade has never known a Dreamer like you.”

Naomi frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The memories you bring, the things you create. They are entirely novel, and will mark the Fade forever.”

Naomi’s frown deepened, and she bit the inside of her lip. She hadn’t thought about it like that, and suddenly she felt self-conscious, worried that she had been doing something wrong. “Is it bad that I do this?”

“No,” he assured her. “The Fade is shaped from memory and thought. Yours belong now just as much as anyone born here.”

Naomi relaxed. “It’s strange,” she mused, turning toward Solas. “You said Earth must be connected to the Fade… but it doesn’t seem like they really interact. Everything I’ve seen here is based on Thedas. And until we were brought here, I’ve never heard of anything coming across the Veil or anything.”

“There does appear to be a greater separation,” Solas replied. “I will admit I am not entirely certain how it is possible, how the Veil could exist…” His voice trailed off, this thoughts continuing in his head.

“I’ve just been thinking they’re different layers in the fabric of space-time,” Naomi offered. Then she shrugged. “But I really have no idea either. I’ve just decided to accept it’s possible… somehow…”

“It may be the best we can hope for.”

They lapsed into silence, and Naomi considered that she had never asked why Solas had found her. “Did you meet me here for a reason?” she asked. “You don’t usually come around anymore.”

Solas nodded. “Cole mentioned you had made a friend here in the Fade. I wanted to ensure you were safe.”

Naomi frowned. She had decided to trust Serenity, as far as she could trust something she would likely never fully understand. But perhaps that had been a mistake. “I met a spirit. I guess I thought it would be all right to speak with it. She hasn’t asked for anything.”

“It likely is. But I’ll admit I was also curious.” He tilted his head slightly. “I saw you together.”

Naomi flushed, remembering how Serenity had run away from her. “I got a little angry. I didn’t mean to scare her away.”

“Her?”

“She always appears like a doe... well, usually like a doe. I know she doesn’t really have a gender.”

Solas nodded. “Do you know what kind it is?”

“Serenity.”

Solas’ lips lifted in the ghost of a smile. “A rare spirit.” He studied her. “Have you spoken often?”

Naomi nodded. “She’s been around almost every night for the past few weeks. I guess I talk the most…” Until recently. Serenity had increasingly had more to say. “But she helps with the plants sometimes. They’re never quite right, but I think she enjoys making them.”

Solas chuckled. “Yes, spirits are not always the best at recreating our memories. Their understanding of the physical world is incomplete.”

“So you think I’ll be safe with her?”

Solas nodded. “You will always need to be cautious, of course, but I see no harm in interacting with Serenity. I myself have made several friends in the Fade.”

Naomi relaxed some more. She liked Serenity’s company. She would have missed the gentle deer if Solas had suggested she try to stay away.

“I will leave you to your prairie,” Solas said. “Unless you have any further questions.”

Naomi began to shake her head, then changed her mind. “What do you do in the Fade every night?” she asked the elf. “I’m surprised I don’t see you more often.”

“I travel,” Solas said simply.

Naomi frowned. “Travel?”

Solas lips were turned up slightly as he smiled. “It is not required you stay where you fall asleep. Though it helps to roughly return to the area where your body is located when waking, especially for an inexperienced Dreamer.”

“Oh,” Naomi said, surprised. “I didn’t realize.”

“You travelled a great distance when searching for your brother.”

“I guess that’s true,” Naomi responded. She wasn’t sure what to do with this information. She had always enjoyed travelling…

“Perhaps as you grow more confident you will wander further afield.”

“Yeah, I might,” she responded.

Serenity didn’t come back for the rest of the night. Or the next. Naomi began to fear she would never return.

Then on the third night, the night after they crossed into Orlais, the spirit reappeared. But not alone.

Cole stood next to the deer, a hand gently placed on her withers. Naomi was surprised to see them together, but she immediately thought that was ridiculous. Surely spirits interacted with each other.

 _Compassion has a suggestion_ , Serenity said, bending down to nibble on fresh blades of grass. Naomi’s prairie that night was a spring grassland, growing after a fresh burn, dainty violets casting the bright green with a dusting of purple as far as she could see.

Naomi looked to Cole with her eyebrows raised. Cole scuffed his feet through the ashy dirt. “You don’t always need a weapon to fight,” he said softly.

Naomi sighed. She knew that already. She wished she could use politics, like Josephine, or words or secrets or… anything else. But she didn’t have time to try and suddenly become a confident negotiator. And words usually couldn’t defend against a sword in the heat of battle. “Here, I do,” she responded.

Cole just scuffed his feet some more. Serenity flicked her tail.

 

* * *

 

James watched as Naomi wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead with a sleeve, readjusting the grip on her daggers while she glared at him. He just shook out his shoulders, preparing to rush her again.

They’d been sparring for an hour, and James knew she was getting frustrated. But he wasn’t about to hold back.

He moved quickly, suddenly, and Naomi barely had enough time to raise her blades before his own was slamming into them, the clang of dulled metal striking dulled metal ringing through the clearing. Naomi pushed back and James quickly swung toward her side. Naomi blocked him again, but not quite as quickly, and she lost one of her blades.

“Slow down!” she yelled as he swung again. She twisted away this time, avoiding his blade altogether, and swung for his body. But she was too slow, and he easily deflected the blow.

“No one’s going to go slowly in a real fight!” he responded. Naomi grunted in frustration, backing up slightly, trying to get out of the reach of his blade. He followed.

“I know that,” she said through gritted teeth. “But I can’t learn if you don’t…”

“You’re doing fine, Naomi,” Blackwall offered from the clearing’s edge. He uncrossed his arms and approached. James lowered his blade. “Remember, you’ll have the advantage of being faster than most warriors. Don’t waste your energy trying to block and push back against his blows when you can avoid them altogether.”

“I know, I know!’ Naomi said, frustrated. “I just… can’t get my mind to keep up…”

Blackwall placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. That will come better with experience. And remember, you won’t be alone. It’s unlikely you’ll find yourself facing someone like James by yourself.”

“But what if I do?” Naomi asked, rubbing her face. “There’s no way I can take down someone like him.”

“You’re fade-touched,” Blackwall said, dropping his hand. “As long as you don’t get hit too hard, some mistakes won’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

Naomi took a deep breath, then nodded, moving to retrieve her fallen blade. She turned back toward James and readied herself for another go.

He disarmed her three more times.

The fourth time he knocked a blade from her hand, drawing a small cry of pain from her throat, her face twisted in a scowl, and suddenly she was rushing him, her blade raised.

James moved to strike her, but she caught the blow on her arm, twisting around until her hand wrapped around the blade. Surprised, James tried to pull it away, but she just grabbed it with her other hand, and her momentum carried her forward until she was slamming into him. He stumbled, and then a sharp pain shot through his shin.

“Fuck!”

And then his blade was gone with a tug. He looked up, Naomi standing a few paces away, his sword pointed toward him.

“You can’t fucking do that!” he yelled. “You can’t just grab someone’s blade…”

“Can to!” Naomi responded in kind. “It’s not like it’s going to cut me!’

James opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. She was right. She could grab the sharpest blade in the world and nothing would happen. Even he might lose a finger or limb if he let someone strike him anywhere…

And then he heard Blackwall laughing. And he wasn’t alone.

James glanced toward the spectators, face flooding with heat seeing Bull, Dorian, Leliana, Cullen, Nassella, Solas… all watching.

Naomi noticed them as well, and she quickly lowered the sword she was holding, her face flushing even redder. She looked toward the ground, tugging at the lower hem of her tunic.

“Not exactly pretty, but it was certainly effective,” Dorian said through a chuckle.

“Come on James, you can’t let yourself get disarmed that easily,” Bull added with a grin.

James scowled, moving to retrieve his sword from Naomi’s hand. “You didn’t have to kick me,” he mumbled.

“It’s what made you drop it,” she responding, relinquishing the weapon.

“Well, don’t think it will happen again.” He couldn’t believe he had allowed it to happen at all.

“It just has to work once,” Blackwall said, approaching them once more. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind, but I like where you’re coming from Naomi. Maybe you should spar without weapons more often. It could be useful in a pinch.”

And then Naomi laughed, and James could see some of the tension gone from the set of her shoulders. “That’s what Cole meant!”

“What?” James asked.

“Cole just mentioned fighting without weapons. I thought he meant like… with politics and stuff. I didn’t think he meant literally…” She shook her head and grinned.

James realized he he’d never seen her smiling while training with her.

“I agree,” Leliana added. The others had all moved closer. “Fighting without a weapon would be less expected. It could work to your advantage.”

Naomi’s grin had faded, but she nodded.

“You’ll still need to be careful you don’t get too close to get caught by your opponent, but I’ve actually been thinking of practicing with the amulets, so I can get used to allowing myself to get hit while fighting. You could do the same Naomi,” Nassella offered.

Naomi’s grin was entirely gone, and she swallowed before answering. “Yeah, we can do that.”

Nassella grinned. “First, we want to test the Anchor while wearing them. Solas thinks it’s important.”

Solas nodded. “The amulets work by increasing your affinity to the Fade, sending energy from your body to Nassella’s. It’s possible the Anchor could interfere.”

Naomi was nodding. “That makes sense. I’ll go get it…”

Once everyone was set, Nassella slipped one amulet over her neck and under her shirt, making sure the metal contacted her skin. Naomi gripped hers in her hand.

James wished something Dagna had shoved into his hands, realizing now what she had been trying to do, had worked with him. He would rather be the one to transfer his abilities to Nassella than Naomi, so his sister didn’t have to fight. He wasn’t entirely sure why nothing had worked for him. Dagna thought it was simply because they didn’t have the correct materials. James suspected it was related to Naomi’s different dreaming.

He returned his attention to Nassella as she lifted her hand. He felt the energy rippling through the clearing, running over his skin and causing his hairs to rise, as she activated the Anchor. There was no rift, but she could still simulate reaching for the Fade, disrupting the Veil. She often used this ability to damage demons…

A spot above the clearing began to glow faintly green. James watched Nassella as she scrunched her brow, concentrating on her work…

And then she stopped with a gasp, scrambling to remove the amulet from her shirt. “Fenedhis!” she exclaimed. “That’s hot!”

James started to step forward, thinking to make sure she was unharmed, but Solas was far closer. James stopped, turning his attention to his sister, hoping no one noticed his slip. He’d thought he could do better around her, but then she’d whispered _I missed you_ when she returned from Caer Oswin…

He didn’t know why she’d said that. She was the one who’d left him behind. It was confusing…

Naomi had dropped the amulet to the grass, and was inspecting her hand with her own frown on her face. James walked toward her, but Cullen had beat him there as well. He suddenly felt entirely unneeded.

Still, he approached, and looked on as Cullen took Naomi’s hand, a slight patch of red left on her palm. “Well, I suppose that answers that question,” the other man murmured, gently turning her hand in the light. “Does this hurt?”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s just a small burn. It will be fine.”

Cullen nodded, then looked toward Nassella. “If you must use the Anchor, you’ll need to remove the amulet first.”

“Yes,” Solas added. “I feared this would be the case. There is too much interacting magic. It overwhelms the link between the amulets.”

“That’s all right,” Nassella said. “Hopefully it won’t be a problem at the Winter Palace.”

“We have heard of no rifts in Halamshiral,” Leliana added. “There should be little concern.”

“It’s good we found out now. Blackwall, spar with me? I want to try out this amulet while fighting. I still need to get used to the buzzing…”

James sat next to Naomi as Nassella and Blackwall sparred. He tried not to stare, but he loved watching Nassella while she moved…

She allowed Blackwall to strike her, though she moved with the blows, minimizing the impact and using it against Blackwall. Even knowing what she was doing, he couldn’t entirely compensate for the change in tactics, and she dominated their match.

When they were finished, James glanced toward Naomi and frowned. She was wrapped around her legs, her head resting on her arms, clutching the amulet too tightly in her hand…

“You ok Naomi?”

She looked up, her lips pressed together too tightly. “What?”

“You don’t look so good.”

She cleared her throat and lowered her legs so she was sitting cross-legged in the grass. “I’m just tired.” Then she tried to grin. “Fighting you takes a lot out of me.”

James chuckled. “You know I won’t let you beat me again.”

She laughed back. “We’ll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

Naomi groaned, shifted beneath him, and wrapped her legs more fully around his, pulling them closer together. Cullen sighed, pleasure rolling through his entire body as she clenched around him, her lips gently pulling on his, her hands buried in his hair, their bodies pressed together entirely...

He hadn’t intended for them to end up like this. Naomi was so tired every night. They were pushing her too hard with the training, and he knew she was stressed. But when they retired to their tent that night, she had crawled into the bedroll next to him, naked. Then she’d kissed him, draped a leg over his hip, drew herself close and taken his cock in her hand…

They were in the middle of camp, several in their party still talking around the campfire a few meters away, but he’d eased himself between her legs, into the exquisite heat and wet of _her,_ rocked gently as his fingers working her clit until she had shuddered around him, a soft sigh, almost a whimper, breathed into his mouth.

But he wasn’t finished, so he’d gently rolled on top of her, and that was how they had been for more moments than he could keep track of, entwined, slowly moving, grinding into one another, against each other, lips locked as they breathed and groaned and sighed with each other.

They’d never gone this slowly, and Cullen didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to come, because it meant he would have to pull away from her skin, from her sex, and the aching pleasure that permeated his entire body would end, the _sounds_ she made would end…

He adjusted his angle during his next slow thrust, and the way she tightened around him, _moaned_ , almost had him coming before he could stop.

“Ja…” she breathed, her hands wandering, gripping for purchase. “Zoals dat…” _Like that…_

He repeated the motion, followed by a slow, circular grind against her clit…

“Oh ja… daar… niet stoppen…,” she whimpered, begged, and Cullen kept going, again, and again. She was close, _he_ was close, but the way she was gasping and pushing desperately against him was too sweet, too good, and he chased the pleasure mounting in his body until there was nothing else, until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and hers began…

He fell when she did, the tight grip of her sex sending the tension in his body over the edge. “Cullen,” she whispered against his lips, her breaths short, and Cullen kissed her, shallowly pumping into her until he was spent, spilling every drop of his seed as she clenched around him, until the tension in his body was entirely gone.

For several moments he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He could only lay with Naomi’s body pressed to his, his forehead resting against hers.

“You are amazing,” he eventually breathed. “This is amazing…”

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve her. How could his life be _this_ , include _her…_

Naomi sighed, her hands stroking her face, her legs moving against his. He lifted his weight off of her slightly. Her eyes were open, and he could perfectly imagine the blue of her eyes, even in the dark.

It was what he found most unsettling about the amulets. He couldn’t get used to the way her eyes were changed by them, the way they glowed. The touch of green was one thing, but to have her appearance so altered by this magic…

He wished it hadn’t come to this. He didn’t want her to think she _had_ to do anything. But she was determined, and no one else wanted to argue. How could they?

Naomi shifted again, and Cullen realized she was uncomfortable. And then she yawned, her breath falling warm across his lips.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Cullen finally pulled away, out of her. He was tired too, he realized. Travelling was exhausting enough, but she had been sparring so much, training so much.

“You should take a break tomorrow,” he said as she sat up and reached for a cloth to clean herself. She handed one to him.

“I can’t,” she said, settling back down. “I need more experience…”

Cullen followed her, adjusting until they were wrapped around each other. “You need breaks, Naomi. Time to recover, time to think. Even I never trained every day when becoming a Templar.”

Naomi’s fingers here running across the skin of his back, following the contours of a scar. “James will want a rematch,” she murmured. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Disarming him once doesn’t erase the multiple times he’s bested you.”

She laughed softly. “I wounded his pride.”

It had been rather funny, the shock that had crossed James’ features when he’d looked up to find his blade firmly in Naomi’s hands. But Cullen didn’t want her to be over-confident. “It won’t be so easy, to disarm someone like that in a real fight,” he told her. His eyes were growing heavy.

“I know,” she said, yawning again. “But… it felt good, to beat someone just once…”

Yes. That boost in confidence couldn’t hurt. And she had far more experience than she seemed to realize.

“You should get some sleep,” he whispered.

But she was already gone. Cullen looked at her face, at the way her mouth was hanging slightly open, and smiled. She’d always been able to fall asleep easily, when she wasn’t afraid of her dreams, but these last few days she’d dropped into sleep even more quickly than usual.

Yes, she was exhausted.

He gently adjusted her hair, thinking about her eyes again. They were so blue, striking even without the fade-touched green. He loved looking at them, especially when they were making love, when he was spilling himself inside of her…

He wondered if her children would have blue eyes like hers. He wondered if the green would transfer. He remembered his mother had had blue eyes. Perhaps their children...

Cullen stopped, his hand stalling where it rested against her cheek.

_No. There will be no children._

_If_ he believed her. If she was right about them not matching up. That being from different worlds would rob them of the possibility of a family.

He still wasn’t sure he believed her. He prayed she was wrong. His chest ached to think she was right. But he couldn’t be thinking about children, not now. She was right about one thing. Now was not the time.

And they should really marry before they considered children…

_Marriage…_

Cullen swallowed. Maker... he wanted to marry her, if he was thinking about having children with her…

And he did. He would marry her, if she would have him.

But it was also not the time for that. He couldn’t in good conscious ask Naomi to marry him when the future was so uncertain, when he couldn’t _promise_ her a future. A future with _him_.

It was even clearer now, if that was possible, just how important it was they not fail in Halamshiral.


	83. Dress-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Middle section is NSFW.

Nassella stood as still as she could, her arms elevated slightly from her sides, while Vivienne fastened the sash at her hip.

“There,” Vivienne said as she finished her work. “Why don’t you take a look?” Nassella turned toward the mirror, and looked at the short, slim woman reflected on its shining surface.

First she looked at her face. Her nose was a little too large, her lips too thin. Her hair hung below her shoulders in a straight fall of dark brown, framing a heart-shaped face with the lightest dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Otherwise clear skin was marked with the spreading purple branches of Mythal.

It was almost the face of a stranger. She had not spent her life looking in mirrors. In the forests of the Free Marches all that was available to her were muddy puddles and the occasional river pool. Those looks had been fleeting, murky, and she did not dwell on them. People said she looked like her sister, and that was usually what she imagined when she thought of her own face.

But shems loved their mirrors, and this one was finely made, the image clear. She could see every detail in her features, and every detail in the dress she was wearing. It was hard to recognize the person standing before her.

The dress was simultaneously rigid and delicate, militaristic and gentle. Hammered metal, reminiscent of plate armor and gilded with gold, wrapped her torso to the waist, shaping and lifting what existed of her breasts toward her bare shoulders. It was stern. Sever. But below… charcoal chiffon draped over a waterfall of dark silk, flowing from her waist to the floor, a slit opened to the top of one thigh. Embroidered into the sheer fabric with golden thread and drops of emerald were branches and leaves and flowers…

It was beautiful. It was e _xpensive._ Nassella didn’t even want to know how much it had cost. She didn’t want to think about what could have been bought with the money, what her clan could have done with such riches.

And it wasn’t her. She wore simple clothes made from simple fabrics, patched when use wore them too thin. Her clothes were more often decorated with dirt than gems…

“We’ll do something with your hair, of course,” Vivienne was saying. “But this came together quite nicely. No further adjustments need to be made. All eyes will be on you…”

Yes… all eyes on the Dalish elf, playing dress-up, in over her head…

“What do you think my dear?”

_I don’t belong in a dress like this. I don’t belong here…_

“It’s… Dalish,” she told the mage instead. And it was. The design etched into the metal corset were nearly an exact replica of those she had embroidered into her own clothing. Designs her clan had used her entire life…

“Yes,” Vivienne said, adjusting the sash. “There is no hiding what you are, my dear, and no one will forget. Use your heritage as your strength. Do not hide it.”

Nassella glanced toward Vivienne, and the mage gave her one of her rare smiles. Nassella nodded back, then looked back at her reflection.

This dress may not be her, may not be what she would have ever imagined herself wearing. But she was more than just a Dalish elf. She was the Inquisitor. She was the leader of the organization best suited to stop Corypheus, that had been fighting him from the beginning. She would go to this ball, she would wear this dress, she would charm every noble she could…

And she would stop Corypheus from succeeding. Her clan was dead because of him, and she would not shy away because she was uncomfortable.

It was not what they would have wanted. It was not what _she_ wanted.

“Thank you Vivienne,” Nassella said, running her hands over the draping skirts. “It’s beautiful.” But then she frowned. “I’m afraid if I must fight…”

“The skirts can be adjusted, hiked up, like so…” Vivienne pulled at the fabric, until it was bundled away from the floor, wrapped around her legs so she could move more freely. She tested her range of movement, finding the bodice surprisingly unrestricting. She could strap a dagger to her leg, just in case, and wearing the amulet meant her bare arms wouldn’t be a problem…

She could make this work.

Vivienne had moved across the room to stand next to Leliana, where a seamstress was marking the hem a final time on Naomi’s skirts. Nassella studied her friend, standing with hunched shoulders and arms crossed. She looked no more comfortable with her wardrobe than Nassella felt.

Naomi’s dress was much simpler than Nassella’s in style, though it was still expertly crafted, as befit a lady-in-waiting to the Inquisition’s ambassador. Dressed in shades of deep green brocade, accented with rich velveteen and bright green peridot embroidered along the neckline, Nassella knew the colors of Naomi’s clothes had been carefully chosen. When wearing the silverite amulet, Naomi’s eyes would match the dress as her body channeled the power of the Fade.

Even with her hair falling loose and slightly tangled over one shoulder, Naomi was striking. She was tall, and the dress was cut well, accenting her figure. Nassella suspected it was what made her friend uncomfortable, confirmed when Naomi tugged slightly at the top of the dress and cleared her throat.

“It’s… a little low…” she said hesitantly.

Nassella had to agree. Naomi already had more to work with, and the dress cut low across her chest, revealing far more than her usual clothing. There was no doubt Vivienne had had a hand in designing all of their clothing.

“It is the fashion, my dear. And you have a lovely figure, we don’t want to hide it. Though I wish you would reconsider the corset. It would give more definition to your waist.”

Naomi shook her head, grimacing slightly. “It’s too constricting.”

Leliana nodded in agreement. “She needs to be able to move, Vivienne.” Then she reached to adjust Naomi’s skirts. “You were shown how to tie back the skirts, should you need to fight?”

Naomi swallowed. “Yes,” she said, her voice a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Are you sure no one will suspect I have blades beneath it?”

Leliana laughed softly. “I am certain some will suspect, but unless you let someone underneath them, no one will be the wiser.”

Naomi flushed pink, then let out a long breath, standing up straighter. “Well, it feels comfortable enough. I’ve never… worn something this nice.” She looked down, running her fingers along the soft velveteen.

A door opened behind them. “Vivienne, are you sure about this? It seems a little tight.” Cullen had entered from the adjacent room, where the men were getting fitted, looking down and adjusting the buttons on his jacket. Nassella thought his clothes looked quite nice.

Vivienne sighed. “It is the style, Commander.”

“That’s what the tailor said, but I’m not sure…” He looked up, and Nassella watched as he stopped, his mouth dropped slightly open, and his eyes, grown wide, dropped down, then up, then down again…

He’d seen Naomi, and when Nassella glanced toward the other woman, she saw her face turning even pinker, the flush spreading down her neck. Nassella looked back at Cullen, and the heat she saw settling into his gaze almost had her aching. She looked down at her own dress, wondering if Solas would look at her like that. If James…

Leliana giggled. Vivienne sighed again. “Come Commander, you may close your mouth now. You were saying something about your jacket?”

Cullen blinked, snapped his mouth shut. His face quickly grew just as red as Naomi’s, but his eyes stayed locked on her. “My jacket…”

“I will take a look,” Vivienne said, moving to approach him. “Perhaps…”

“No,” Cullen said quickly, finally tearing his eyes from Naomi. He started backing toward the door. “It will be fine. I’ll just…” His eyes returned to Naomi, and he swallowed slowly as he looked her over one last, slow time. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he mumbled, then quickly turned and disappeared through the door, pulling it loudly shut behind him.

Nassella couldn’t help but grin. There weren’t many things that could fluster Cullen, but Naomi had always been one of them. Still, Nassella had never seen him quite so caught off guard.

“I knew our Commander was smitten,” Leliana said to Naomi, still giggling. “But I didn’t realize you could rob him of all sense. I’m afraid he will be utterly useless at surveillance when you are in the same room...”

Naomi was bright red. “He’ll be fine,” she said, fiddling with her sleeves. “It’s just a dress.”

“Of course he will be fine,” Vivienne said, readjusting Naomi’s skirts once more. She stood back, looking Naomi over just as Cullen had. “Though he likely won’t be your only admirer at this masquerade.” Nassella suspected she knew what Naomi thought of that as she tried once more to tug the dress up.

 

* * *

 

Naomi inspected her dress, running her fingers along the soft velveteen, waiting as Nassella changed out of her own finery. She had changed into a simpler dress herself, cut higher across the chest, and was much more comfortable for it, but she couldn’t reconcile her feelings for the green gown in front of her.

She’d always liked green. She liked the fabrics, and largely, she liked the cut. She’d never had a dress made specifically for her body, and that extra care showed. It fit perfectly, comfortably, and she had to admit that she liked the way she looked in it.

But it was so low. She felt like her cleavage was on display, and _that_ was something she had avoided in her clothing from essentially the time she had developed breasts.

Cullen’s reaction didn’t help. The way he looked at her sent her heart racing, but it was a little strange, because he never looked at her like that unless they were alone. Still… she liked that he seemed to like the gown. She _wanted_ him to look at her like that.

But that didn’t mean she wanted others to do so, as Vivienne had suggested they might.

“Are you sure it’s fine?” Nassella asked, stepping from behind the changing screen, dressed now in a simple tunic and breeches. “I’m sure we could find something else for you to wear.”

Naomi shook her head. “No, no. It’s fine. I don’t want to be difficult…” And she really didn’t. She should have said something the first time she tried on the dress. And now, the ball was tomorrow…

“It wouldn’t be a problem,” Nassella said softly.

Naomi sighed, wishing she could have hidden her discomfort better. “It’s really fine. Women wear dresses like this all the time.”

“That’s true, but it’s understandable if you don’t,” Nassella said. Then she stepped forward, reaching to run her hands over the fabric. “You do look very beautiful in it,” she added.

Naomi licked her lips. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You looked beautiful too.”

Nassella grimaced slightly. “I feel like an imposter wearing that thing.” She crossed her arms. “But I suppose it’s fitting for the Inquisitor. And it’s what the Orlesians are expecting.” Then she sighed. “I’ll just be glad when tomorrow is over.”

Naomi nodded in agreement. “Me too. I… had hoped I wouldn’t still be so nervous.” And she was. At the prospect of walking into peace talks hiding weapons, of potentially fighting, of wearing those damned amulets for an entire night…

Nassella chuckled softly. “I know what you mean.”

Naomi smirked, trying to push aside her apprehension. “That’s not very encouraging,” she joked. It didn’t make her feel better.

Nassella laughed. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Nassella nodded, then looked toward the door. “I suppose we should get going. Dinner will be served soon.” Then she reached and squeezed Naomi’s arm. “Don’t worry too much. You’re prepared for this.” Then she smiled. “And if we play our cards right, we won’t even have to do any fighting. You’ll be dancing with Cullen before midnight.”

Naomi looked back at the gown. “Cullen doesn’t dance.”

“Oh I think he’ll change his mind about that.”

Naomi snorted, then started walking toward the door. “Well, regardless, I’ll hope for the no fighting version of the night. I’d rather not have to pull those daggers from beneath my skirts.”

“You and me both.”

They started their way through the maze of corridors and stairways in the nobleman’s home they were staying in near Halamshiral, slowly making their way toward the dining room. They were nearly there when they ran into Cullen. Naomi immediately felt her face start to heat, and her sex pulsed slightly. Cullen may have liked seeing her dress, but seeing him again reminded Naomi of how good _he_ had looked in his own finery…

“Good evening, Nassella,” he said with a nod, greeting the elf. “I apologize for walking in on your fitting session earlier.”

Nassella shrugged. “Don’t worry about it Cullen.” Then she smirked. “You looked very handsome.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Thank you.” He turned toward Naomi, clearing his throat again. “Could we talk Naomi?” He didn’t quite make eye contact.

Confused, Naomi nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Nassella said with a wink, moving down the hall. Naomi saw her run into James as her brother arrived from a different corridor. They greeted each other with smiles, continuing on side by side.

“What’s up?” Naomi asked, looking back to Cullen. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again and grabbed her hand to pull her toward a door in the hallway. Naomi’s heart immediately began to race, the heat between her legs throbbing with more urgency. She wished they didn’t have to meet everyone for dinner. She’d much rather take him back to their room…

He led them into what turned out to be some sort of unused sitting room, sheets covering the furniture and the curtains drawn, leaving the light dim. Cullen shut the door behind them, then sighed. “I wanted to apologize,” he said, turning back toward her. He still wouldn’t look at her. “For earlier.”

Naomi frowned. It was not what she had expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. “When I walked in on you getting fitted. I shouldn’t have looked at you like… that. I should have been more professional.”

Oh. The dress. That look. But she hadn’t been uncomfortable. Far from it.

“I liked it,” she said softly. But Cullen frowned, still worried he had hurt her in some way. Naomi stepped forward, and took one of his hands in hers. “Liefje,” she said gently, reassuringly. “I don’t mind that you liked the dress. I w _ant_ you to find me attractive…”

That drew a deeper frown from his face, and he finally met her gaze. “Do you not….? I think you’re attractive Naomi. You don’t need to be wearing a dress for that…” He paused, then shook his head. “I mean… you don’t need a gown. You’re beautiful in nothing but breeches…” He closed his eyes. “Maker, I’m making a mess of this…”

Naomi laughed. She stepped closer, slipping her arms around his waist. His hands found her hips, almost as a reflex. “You haven’t done anything wrong Cullen,” she said. “It’s a beautiful dress. You can think I’m beautiful in it.” He opened his eyes and looked into hers, then nodded. She smiled a little broader. “You looked pretty sexy yourself…”

The shift in his demeanor was almost too fast to follow. One moment he was frowning, hesitant to meet her gaze. The next, his eyes dropped to her lips, and then his mouth was on hers, his hand in her hair, the other on her ass…

He moaned, pulling on her lips with teeth, his breaths coming heavier as he drew their bodies together.  Naomi could feel him growing hard through their clothing, and she gripped at his back while he dove into her mouth.

_This_ is what she thought he had wanted when he pulled her into this room. This is what had been near the front of her mind since he’d looked at her like he wanted to rip that dress from her body and have her right there in the fitting room…

He pulled away far too soon, leaving her face numb and her body aching. Cullen rested his forehead against hers while he caught his breath. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he said hoarsely.

Naomi grinned, leaning up to place a few small kisses along his lips. “Is that all you wanted to do?” She whispered, knowing it wasn’t. He was incredibly hard, his voice thick…

_Maybe we can skip dinner. Surely they’ll be leftovers in the kitchen…_

But he didn’t suggest they go back to their room. No, he just kissed her again, gripped her hips, guided her back across the room…

Her legs hit something hard, the edge of some sort of table, and Cullen pushed against her, nudging a leg between hers so he could grind his erection against her body. She kissed him back, matching the urgency of his lips with her own, working her hands beneath his tunic so she could run her hands along the smooth, muscled expanse of his back, pushing it up until he pulled back just enough to pull the garment over his head and toss it away. She had barely a second to look at his chest, at the sculpted muscle dusted with golden hairs, before his hands were back on her body, his mouth back on hers. He gripped at her hip, ran his fingers from her breasts to her waist, used a hand to tug up the hem of her dress until she felt cool air against her legs. And then his hand was moving along her thigh, across her smalls, tugging at the strings holding the underclothes together.

“I’ll stop,” Cullen groaned against her lips, his fingers already working under her clothing and toward her sex.

“Don’t you dare,” Naomi gasped, spreading her legs further. As if they could stop now and go to dinner…

Cullen growled, sinking his hand into the folds between her legs, slick with arousal, hot and throbbing and aching for release. Naomi groaned, urging her hips forward and against his hand, simultaneously pushed back as Cullen grabbed her ass, lifted and perched her on the table’s edge.

He was centered between her legs, one hand buried in her sex, working at her clit, the other tugging her smalls further down her thighs. Naomi held him as tight as she could, her lips locked with his. Her heart was racing and her entire body coursed with pleasure as Cullen’s fingers drove her higher and higher, faster than she thought possible…

And then he pulled away, from her lips and from her sex. “Cullen!” she gasped, begged. “Don’t stop…” She was so close, and the unsatisfying ache coursing through her core demanded friction.

Cullen grunted, using both hands to pull her smalls entirely down her legs, freeing her feet from their confines. He gathered her skirts again, sliding one hand up her thigh while he tugged at his own breeches. “I won’t last if you come now,” he gasped. He was holding her hip too tight, struggling with his clothes. Naomi could see him straining against the fabric. Aching to feel him, she slid her hands over his body and down the ridges of his stomach, pulling at the ties of his breeches, loosening them until she could slide them down his hips, free his erection…

She ran her hand along the length of his cock, watching as Cullen closed his eyes and let out a shuddering moan. Her sex pulsed.

And then he was leaning forward, taking her lips once more with his, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, spreading her legs wide. She clutched at his back, hooked her legs around his, and adjusted her hips until the head of his cock pushed hot between her legs.

He pulled her toward him as he rolled his hips into her, drove himself into her sex. It tore a moan from Naomi’s lips, and her mind went blank as the entirely of her existence shrank to Cullen’s lips still pulling at hers, his fingers digging into her hips, his cock pushing and stretching her walls to bursting…

He was moving, quickly driving her back to the edge his fingers had left her on, the table shaking with the force of his thrusts, not rough, but not exactly gentle either. Naomi closed her eyes and clung to his body, moved one hand to feel the clench of his muscles and sweat forming on his back, the other pushing his breeches further down so she could grip his ass, pulling at the hard, moving flesh as if it could actually bring him closer. They were no longer kissing, but the trail of fire Cullen’s lips left as he worked his way along her jaw and down her neck left Naomi gasping, the sound of Cullen’s own grunts and groans and whispers of her name in her ear.

She was not silent either. She could never remember what she said, afterwards, but Cullen always said it was a mix of his name, _I love you_ , expletives, and yes, yes, yes…

“Fuck!” she cried when Cullen worked a finger between them and found her clit, circling and working it as he leaned her even further back while he moved. Her entire body shuddered, and she felt the muscles in her core, wrapped tight around his cock, start to fire. “Cullen, I’m…” Anything she was going to say was lost as she came, words turned to moans in her throat, fire spreading from her core to every corner of her body with a sudden jolt, _nothing_ existing for several seconds but pure, aching pleasure…

Cullen groaned, erratically pumping as she tensed around him. “Maker Naomi,” he gasped, still pulling her hips into his. One of his hands fell to the table with a thump. “Fuck…” And then he was coming, groaning into her neck as he thrust one last time, burying himself as deeply as he could. A rush of warmth spread deep inside, and Naomi let out a shuddering breath as Cullen’s cock pulsed against her still sensitive walls.

Slowly she came back to herself, after several moments of catching her breath, of calming her heart. She could still feel Cullen inside of her, feel his hands now gently stroking the skin of her hips beneath her skirts, his lips gently kissing her neck as his breaths fell warm across her skin. The room suddenly felt quiet, emptier, the only sounds their slowing breathing, her heart thumping in her ear. She almost loved these moments, after they were finished, more than actually making love, when they could just lie together, still connected, basking in the waning heat of their coupling with no shame, just the warmth and closeness of being together…

Cullen broke the silence. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing his way back to her mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” He found her lips, kissing her slowly, gently. He eased himself from her sex and lowered her to the floor, holding her up by the hips as her legs gave out slightly, still weak from the position she had been holding. She realized her backside was sore as well, where the table’s edge had pushed into it.

Cullen pulled away from her lips and sighed, reaching to stroke her cheek while he looked into her eyes. “That was… amazing,” he whispered.

Naomi nodded, then laughed. “I’ve never heard such language from your lips,” she teased.

Cullen laughed, a single exhaled breath. “Yes, well…”

Naomi smiled as she studied his face, focused on his lips. “We should do this more often.”

“Have sex?” Cullen asked with a quirk of a smile. Then he kissed her again. “I had the impression we were doing rather well on that front.”

Naomi laughed softly, feeling finely returning to her legs. “I mean we should just go for it, even if we don’t have a bed.”

Cullen shook his head with a small smile, looking over her shoulder at the room. “Were you uncomfortable? I suppose we could have used one of the couches…”

Naomi looked back at the table. “No, this was fine. _Really_ fine, actually. Exciting.”

Cullen chuckled, then released her hips and moved back a step, reaching to return his breeches to their proper position. “I wasn’t planning on this happening when I brought you in here,” he said sheepishly as he tucked himself away. “I just wanted to be sure I hadn’t made you feel uncomfortable earlier, and then Josephine and Vivienne started walking down the hall…”

“I don’t mind that this happened at all.” Then Naomi glanced toward the door as she reached for her smalls. “Do you think they heard us?”

Cullen paused his work, his pants half-closed. “I…” She knew he was blushing. “I don’t know.” He returned to his clothes with renewed vigor. “Maker’s breath I hope not. That was _definitely_ not what I intended…”

Naomi found herself strangely unconcerned. She might feel differently later, if someone confronted her about it, but in that moment she couldn’t bring herself to care. Everyone knew they were having sex, and they’d made love enough times on the road, in tents no less, that she realized everyone had probably overheard something already.

“I don’t want to be embarrassed about having sex,” she said as she wiped her legs with her underclothes. It wasn’t the best solution, but she figured they could be washed later. “I love you Cullen, and I’m finished feeling ashamed about things like this…” She pulled the smalls up her legs and readjusted her skirts. When she looked up Cullen was watching her with a small frown on his face. “What?” she asked.

“I wasn’t worried they had heard because I’m ashamed, Naomi. This is just… private.”

Naomi smiled and moved to wrap her arms around him. “Cullen, I know what you meant.”

He sighed. “Of course.” Then he kissed her, deeply, a promise for later. “You looked stunning in that gown,” he whispered when he pulled away, the rumble of his voice making her shiver. “You always look beautiful, but earlier…”

“Thank you,” Naomi said, a little embarrassed. She could only take so much praise. Cullen pulled away and bent to pick up his tunic. She watched as he pulled it over his head, at the muscles of his back, remembering how safe, how complete she felt when they were together…

So what if the gown was revealing? She had just said she was finished feeling ashamed of sex, of her body. It was just a dress, a disguise really. And with Cullen there… she had no reason to be afraid. She had been training nonstop, had been working with Cole every night in the Fade until she had been able to disarm not only James a second time, but Blackwall once before they figured out her new tricks. But it was enough to boost her confidence, and Cullen wouldn’t let anything happen to her, Nassella wouldn’t, James wouldn’t…

Cullen was in front of her, his hand slipped into hers. “What are you thinking love?”

Naomi blinked, and looked into his golden eyes. “I’m just glad you’ll be there tomorrow.”

He smiled and reached to cup her cheek. “Everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

 

* * *

 

James flipped the page, settling further into the armchair. The candle started to flicker, and when he looked over he realized it had nearly burned out. He knew he had been reading for a while, but he hadn’t realized it had been hours. He stood with a groan, his joints a little stiff, and walked across the room to retrieve a fresh candle.

Once his light source was secure, he returned to his seat and picked up the book. It was a history of Orlais, detailing everything from the Exalted March to the most recent attempted invasion of Ferelden. He hadn’t expected to find it interesting, but after wandering into the library after waking from a nightmare, he couldn’t put it down.

Interesting it might be, but it was also horrible, nearly pure propaganda. Orlesian history was bloody, mostly at the expense of the elves, and he realized now, halfway through the book, that he had kept reading because it made him angry…

He wasn’t sure how Nassella could be so calm about being in Halamshiral. This city was the center of the elves’ historic lands, and now they were here to try and make nice with the Orlesians. James wasn’t sure he would be able to forgive something like that.

He had been reading for another hour, maybe two, when he heard the door to the library creak open. He sat up, surprised to find Nassella entering the room.

“James!” she said surprised. She closed the door behind her. “What are you doing up?”

He closed the book. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Nassella sighed, rubbing her arms. She was wearing nothing more than a long, sleeveless tunic. “Me either. I’ve been wandering through this place for the past few hours…”

“Oh, I’d have kept you company if I knew we were both up,” James said.

Nassella smiled. “Well, we know we’re both up now.” She crossed the room and settled into the chair next to him. “What are you reading?”

James tossed the book on the table next to him. “Orlesian history.”

“Studying up for tomorrow?”

James snorted. “All I’ve learned is that Orlesians don’t like elves or Fereldans…”

“But they do like masks.”

James smiled. “That about covers it.”

Nassella was still smiling. “Josephine and Vivienne would disagree. They’ve been stuffing me full of more information than I can possibly remember.”

“They’ll be there to help you.”

“They can’t help me if I have to dance.”

James studied her. She was rubbing an earlobe between her fingers, her hair swept over one shoulder, chewing slightly at one of her lips, frowning. “Is that what you’re worried about?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s silly, but that’s the one thing that keeps running through my mind. That someone will ask me to dance, and I’ll go out there in that fancy dress and trip over the hem. Then everyone will laugh at the knife-ear…”

“Ness…”

She shook her head. “No, it’s true. They’ll be looking for any reason to disparage me, and I’ve never danced before. Not like this.”

“Do you want to practice?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He’d learned the steps, but it wasn’t like he was any expert…

Nassella dropped her mouth open, then nodded. “Yes.”

James felt his heart begin to race, but he stood and reached for her hand. “All right, let’s go then…”

She took his hand, but shook her head. “Not here.”

She led them across the mansion, back to the rooms where they had tried on their finery earlier in the day. She crossed to a rack, pulling a dress from among the others, then slipped behind a screen. James turned toward the door. He couldn’t see anything, but it didn’t exactly feel right to look toward her while she changed…

“James?”

He turned around, then immediately regretted it. He should not be alone with her this late at night. Solas wouldn’t like it…

She was dressed in a gown, grey fabric clinging tightly to her torso, a cascade of glittering gold and gems falling from her waist to the floor. She was so achingly beautiful…

“Would you mind closing up the back?” she asked softly, turning her back toward him. James swallowed at the expanse of her skin that was exposed, but he crossed the room and reached for the fabric, trying his best to keep his fingers from brushing her skin as he clasped the dress together, pulling away as soon as he was done.

“Thank you,” Nassella said, turning back toward him. “There’s a gold corset that goes over the top, but I just want to practice with the skirt…”

“I’m not very good,” James said. He needed to give her a chance to send him away, but he didn’t want her too…

She chuckled. “I’m not either. But if I can just get used to all of this fabric...” She lifted her hands toward him. “Shall we begin?”

It was difficult to dance with Nassella. There was the obvious awkwardness of trying to hide how he felt about her, but physically, he was so much taller that it almost made it impossible. She only reached to the middle of his chest, and had to crane her neck to look at anything other than his shirt.

She grinned up at him. “I sometimes forget how tall you are.”

James smiled back. “You’re just short.”

She laughed, and then they were dancing, stumbling through the first few steps, but quickly figuring out how to work around their height difference. Nassella tripped over her skirts a couple of times, but soon she was gliding across the floor as if the fabric was nonexistent. Once they started, James didn’t want to stop. They had so few reasons to touch, and he loved the feel of her hand gripped around his, the soft skin of her shoulder beneath his hand…

But eventually she slowed, smiling up at him. “I feel better about this now. Thank you.”

He nodded, stepping back. “Of course.”

She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, swaying slightly on her feet. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I’ve been practicing with Josephine.”

Nassella nodded. “Oh, I thought maybe you danced like this back in your home.”

James shook his head. “I guess we had dances like this, but I never learned them.”

“Did you… never dance as couples?”

His face started to heat. “No, we did. It was just different. Simpler.”

“Show me?”

This was a terrible idea. But James stepped closer and took Nassella’s hands, guiding them to rest on his shoulders. “Normally they’d be around my neck,” he said softly. “But you’re so short…”

“Yes, you’ve established that,” she joked, sliding her hands down slightly. James swallowed, then placed his hands on her hips. She raised her eyebrows. They were closer than during their other dance. “Now what?” she asked quietly.

James started to move, shifting them slowly side to side. “This is it,” he said, looking down into her large eyes. “It’s pretty easy…”

“I’ll say,” Nassella answered, stepping forward slightly. “I would have rather learned this sort of dance…”

They swayed for a few minutes, quietly moving together, and James swore Nassella kept moving closer, until her body brushed lightly against his. He tried to hold her hips as gently as possible, but her hands were clutching at his chest, pulling them together. He stared at a spot on the top of her head most of the time, determined to keep his mind from wandering too far, from thinking about her dress, about unhooking the back and letting it fall from her body to the floor, leaving her bare…

He looked toward the ceiling, away from her entirely. He needed to keep his mind under control. They were just practicing, giving Nassella a chance to accustom herself to the skirts, calm her nerves…

“I love you.”

At least, that’s what James thought she said. Her voice was pitched low, and she mumbled, but there it was…

He stalled, his eyes locked on the window across the room where he could see one of the moons rising on the horizon.

_I must have misheard. There’s no way…_

“What?” he whispered. He didn’t dare look down. He didn’t dare hope.

“I…”

Her hesitation was answer enough. James dropped his arms and stepped back, his mind reeling, his chest clenching. “Why would you say that?” His voice felt hollow, strangely empty. She couldn’t love him. He _knew_ she couldn’t. He’d just spent the whole night reading about one more way humans had hurt the elves…

“I… I just meant…”

There she was, hesitating again. James turned away, started walking toward the door. She probably hadn’t even been thinking about him. She was probably thinking of Solas. It was just a mistake…

“James!” she called.

He stopped, whirling back toward her. “What?” he demanded.

She was following him, twisting her hands around each other. “I was just trying to say thank you. You’re one of my best friends… And… and I _do_ love you, like that…” Her voice caught at the end.

Friends. James knew they were friends. That’s all they would ever be. But she couldn’t just say she loved him. How could she not think it would hurt him? Hurt _Solas?_

“You can’t say things like that,” he said. His throat was aching. “Solas wouldn’t like it. And I’m in a relationship…”

She frowned. “I can love my friends James.”

Friends. James shook his head. “You shouldn’t say that. Solas wouldn’t…”

“You don’t know what Solas would like.”

James clenched his fists. “Yes I do. He doesn’t like me enough as it is. And I know I wouldn’t like it if Mayra told someone else she loved him. Or if Makenzie…” He had to stop. This was too much. Being near her all the time, spending time with her. Others had figured out how he felt about Nassella, how could she not see? And still she laughed with him, whispered that she missed him, said things like _I love you…_

“There’s nothing wrong with telling my friends I love them,” she insisted again. “And I do love you James…”

She couldn’t know how he felt. He couldn’t believe she would be that cruel. But that didn’t relieve the ache in his chest, the way it grew more painful every time she said _I love you_ …

He couldn’t go on like this. It would drive him mad. “Quit saying that,” he said hoarsely. He had stopped looking at her.

“James…” She was going to argue. It made him angry, that she couldn’t see it upset him. That she didn’t realize it was wrong.

He shook his head, backing toward the door. He looked back to her, standing with her shoulders slumped and eyes wide. “I would never say that to you,” he said angrily. “It’s not right.”

Her mouth dropped open, and her brows started to pull together. She was going to cry, he realized, and James quickly left the room.

He wanted to cry too. He wanted to cry because he had hurt Nassella. He wanted to cry because she had hurt him and didn’t even realize it. He wanted to cry because he had been stupid to think he could pretend to just be friends with someone like her, to think his feelings would go away while spending more time with her than the woman he was sleeping with…

He found his way to the garden and sat there until the sky began to grow light in the east. By the time birds began to sing, he knew what he had to do. He had to distance himself further, discard the idea that he could still be friends with Nassella. He could no longer seek her out just to talk, find reasons to ride next to her on the trail, sit next to her at meals. He knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but hurt him she did, and he was tired of the way his chest would ache when he was around her. He would fight for her, with her, and next to her, but he was done hoping for more.

He never got around to crying.


	84. Halamshiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I'd like to continue on, especially with school starting up again!

Nassella’s body jolted forward as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. She sighed, staring at her skirts and picking at one of the emeralds that formed part of a leaf over her thigh.

They had arrived at the Winter Palace.

“We are here by invitation of Grand Duke Gaspard,” Josephine said as she looked past the curtain covering the carriage window. “Empress Celene likely fears that our presence will sever the fragile peace that has formed over the summer, so no matter who we support for the throne, Gaspard gains an advantage by having us here.”

“Tell me about Gaspard again,” Nassella said quietly. She was stalling. She didn’t want to be here…

“He is a chevalier, and would have been emperor,” Cullen said, tugging at the collar of his jacket. “The other chevaliers followed him when he declared war on Celene, and will likely remain loyal to him, regardless of tonight’s outcome.”

“There needs to be peace by the end of the night,” Leliana said. “Orlais cannot take more war.”

“The best way to accomplish that is to find the assassin and save Celene,” Josephine contributed. “The easiest place to strike would be from her side, so that is where we should focus our efforts.”

They’d gone over it all before, but now that the night was here, Nassella found her mind scattering, everything she had learned locked somewhere out of reach. She let go of the emerald and took a deep breath. It was not the time to be distracted. The stakes were far too high.

She looked up at her advisors and smiled. They had done so much to prepare for this night, to prepare _her_ for this night. They had to know she was ready.

“Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Josephine and Leliana smiled back. Cullen reached into a pocket, drawing her amulet from where he had been holding it. “Here you are,” he said as he handed the silver amulet over, the green gem catching the dim light in the carriage. Nassella ran her fingers over the smooth metal, feeling the slight tingle shooting up her hand and to her arm, indicating that Naomi was already wearing her half of the pair, and that her own skin was now impervious to blades.

“Let’s hope this turns out to be unnecessary,” she said as she clasped the amulet around her neck.

Cullen offered his hand as she descended from the carriage. She took a moment to look around, to take in her first sight of the Winter Palace, rising large and beautiful into the night sky. After Skyhold, and perhaps Adamant Fortress, it was the largest building she had ever seen. The steps leading into the palace were swarming with people, Orlesians in their silks and velvets, swirling skirts and masks. Nassella froze, momentarily stunned by their numbers. Every one of those people would be staring at her, looking for the smallest mistake, judging her…

“Vhenan.”

Nassella blinked and turned away from the mass of people before her, looking to Solas now standing at her side. He was dressed more simply than anyone else in their group, and Nassella found herself envying his breeches and cotton fabrics. He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, his eyes dropping down her body in appreciation. “You look beautiful,” he said softly. Nassella squeezed his hand as he lowered it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You seem nervous,” Solas said.

Nassella swallowed. She needed to do better at hiding her nerves. “I am.”

“You are prepared for this, vhenan. We will find this assassin.”

“I think I’m more worried about them,” she said, nodding toward the nobles.

“Don’t be,” Solas said. “Nothing they do or say can hurt you.”

“Josephine would disagree.”

He turned his lips up in a hint of a smile and lifted her hand to kiss it again. “They can only harm you if you let them,” he repeated.

Nassella found herself smiling, his confidence spilling into her, calming the racing of her heart. “All right,” she said with a nod.

And then Vivienne was on them in a swirl of embroidered silk, tsking slightly as she saw Solas’ hand holding hers. “My dear, now is not the time to advertise your relationship with an elven apostate.”

Nassella felt an argument forming on her lips, but Solas nodded, still smiling as he released her hand. “Of course Vivienne. I was simply admiring Nassella’s gown.”

Vivienne smiled as she looked Nassella over. “Yes, she is quite stunning.”

Everyone else was gathering around, descending from additional carriages, making final adjustments to finery and styled hair. Nassella watched Bull offer a hand to Naomi as she emerged from their carriage, making a comment that drew a small laugh from the other woman. The Qunari handed her off to Cullen with a wink toward the Commander, then turned to cast an appreciative eye over Dorian’s backside as the mage studied the palace before them. Originally, Dorian and Bull had not been included in their plans, but Cullen had finally convinced them that Bull’s eye and Dorian’s magic were more useful than any hit they might take to their reputation.

James followed Naomi from the carriage, and Nassella’s chest clenched painfully. He was dressed in deep blue and black, the muscular build of his body obvious beneath the cut of his clothing, his beard and hair freshly trimmed. She wished she didn’t still find him attractive, but nothing could hide how handsome he was, especially clothes like those…

Why had she ruined everything? Why did she have to open her mouth and blurt out she loved him? Why did she think he would feel the same?

It was the dancing. Being close to him. Alone with him. It was always so easy to forget herself when they were like that. And she’d thought, maybe…

It was foolish. She’d been foolish. He’d pulled away from her, been angry, insisted it wasn’t right for her to say something like that to him.

It wasn’t _right_ for her to love him. He’d said he would never say the same.

It wasn’t right.

She was going to cry again. She’d cried the night before, after James left her alone, cried until every tear was gone. And then she’d sat, curled around her knees, replaying the way he looked at her, the tone of his voice, the way he’d pulled away…

And now she was wearing that dress again. How could she feel beautiful in it, when the last time she’d worn it she’d been rejected?

It had been so obvious, once she’d admitted her feelings. James didn’t love her, and she didn’t have to wonder anymore. It should have made her feelings clearer.

But it didn’t. She’d just felt more confused than ever. And it hurt, more than when he’d walked out of that tavern with Mayra…

“They are waiting, my dear.”

Nassella blinked and looked away from James into Vivienne’s dark eyes. “What?”

“We are ready to enter.”

Nassella nodded. “Of course.”

She looked back at James. He hadn’t looked at her once, hadn’t said a word to her since the night before. He didn’t care. He’d yelled, overreacted, and he didn’t care what it had done to her, hadn’t asked to see if she was all right…

She looked at Solas, moving toward the back of the group, and sighed. It had been foolish, to say anything to James, to think the outcome would have been any different than what it was. And she should not be confused. Solas was here, ready to support her, thought she was beautiful, called her his heart. It wasn’t fair to him for her to cry over another man. And it wasn’t fair to her. She didn’t have to feel like this.

She was done crying in this dress, and she was done crying over James.

 

* * *

 

Cullen resisted the urge to fidget with the sleeves of his jacket while he waited for his name to be called. The Inquisitor was already walking the length of the floor, head held high and shoulders back, Josephine right behind. They made it look easy, being on display for the nobles watching, their steps smooth, smiles on their lips. Cullen doubted he looked so comfortable. His jacket was tight, despite a dose of potion from Naomi his joints ached, and his skin crawled thinking of all the eyes…

“Sir Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.”

Cullen moved, a little stiffly, but he focused on the hem of Josephine’s skirts as he walked, and soon he found himself at the end of the floor. The rest of their party was announced, Vivienne, Blackwall, Varric, Bull, and Dorian. Cullen smirked when Cassandra impatiently interrupted the recitation of her names, glad to know he wasn’t the only one who found the entire affair a bit ridiculous.

“James Hendrik Westerkamp of the Anderfels, squire to Commander Rutherford. Naomi Gretja Westerkamp of the Anderfels, lady-in-waiting to Ambassador Montilyet. Solas, man servant to Inquisitor Lavellan.”

It was all of them. Cole and Sera were hiding somewhere in the palace, and a group of his soldiers were making their way to within striking distance of the palace, but essentially, it was up to them. They had one night to stop the assassination of the empress.

Cullen studied Celene while Nassella spoke with her. She was what he had expected, dressed in far too much silk, covered in too many jewels, a mask obscuring most of her features. She greeted Grand Duke Gaspard, her cousin and the man who had waged war against her for the past several years. Their exchange was cordial, but tense. They suspected the strike against Celene would come from her side, but it was possible Gaspard was planning something himself. He certainly didn’t mind causing a stir, inviting the Inquisition to attend.

But it was clear the empress did not want to seem impressed, if she was at all. She said something about speaking with the Inquisitor later in the evening, but whether Celene would honor that promise would have to wait to be seen.

Finally Celene dismissed the Inquisitor and he was freed from being on display. They retreated to the relative privacy of the gallery, though there were still plenty of nobles to watch them from behind their masks. Cullen was really starting to hate the Orlesian fascination with the things…

Vivienne, Naomi, and James, who had not had to walk the length of the dance floor, joined them. James held to the edge of the group, eyeing the surrounding partyers with his arms crossed and a small frown on his face. He did not seem impressed, though Cullen suspected the other man was already assessing those around them for anything suspicious.

Vivienne praised Nassella on her handling of the empress, and then Leliana pulled the elf aside for a private word. But Cullen focused on Naomi, who was looking around at those gathered with a look more fearful than analytical. He approached her, glad to see her still smiling when she saw him, just as stunning as she had been the day before. Her chestnut hair was bound in an intricate braid that left her neck and shoulders bare, accenting just how much of her skin was showing, and her silverite amulet was nestled just above the rise of her breasts…

She was pulling on the cuffs of her sleeves when he reached her, and the flash of her bright green eyes when she looked at him still caught him off guard. Naomi smiled again, but now he could see the tension behind it, and he slipped his hand into hers. It was damp with sweat.

“Are you all right?” he asked her quietly, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand.

Naomi’s smile fell, but she nodded. “Yes, yes, just a little nervous…”

He squeezed her hand, smiling when she squeezed back. “You are prepared Naomi. And I will be here…”

“Cullen, I believe you should station yourself on the other side of the room,” Leliana said, suddenly appearing at his side. The Inquisitor was walking off with Vivienne in tow.

Cullen blinked. “I’d like to stay near Naomi.”

Leliana shook her head. “Naomi should stay with Josephine. She is supposed to be her lady-in-waiting after all. And it would be best to…” The spymaster glanced down at their joined hands. “Keep your relationship discrete.”

Cullen frowned. “And why is that?”

“Come now Commander, you know how many women have asked after you at Skyhold. We can use that to our advantage.”

“Not this again Leliana,” Cullen said, crossing his arms. “I will not be used as bait for support. And we are here to stop an assassination, not… dangle some empty promise of marriage in their faces.” Over and over again Leliana and Josephine brought this up, but he always shut them down. Even before meeting Naomi, he had no interest in an arranged marriage.

_Naomi. Maker, she has to listen to this…_

“Of course you won’t _actually_ marry anyone, Cullen, but there is no reason we can’t stop an assassination and draw more support to the Inquisition at the same time. All you have to do is stand in a corner and look pretty…”

Cullen rubbed his temple. “Maker’s breath Leliana, must we discuss this now?” He turned toward Naomi. “I’m sorry Naomi, I have no interest in any of this…” But she wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t even paying attention, her gaze vacant as she turned the amulet over in her fingers. “Naomi?”

She frowned and shook her head, looking up at him. “Yes?”

He frowned himself. She wasn’t usually so distracted. “I was just…”

“He was just going to move to the other side of the room with James,” Leliana interrupted. “To spread out our eyes.”

“Of course, of course,” Naomi said, dropping the amulet and squeezing his hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Cullen shot a small glare toward the spymaster, then bent to place a kiss on Naomi’s cheek. “Let me know if you need anything,” he whispered in her ear, his hand on her waist. He didn’t care who saw.

She smiled when he pulled away. “I will.”

Cullen moved across the room, James trailing behind, and stationed himself with a wall to his back and a table to one side, attempting to block himself from the mass of people moving around him. James stood a few meters away, posing as a dutiful squire, but just as focused as Cullen on watching those around them, searching for hints of trouble.

But as one hour passed, nothing stood out to him. All he saw was wave after wave of Orlesians, dresses and masks blurring together. The Inquisitor stopped by briefly, asking if he had seen anything. There was nothing to report so she moved on, saying something about getting into the library to poke around, and that the servants were nervous. Cullen thought it odd when she left without a word to James.

He wished he could help her, leave his post and actually _do_ something other than ‘look pretty’ for the Orlesians. He was uncomfortable enough as it was being at this event, and it didn’t help that Leliana had been right about his would-be-suitors…

It had taken only minutes for them to arrive. It started with a single woman who walked past, then stopped and sauntered back his way.

“May I get you a drink, Commander?” she’d purred, twirling a ringlet around a finger.

“No thank you,” he’d replied, crossing his arms. She’d paused, then walked away, and he thought it was the last of it.

But then she’d returned, with a friend, and they’d taken to talking and giggling a few feet away, casting glances toward him the entire time. At least, he thought they were looking at him. It was so hard to tell with their masks…

It was distracting, to say the least, and by the time the Inquisitor stopped by, several other women had found his particular corner of the ballroom incredibly interesting. It got worse once she left. The women at least kept their distance, but one man, perhaps emboldened by drink, kept moving closer, and closer, asking to dance, suggesting Cullen smile, offering drinks…

Cullen tried to be polite, turned him away at every turn, praying the man would realize that he wasn’t interested.

Then the man asked if he was married.

Cullen looked across the ballroom at that, seeking out Naomi in her green dress. He found her, talking with Josephine across the room. He watched her smile and his chest ached. The Inquisition didn’t need whatever favor they could gain from having nobles fawn over him. He was just one man. And he didn’t want to be this far away from Naomi, hiding the fact that he loved her, when he could be standing next to her, talking with her, making her laugh...

“No,” he said, still watching Naomi. “I’m not married… yet.”

Someday he would be, and he would never have to be put through this type of charade again…

Then he felt a hand on his ass, and a firm squeeze.

He jumped, eyes torn from Naomi. He stared at the masked man, now standing directly next to him, and slightly behind.

“Did you just… grab my bottom?” he asked. Even saying the words, he almost couldn’t believe it had happened.

“I’m a weak man,” the Orlesian said. Cullen could hear the smirk beneath the mask.

Cullen moved. He could take the comments, the requests to dance, but he had not agreed to be fondled. They were here to stop an assassin, nothing else.

He found refuge next to James. The other man had drawn some attention, but he was just a squire, so he hadn’t gathered a following. Cullen couldn’t see any better evidence that the attention laid on him was for his title only, nothing more.

Of course, something about the way James was standing, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, nearly intimidated Cullen.

“Do you hear the way they talk about her?” James muttered. Cullen’s followers had been dissuaded by the taller man, at least for the moment, and they were alone. As alone as they could be in a crowded ballroom.

“Talk about who?” Cullen asked.

“Ness,” James said forcefully. “They call her an elf savage, a rabbit. And they can’t believe she could be Inquisitor, after everything she’s done…”

Cullen had heard a few comments, but he’d been more preoccupied with surveillance. And Nassella had always been gracious when dealing with comments like those.

“Nassella is tough. She won’t let what they say bother her,” he told James. James’ scowl just deepened.

“It’s not right. They can’t talk about her like that.”

Cullen crossed his arms. “I know it isn’t, but we can’t do anything about it.”

“To hell we can’t,” James said. “The only reason Orlais isn’t overrun with demons is because of her…”

“Keep your voice down,” Cullen said. Even he knew that wasn’t something appropriate to talk about in this crowd.

“It’s just… bullshit,” James muttered.

Cullen wasn’t going to argue with that, especially as he eyed the handsy man edging his way closer…

“Who are all those people?” James asked after a moment.

“I don’t know,” Cullen said, moving to put James between himself and the Orlesian. “But they won’t leave me alone.”

“What do they want?”

“To dance, mostly. Though that one asked if I was married…”

James watched a pair of women in matching dresses pass by, giggling, then turned his eyes to Cullen. “Don’t break Naomi’s heart.”

Cullen didn’t think it was meant as a threat, but James’ irritation bled into his voice, and Cullen remembered what James had done to other men who threatened his sister…

But James didn’t have to worry. _Especially_ when it came to any of those gathered.

“Never.”

 

* * *

 

“I knew we would have a hard time making it seem like Cullen was enjoying himself, but I never imagined James might be the larger problem.”

Naomi glanced to the other side of the room, over the dancers twirling on the floor below, to where Cullen had moved to standing next to James, both men glaring at the people gathered around them, James with his arms crossed. She saw her brother scowl, frowning deeper, looking even more like the most miserable person in the room.

No, not miserable. Just… angry.

She turned back to Josephine. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t realize he might be a problem either.”

Josephine sighed. “It was probably a mistake to leave them alone. They seem to be… feeding off one another.”

Naomi looked back, finding Cullen now had his arms crossed as well. “I knew Cullen wasn’t a fan of Orlesians, but this just seems a bit ridiculous. And I have no idea what James’ problem is.”

“Who are you talking about?” Josephine’s sister, Yvette, asked, craning her neck to peer across the room. “Oh, is that your commander over there? The blonde one?”

“Yes, that is Commander Cullen,” Josephine said.

Yvette giggled. “He is very handsome. So is that tall one next to him…”

“That would be James, Naomi’s brother,” Josephine explained. Then she addressed Naomi. “Perhaps you should go over there and talk to them. Tell them to cheer up.”

“Oh, can I come?” Yvette asked excitedly. “I never meet anyone quite so handsome where I work…”

“I’m afraid they are both taken,” Josephine interrupted. “And you don’t have a job.”

Yvette crossed her arms. “Oh, you’re no fun Josie. And I’m showing several paintings in an upcoming salon.”

Josephine sighed again. “Yes Yvette, you mentioned that…”

Naomi watched the two sisters bicker, a pang forming in her throat. They’d been at it all night, bantering and bickering, exchanging stories and talking about their parents. Naomi wished she could have a chance to talk like this with Abigail, just one more time…

She faintly heard a bell ringing somewhere in the palace.

“Naomi? Would you speak with them?”

Naomi nodded, pulled back to the living. “Yes, of course.”

Naomi moved, slowly and carefully to keep from tripping over her skirts, trying to remember to keep her shoulders back, and her head up. At least it was easy to avoid eye contact. Everyone’s masks made it difficult to see eyes in the first place.

But really, she hardly paid attention to those around her as she walked, focusing on the floor and moving her feet, ignoring the constant buzzing originating from her chest and spreading through her entire body. It faded into the background when she was standing still, but now that she was moving, nausea pooled in her gut with every step, and her hands had started to shake by the time she made it to Cullen and James. She wiped the sweat from her hands on her skirts as she approached, smiling despite her discomfort at Cullen’s look of surprise when he saw her.

“Naomi? Is something the matter?”

She hated lying to him, but she couldn’t see how she could say anything about the amulet, considering how often he worked through headaches and pain and fatigue…

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Naomi said, standing straighter and wiping her hands again. She stood next to her brother and glanced around. There was a larger crowd gathered than what she had seen most of the night, with a larger number of women. Most were looking in their direction, and Naomi began to suspect why Cullen and her brother looked so uncomfortable.

“Then why are you here?” James asked, irritated.

Naomi sighed. “Josephine says you both need to look happier.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James grumbled.

Naomi crossed her arms. “It means,” she whispered, “that we’re at a ball and you should smile more.”

“There’s nothing to smile about,” he mumbled stubbornly.

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her head starting to ache. Why had she been nostalgic for a chance to bicker with Abigail? She got enough of that with James…

“Well… just look less angry then,” she said as she opened her eyes, glaring at James. He just glared back.

“Unbelievable…” he muttered.

Knowing she would get no further with her brother, Naomi turned her attention to Cullen. She moved to stand between the two men, and Cullen’s hand found hers.

“Maker, Naomi, are you sure you’re all right? Your hands never sweat like this…”

“It’s nothing Cullen,” she whispered. “It’s just…” She sighed, switching to English. “It’s the knives… I’m afraid someone will know…”

Cullen squeezed her hand. “No one will know. You walk very gracefully.”

Naomi took a deep breath to calm herself. She really hated lying… “Well, that’s not true, but thanks anyway.”

Cullen chuckled, then sighed. “Did Josephine really ask you to tell us to cheer up?”

“We could sense your animosity from across the room.”

“I’d hate to think how many would have gathered if we were enjoying ourselves.”

Naomi glanced around Cullen to the women still flittering around. “Admirers?” she asked.

Cullen groaned softly. “I don’t know why they won’t leave me alone.”

Naomi grinned. “You’re very handsome.”

“We’re trying to find an assassin, and they’re distracting.” He was clearly more upset than she had realized.

Naomi moved to face him, taking his other hand. “Sorry, I know I don’t like this sort of attention either.”

Cullen frowned. “Have… people been looking at you?”

“I… haven’t really been paying attention,” Naomi said, glancing around. “I’ve been talking to Josephine all night and no one’s approached us.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good then,” Cullen replied. Then he straightened. “Inquisitor.”

Naomi turned, dropping Cullen’s hand. Nassella was standing in front of them, a few strands of hair working their way from her braid. “Ness. How’s it going?”

Nassella shook her head. “Not here. I need you and James though.”

Cullen had tensed next to her. “What happened?”

Nassella glanced around, then she leaned closer. “I… find a… body… upstairs,” she said in English. “We need… look at… servant’s rooms.”

“Oh,” Naomi whispered.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She thought maybe there wouldn’t end up being any trouble, that the blades and the amulets and the plans would be unnecessary…

“Leave one at a time,” Nassella continued to whisper. “Meet… in the servant’s rooms.”

“All right,” Naomi whispered.

Nassella glanced toward James. “Tell James. I’ll see you down there.”

And then she was gone, weaving through the crowds like she belonged, like she knew what she was doing. But for a moment, Naomi couldn’t move. She just felt sick…

“Naomi?” She looked back to Cullen. His hand was back in hers. “You don’t have to go. The amulets work at a distance.”

But Naomi was shaking her head. “No, I do. No one else has armor.” She couldn’t stay behind. She’d been preparing for this for so long…

Naomi turned toward James. “What happened?” he asked. She explained under her breath in English, and he walked off without a word.

“Well, I guess he’s going first…” she said as she turned back to Cullen.

He shook his head. “Maker, this is really happening tonight.”

“Maybe not, maybe it’s just…” But Naomi didn’t know what else it could be. She started walking. “I better go.”

“Hey,” Cullen said, grabbing her arm before she could leave. “You’re not alone. Don’t be afraid.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ll see you soon.” Then she glanced at those gathered around. “Try to smile a little bit. I’d hate to let Josephine down.”

Cullen sighed, then let her go. “As if I could smile now.”

Naomi moved through the length of the ballroom, into the vestibule, and through the door that would eventually lead to the servant’s quarters. She met Dorian as she slowly descended the stairs, gripping the banister to keep her balance.

“My, my, and I thought I would be the only one enjoying the wine this evening.”

Naomi shook her head, finally planting her feet on level ground. “It’s these skirts. I’m afraid I’ll trip.”

Dorian offered his arm. “There will be no tripping on my watch. Now! Let’s see what all the fuss is about…”

They entered the servant’s quarters to the sight of blood. Naomi froze just inside the door, heart racing when she saw the bodies scattered across the floor, slumped over each other, crimson blood still seeping across the tiles…

“Fasta vass,” Dorian swore.

“What… happened…” Naomi whispered, tearing her eyes away. They were unarmed, the servants, and they had been murdered in their home. She suspected there would be death, but she didn’t realize she would see it right away…

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Nassella said angrily, wrapping her skirts around her legs, securing them around her waist, her feet bare. She pulled the knife she had strapped to her leg out of its holster, then looked to Naomi. “Naomi, I need my other knife.”

Naomi nodded, adrenaline shooting through her entire body, adding to the nausea already rolling in her gut. She lifted her skirts and retrieved Nassella’s knife, handing her the blade before moving to secure her own skirts out of the way. People had been _killed_. While everyone else danced and drank just a few meters away. They had _all_ been doing the same just a few moments before, completely unaware people were being murdered. How could this be happening….?

James removed his jacket, handing it to Cole while the spirit handed him a blade. Then Cole moved to Dorian, handing him his staff. Then he was in front of Naomi, handing her a bow and a quiver. “You should use this tonight,” he whispered. “You’re too bright. It makes you sick…”

“I’ll be fine Cole,” she whispered back. But she took the weapons. “Everyone else fights through pain.”

Cole sighed. “Yes.”

Sera had arrived with Cole, frantic, pacing the floor and muttering about how she should have been there sooner. Solas appeared calm, twirling his staff in his hands, but Naomi knew he wasn’t relaxed. He was relaxed in the Fade, and he never frowned like this in the Fade. Bull was there as well, his own jacket removed and an ax in his hand. Naomi wondered how Cole had managed to carry so many weapons.

There were more dead elves in the rest of the quarters, lying in their beds, scattered around the kitchens. Naomi tried not to look, but they were everywhere…

It didn’t help how she felt at all. They were moving quickly, and Naomi could barely keep up, her heart racing faster than it had in months from simply running. She twisted the bow between her hands, wishing she wasn’t sweating so much. Cole was right, she was in no state to use blades.

The rooms were empty, so they entered the gardens. They were free of bodies, and quiet, but Naomi knew that would have to change. _Someone_ had killed all those people…

And then they found a body that wasn’t an elf, but a finely dressed human with a dagger in his back. Nassella bent over the man and removed the blade, then swore. “Fenedhis! That bastard Gaspard…”

“What is it?” Solas asked.

“Gaspard points the finger at Briala, then I find a dagger with his crest in the back of an emissary for the Council of Heralds…” she said, then muttered something in elvish. “I knew he was threatening the Council, but I didn’t think he would _actually_ stoop to murder…”

“This is the Grand Game,” Dorian said. “Murder is just one way to play.”

“And they call me the barbarian,” Nassella muttered, rubbing her earlobe between her fingers. “Creators, this is ridiculous…”

“It doesn’t make sense,” James said.

Nassella shot a glare toward James. “Of course it doesn’t make sense!”

James crossed his arms. “Gaspard’s not stupid,” he said. “Why would he send someone with his own knife to murder someone?”

Nassella crossed her own arms. “Well, he probably didn’t think anyone would find the body so quickly.”

James snorted. “It’s like, the oldest trick in the book.”

“What book?” Nassella asked, frustrated.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” James said.

“He’s right,” Bull added. “It could be a set-up.”

Nassella groaned. “Well that clears absolutely nothing up…”

They were interrupted by a yell, and everyone turned to see people running toward them, weapons raised…

“Venatori!” Dorian yelled, lightning already crackling from his staff.

Naomi couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move. Her heart was beating too fast…

And the Cole was pulling her to the back of the group. “Stay with Sera…” And then the spirit was gone, returning to the fray.

“Come on Naomi!” Sera yelled. Naomi focused on the elf, already pulling a second arrow from her quiver. “Stick ‘em!”

_Right. Fight. Do something. That’s why I’m here…_

Naomi swallowed and reached for an arrow, finding her hands shaking. And her head was pounding, the buzzing growing more and more unbearable…

She looked up and watched Nassella, realizing that every time the elf blocked a blow with her exposed arm, shrugged off a strike to her bare shoulder, her entire body shuddered, her heart stuttered. She watched her friends cutting down those attacking them, but it wasn’t the blood that made her feel sick. It was so much worse than when Blackwall had used a dulled blade to spar with Nassella. It was like the surging of adrenaline, but so much worse…

Naomi couldn’t feel her arms, her legs. The buzzing had settled into her ears.

And then she watched one of the Venatori sneak up behind James and jump on his back, shoving her blade into his neck. James fell to his knees, blood staining his undershirt.

Naomi threw up, pushed over the edge by the sight.

Then everything went dark.


	85. The Amulet

It didn’t matter how many times it happened, James didn’t think he would ever really get used to the pain that came with being stabbed. He usually shrugged off the blows, but when the knife slid into his neck, he was momentarily stunned by the pain, and the next thing he knew he was on his knees, blood spilling hot and wet down his neck and chest. He couldn’t breathe.

“James!”

The call snapped him back, and he used his free hand to grapple for the assailant still clinging to his back, hauling the body over his shoulder with a strangled grunt. The woman sprawled on the ground with a cry, and James pulled the knife from his neck. There was another surge of blood that left him a little light-headed, but the pain subsided in the next instant.

The Venatori agent was scrambling to stand, but she never got the chance. James used her knife to slice her throat, her own blood flowing unhindered to the cobblestones.

He dropped the weapon as he stood, rubbing his neck, the skin unblemished but still slick with blood. He took a deep breath, then coughed, spitting more blood on the ground.

He looked at the woman before him, knowing that if it weren’t for being fade-touched, he would be as dead as her. By rights, he should have died in the Fade with the rest of his family, or countless times after that. It was a fluke that he still stood while she was gone…

“I know you don’t like getting checked on after every fight, but that was a pretty serious blow you took there.”

James looked up at Bull, lowering his hand and wiping the blood on his shirt. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I took the front lines for a reason.”

Bull nodded, then a shout carried across the courtyard.

“Hey! Something’s wrong with Naomi!”

It was Sera, and when James turned, he could see the blonde elf crouching over the collapsed figure of his sister. He ran, beating everyone but Nassella to Naomi’s side. He didn’t know what could be wrong, she hadn’t even been near the fighting…

But she wasn’t injured, at least not obviously. She was just lying on the ground next to a puddle of vomit, her hands covering her face, taking slow, deep breaths.

Nassella knelt at her side, reaching for her shoulder. “What happened?” The elf was unscathed, though her hair was falling out of its styling.

“She just… heaved and fell over,” Sera said, standing with a wild gesture of her arms.

Naomi lowered her arms and started to sit up. “I’m fine,” she said thickly. “I’m fine…” But she wasn’t fine. Her face was pale and covered in sweat, and she was breathing too fast.

Nassella held Naomi down. “Stay down until we figure out what’s wrong…”

“It’s nothing,” Naomi insisted, covering her eyes again. “We need to pay attention to the Venatori…” She shrugged Nassella off and kept trying to get up. Bull stepped forward and offered Naomi his hand, hauling her to her feet. But she nearly fell over again, swaying slightly while Bull held her up.

“Shit,” she muttered, rubbing her head.

“It’s obviously something Naomi,” Nassella said sternly. “Tell us so we can help you.”

The pallor of Naomi’s face began to shift toward pink as she blushed. “It’s… just the amulet. It’s a little uncomfortable to wear…”

Nassella’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew wide. She lifted her hand to the amulet around her neck. “This is because of the amulet?”

Naomi had managed to let go of Bull’s hands and stand on her own. “It’s not that bad…”

“You fainted,” Bull reminded her. “And you still look sick.”

Nassella was shaking her head and frowning. “Why didn’t you say something Naomi? I don’t feel anything...” She was hurt, James could tell, that Naomi had kept this to herself.

Naomi was staring at the ground. “It wasn’t this bad before. I thought I could handle it…”

Solas stepped forward, reaching for Naomi’s shoulders. “May I?” he asked. Naomi nodded and Solas made contact with her skin, sending exploratory surges of magic across her body. He frowned slightly. “I should have considered how you would react to the Fade energy flowing through your body while wearing the amulet. Your body is not accustomed to this sort of magic.”

Nassella reached for the clasp holding the amulet around her neck. “I can’t wear this anymore.”

Naomi shook her head. “You have to Ness. You can’t get injured…”

“Well I’m not going to let you suffer,” Nassella insisted. “It’s not worth it.”

Naomi stepped forward and reached for Nassella’s hands. “Please Ness, I can handle it. It just caught me off guard. You have to wear it. You can’t get hurt…” Nassella stopped removing the amulet and bit at her lip. Even now, James could hear the distant shouts of reinforcements. They weren’t done fighting.

“Well you can’t go around collapsing the entire night,” Dorian said.

“That won’t happen again,” Naomi insisted. “I can handle it, now that I know what to expect. Please Ness, you need to keep wearing it.”

Nassella shook her head and looked to Solas. “Is this the worse it will get?”

“I cannot say. I would need more time to study the amulet’s effects.” He looked to Naomi. “I wish you had said something sooner.”

Naomi crossed her arms and ducked her head. “It was never this bad during practice.”

The shouts were getting louder. Nassella shook her head, then dropped her hands, the amulet still around her neck. “Naomi, you _say_ something if it gets worse, and if you faint again, I’m taking this off for good. And you are done fighting.” Naomi sighed, then nodded. Then Nassella turned to James. “You stay back with her James.”

“Why me?”

Nassella glared at him. “Because she’s your sister, and Bull’s more intimidating than you up front.” Her animosity caught him off guard, and he didn’t have time to respond before Nassella was leading everyone forward. James looked to Naomi, standing there pale and miserable. He felt like he was being punished.

“Do you need me to carry you?”

Now _she_ was glaring at him. “No. I can walk.”

She could walk, but slowly, and the others were already engaged with another group of Venatori when they managed to catch up. James guided Naomi behind a wall, where she slumped against it, clutching at her stomach. James looked around the corner, watching as Nassella and Bull and Dorian and Solas all fought without him…

“I’m sorry James,” Naomi whispered. He looked toward his sister.

“What?” His voice was short.

“I’m sorry, ok,” she repeated. “I know you’re angry.”

James shook his head and looked back around the corner. “I’m annoyed. You should have said something sooner.” He winced when a Venatori blade caught Bull in the chest, and felt an urge to run to help. But a swipe from the Qunari’s axe ended the combatant’s assault.

“I didn’t think it would be this bad…”

“Well, now they’re down two fighters,” James interrupted. “If you’d said something you could have stayed back in the ballroom. Or you could have stayed behind and we figured something else out.”

“Like what?” Naomi asked. “What could be better than Ness being impervious to blades?”

James sighed. He didn’t know how to argue with that, especially as he watched Nassella surprise her attacker by allowing herself to be hit. He often did the same thing.

But Naomi groaned at the same time, and he turned to see her holding a hand over her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut. “Are you ok?” he asked softly.

She nodded and lowered her hand. “It helps to not move… and if I close my eyes…”

“Remember, take it off if it gets worse.”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s not any worse. I’ll be fine.” But he could see her hands shaking.

James sighed and leaned next to her. “I don’t know what else we would have done, but no one wants you to hurt like this.”

Naomi opened her green eyes and looked at him. “What else was I supposed to do?” she whispered. “It really was just uncomfortable until tonight. You got s _tabbed_ James, and I know that happens all the time. And the Anchor hurts Ness sometimes, and Cullen is always hurting...” She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall. “I couldn’t just not help because it hurt a little.”

“None of us want you to hurt, Naomi. Even a little.”

She sniffed. “Don’t you feel like you need to help, because of the fade-touched thing? That you can’t let it go to waste?”

James looked back around the corner. He knew exactly how she felt. It was why he hated being left behind, why he hated sitting back. But Naomi didn’t need to feel that way.

“No one thinks you’re wasting it,” he said. “You’ve never wanted to fight anyway.”

She was silent for a few seconds. “Well, this way it’s not going to waste, and I don’t have to fight.”

“That’s true I guess.”

The Venatori were nearly gone, and James watched as a blast from Solas brought the last mage to his knees. They would be moving on, and he and Naomi needed to follow.

Then Naomi gasped, and there was a rustle of fabric. James turned quickly, afraid she was going to faint again, but felt his heart stop when he saw her still standing, a man holding a knife to her throat.

The man’s face was bloodied, a wound on his head still seeping blood. He must have been injured and left for dead, only to regain consciousness and find his way to them, where they had let their guard’s down…

“Drop your weapon,” the man rasped. “Or she dies.”

_Idiot. Stupid. You had one job…_

But before James could do anything, before he could even consider doing what his sister’s captor wanted, Naomi was moving, slamming an elbow back while she reached for the blade at her neck. The man drew the knife back, but instead of slicing into her throat, it slid across Naomi’s skin as if it was nothing more than a metal rod. She grunted and hauled the man forward, and in the next instant he was on the ground in front of James, Naomi’s knee digging into his chest, his knife in her hand.

And then Naomi was falling, the knife slipping from her fingers while her head slumped forward to her chest. The man pushed her off and she fell to the ground while he scrambled for his knife. James stepped forward, spurred back into action as the man tried to escape, and grabbed him by the collar. The man snarled and attempted to twist around, but James was ready, and sank his sword between a gap in the man’s armor. The man lurched, gave a strangled groan, and went limp.

James dropped the man’s body to the ground, suddenly aware of the way his heart was racing, that his breaths had started coming short. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so afraid for Naomi…

He scanned the area, then crouched by her side, relieved to see her already blinking her eyes open, her fingers pressed to her temple. “Shit, are you all right?” he asked. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Fade-touched,” she mumbled. “Remember?”

James sighed. Of course. He shouldn’t have been so worried in the first place. And it wasn’t just her skin that had saved her. “When did you learn to do that?”

Naomi took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I’ve disarmed you before.”

James shook his head, helping Naomi sit up. “You’ve never flipped me over your shoulder.”

“I’ve been practicing with Cole in the Fade,” she said. “Also… you’re way too big for that.”

James gripped her shoulder. “I’m sorry Naomi, I should have been paying attention…”

She shook her head. “I should’ve too. I’m fine.”

James helped her back to her feet, then glanced back around the corner. Everyone was moving forward, the Venatori dead…

“Don’t tell them I fainted again,” Naomi whispered behind him. “Please.”

James turned back. “Naomi…”

“Please James,” she pleaded. “I was doing fine before he showed up. I can still help.”

James frowned, and studied her face. She was still pale, and sweaty, and breathing too heavily…

But she didn’t seem any worse than she had been, even after fainting a second time. And she’d been able to disarm that man single handedly, even if he was injured. James _knew_ she wanted to help…

“Fine,” he said, starting to move. “I won’t say anything.”

 

* * *

 

Nassella was angry.

Angry that Gaspard had lied to her face, and did, in fact, seem to be plotting something against Celene…

Angry that so many elves had been murdered while the Orlesian nobles partied…

Angry that Venatori were swarming the palace…

Angry that Briala had shown up when the fighting was all but over, offering her spy network, suggesting she was planning something as well…

And she was angry that with all of the secrecy and backstabbing… she couldn’t even trust her friend to tell her the truth.

Naomi was leaning heavily on James by the time they had cleared the Venatori from the servant’s and guest quarters, and she kept her eyes closed more than she opened them. Nassella almost insisted again that they take off the amulets, but Naomi hadn’t fainted again, and Nassella really didn’t have any alternative when it came to keeping safe. She knew there would be more fighting before the night was over.

“I’m feeling better,” Naomi insisted as they made their way back to the ballroom. “Now that you’re not fighting any more…”

“I don’t like using you like this Naomi.”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s not like that Ness. I w _ant_ to wear it.”

Nassella decided to stop arguing. Naomi was getting no worse, and she had made her decision.

They returned to the ballroom in small groups. Nassella left first, after fixing her hair, readjusting her skirts, and allowing Dorian to remove the blood and dirt that stained her gown with magic. When asked, he admitted he’d learned the spell from Vivienne.

She looked for Leliana first. But she needed to talk to everyone. Something was going to happen tonight, she knew it, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to do…

Leliana wasn’t in the vestibule, so Nassella moved to the ballroom. The music seemed to swell as she slipped through the doors, and she had just spotted Josephine when she was intercepted by a woman in an elegant gown adorned with peacock feathers. She blocked Nassella’s way forward, bowing slightly, her lips turned up in a small smile beneath her mask.

“Inquisitor Lavellan. We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party,” she purred in a thick Orlesian accent.

Florianne… Gaspard’s sister. She was there when Nassella met Celene. Nassella tried to reorient her mind from the fight and finding her advisors, to talking to this noblewoman, to playing The Game.

“Is there something I can do for you, your Grace?” Josephine had pounded into her mind, again and again, how to address someone like Florianne…

Florianne’s grin widened. “Indeed you can,” she said. “I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of… a certain person.” _Certain person… does she mean Gaspard?_ Florianne moved toward the dance floor. “Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

Nassella followed the woman, heart starting to race. She wished she could get by without dancing…

But she couldn’t blow the woman off. She needed to hear what she had to say.

“Very well,” she said, gesturing toward the floor. “Shall we dance, your Grace?”

Florianne gave her a full smile. “I’d be delighted.”

Nassella took deep breaths as she descended the stairs to the dance floor, mindful of every step she took, hoping she had cleaned up enough after the fighting. Florianne turned toward her once they reached level ground, her skirts twirling around her feet and her arms held up. Nassella stepped forward with a small smile, taking the Duchess’ hands in hers.

The music was loud, other couples swirling around, and as they began to move, Florianne started to talk.

“Have the Dalish gained a sudden passion for politics? What do you know about our civil war?”

Of course. All Florianne seemed to notice was her Dalish tattoos. Nevermind the months she had served as Inquisitor, dealing with nobles, leading armies, helping the Orlesians in the Exalted Plains…

“The effects of this war reach far beyond the borders of the Orlesian Empire,” Nassella responded as they turned in a small circle, her own skirts moving around her feet. She silently thanked James for practicing with her the night before. Without that practice, she wasn’t sure she would be able to dance and talk and think all at the same time…

But then she remembered how that night had ended, and her chest clenched.

“Perhaps it does,” Florianne said. “I should not be surprised to find the Empire is the center of everyone’s world.”

Nassella suppressed the urge to frown, or laugh. Orlais might affect the rest of the world, but it did not make it the center…

“It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations,” Florianne continued. “Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason. The security of the Empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

Gaspard. She had to be talking about Gaspard. And of course Nassella didn’t wish to see the Empire fall. That was why the Inquisition was here.

But she wasn’t sure how to respond to Florianne. Josephine had instilled in her over and over again to be mindful of what she said, to never reveal her cards…

Better to be vague then, question Florianne’s intentions instead of revealing her own.

“Do we both want that, Lady Florianne?”

She thought she saw the Duchess smile. “I hope we are of one mind on this.”

_What does she want? Why did she drag me down here to dance…?_

They moved through a series of complex steps, and by the time they were through, Nassella knew.

_She wants to be my ally… or at least make me think that she is. And Gaspard… she doesn’t want me to trust him…_

But who could she trust? And why did Florianne suspect something of Gaspard at all? No other noble seemed alarmed. They didn’t know what was happening…

_Stay vague. Ask more questions…_

“In times like these, it’s hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, your Grace?” Nassella asked. Florianne smirked, again, spinning Nassella in a new direction.

“I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard, and have been everywhere in the palace…” How could she know that? Nassella thought they had been careful… “You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor… and a matter of concern to some.”

“Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, your Grace?” Nassella didn’t trust Florianne. She knew too much. More than she should know…

Florianne laughed softly. “A little of both, actually.” Nassella supposed that was to be expected. “This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?”

_The Inquisition. I trust my people…_

But Nassella knew better than to reveal anything, even that. “An excellent question,” she evaded. “I might ask the same of you, your Grace.”

Florianne’s hands clenched slightly, but quickly relaxed. “In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone.”

They were still moving, circling the dancefloor. Nassella realized she had not had to think about her dancing in some time. But she also realized Florianne had been leading the entire time. For some reason, that bothered her. She was the Inquisitor. Even if she was several inches shorter than the other woman, she should be in charge right now…

“It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.”

The time came to change directions, and before Florianne could guide her one way, Nassella took over, moving Florianne in the direction of her choosing.

“I thought ‘dangerous machinations’ were the national sport in Orlais,” Nassella said. It was called ‘The Game’, after all…

And she was starting to suspect Florianne had some machinations moving of her own.

They were nearing the end of the dance. Out of the corner of her eye, Nassella watched a man dip his partner nearly to the floor, and in a moment of inspiration, she did the same.

Florianne gripped at her arms as Nassella lowered her toward the ground, Florianne’s lips parting in surprise. Pleased, Nassella lifted her back to standing.

_She didn’t expect that…_

And then Nassella heard applause. But the song was ending. It was probably for the orchestra.

Florianne started walking her off the dancefloor. “You have little time,” she said. Nassella thought Florianne sounded slightly flustered. But it was gone the next time she spoke. “The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing Garden, you will find the captain of my brother’s mercenaries. He knows all Gaspard’s secrets. I’m sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming.”

It was the most direct thing Florianne had said the entire night. It made Nassella trust her even less.

The dance was ending, and Nassella decided to take her chance to leave, on her terms. “We’ll see what the night has in store, won’t we?” she asked as she walked away.

She was back to taking deep breaths as she walked back up the stairs, realizing how fast her heart was racing. She didn’t trust Florianne, but after finding Gaspard’s dagger in the gardens, she didn’t know what to think. Was it possible Florianne was right, that Gaspard was the one who would strike at Celene?

But then Nassella remembered what James had said back in the gardens. It was too obvious, finding the dagger, Florianne pointing her finger at Gaspard, pointing her directly to Gaspard’s mercenary captain…

“You’ll be the talk of the court for months,” Josephine said, smiling while she rushed toward Nassella as she entered the gallery. “We should take you dancing more often.”

Nassella suppressed a laugh. The last thing she wanted to do was more dancing. And there were far more important things to talk about. “The Duchess had some interesting things to say,” she told Josephine. She caught sight of Leliana and Cullen approaching.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Josephine said.

“Were you dancing with Duchess Florianne?” Leliana asked excitedly.

“More importantly,” Cullen interrupted, ever practical. “What happened in the servant’s quarters? Bull said there was fighting.”

Josephine frowned. She had apparently not heard. “I hope you have good news. It appears the peace talks are crumbling.”

Nassella shook her head. “Yes, there was fighting. Our people are all right, but the servants were slaughtered by Venatori…” She took a deep breath. Thinking about all those elves left her sick and angry…

Someone was to blame for that. They _had_ to find out who.

Josephine shook her head. “Oh no…”

“The Grand Duchess tried to convince me Gaspard is the traitor, but I’m not sure I buy it,” Nassella continued. “We found a knife with Gaspard’s crest in the servant’s quarters, but there must be more to this…”

“Florianne and her brother are thick as thieves,” Leliana offered, “but she would give him up in an instant to save herself.”

“Then… the attack on the Empress will happen tonight,” Cullen said with a frown.

Nassella sighed. “It looks that way.”

Josephine shook her head. “Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat.”

“Then perhaps we should let her die.”

Nassella stared at Leliana, momentarily speechless. She frowned. “I thought we were here to _stop_ the assassination,” she finally said. That was the entire plan…

And then Leliana was lecturing her about Corypheus, and avoiding chaos, that even with Celene alive Orlais could fall…

Then Cullen spoke up, agreeing with Leliana, that it wasn’t necessary for Celene to remain alive. Josephine was appalled…

They wanted _her_ to decide. Suddenly, protecting Celene was not necessarily their mission…

“You’re asking me to decide what’s best for Orlais?” Nassella asked. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to be her role here tonight…

“More than that. Whoever controls the Imperial throne will affect all of Thedas,” Cullen said.

Nassella knew that. Because Orlais was so important.

But it was one more thing that had been rested on her shoulders. One more thing she had to decide…

Her advisors were arguing. Josephine wanted to support Celene, the rightful ruler. Cullen suggested, after a moment of hesitation, that Gaspard could serve just as well, and Leliana wanted Briala, saying she could bring peace to the elves…

Nassella didn’t know what to think. She didn’t want to give up their plan of saving Celene. She had no right to decide who Orlais’ next ruler would be. She discarded Gaspard immediately. Even if he was innocent, she didn’t trust him. And she knew so little about Briala. Could an elf even rule in Orlais, after everything…?

“Stop,” Nassella finally said with a shake of her head. “I can’t decide this. Not yet.”

Leliana gave her a stern look. “You must. Even inaction is a decision, Inquisitor.”

Nassella crossed her arms. “I realize that Leliana. But I need more information.”

“What did Duchess Florianne tell you?”

“She said Gaspard’s mercenary captain is in the royal wing. That he knows about the assassination,” Nassella told them.

“It could be a trap,” Cullen said. Nassella agreed.

“Or a lead,” Josephine contributed. “Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing.”

Nassella nodded. “Get me access. We’ll find out what’s happening.”

Leliana nodded, walking off. Cullen crossed his arms. “My soldiers are in position. They can be here at your signal.”

“Good. We may need them.” She turned to look around, spotting Bull and Dorian across the room talking to Cassandra, Vivienne laughing with some noble. The others were still in the vestibule…

The others. They needed to know they would be fighting again. And Naomi…

Nassella frowned. Cullen needed to know about Naomi. They needed to decide what to do.

“Come with me Cullen. We need to find James and Naomi…”

 

* * *

 

Naomi stood next to James in the vestibule, his arm linked with hers, watching nobles wandering past, talking and laughing, drinking wine and eating food…

It really was beautiful, the Winter Palace, and the dresses and finery were like nothing Naomi had ever seen. She wished she could enjoy it more.

Now that Nassella wasn’t fighting, that Naomi was standing still, the discomfort from the amulets had receded. But she was tired. Their foray into the servant’s quarters had taken more out of her than she had realized.

Movement from the direction of the ballroom caught her eye, and Naomi turned to see Cullen walking quickly toward them, Nassella and Josephine in tow.

“Oh shit,” she whispered, her heart rate increasing.

“What?” James asked.

“Cullen,” Naomi said, glancing toward the ceiling. “He’s going to be pissed…”

“Well, you should have said something sooner.”

“God, James, that’s not helping.”

He shrugged.

Then Cullen was in front of her, searching her face, reaching for her hands. “Maker Naomi, you’re so pale… Nassella said something happened in the servant’s quarters…” He reached to stroke her face. “Are you ill?”

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. James had pulled away, abandoning her to admit her mistake alone.

“It’s the amulet,” she said, opening her eyes. “It’s… uncomfortable to wear.”

Cullen frowned. “What do you mean uncomfortable?” He looked her over. “It’s making you sick?”

“No… it’s just uncomfortable…”

“Creators Naomi,” Nassella interrupted. “She fainted Cullen, and threw up. She could barely walk by the time we came back here.”

Cullen shook his head. “How could this happen?”

Nassella turned her eyes toward Naomi. She knew she had to be forthright…

But Cullen would be disappointed. She didn’t want to see the way he would look at her…

Then Nassella smiled, nodded, and Naomi sighed. “It’s been bothering me the entire time, but it was worse tonight than I thought it would be. It caught me off guard.”

“You knew…” Cullen said softly. And there he was, frowning at her, disappointed… “Why didn’t you say something?”

Naomi bit at the inside of her lip. “I just… thought I could handle it. And I _can_ Cullen…”

He was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. Why are you still wearing it?”

Naomi was tired of defending herself, of explaining why she wanted to help…

“Because it’s not killing me Cullen,” she said. “Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but I can _handle_ it. And I want to help Ness like this, and she agrees…” She looked toward Nassella for support. The elf nodded.

“It’s not getting any worse Cullen. She’s agreed to stay back, but I think she should keep wearing it.”

Cullen was gripping her hand, the other still on her cheek. “This was not the plan Inquisitor.” Now he was upset with Nassella…

“This is my decision Cullen,” Naomi said softly.

Nassella shook her head. “Nothing is exactly going as planned Cullen. And I…” She sighed. “The amulet has helped me so much, and with everything that’s happening tonight…”

“Nassella must be protected,” Josephine said.

Cullen closed his eyes and shook his head. “Maker…”

Naomi reached for his face. “Really Cullen, this will be fine.”

Cullen let out a long sigh, his brow pinched, but he nodded. “All right.”

“Good,” Nassella said. “I need to gather the others. James, you’ll come, and maybe Cassandra… Varric…” The elf was wandering off, James in tow. Cullen stepped back, though he continued to hold her hand.

“Can we help you Naomi?” Josephine asked. “Do you think you might faint again?”

Naomi shook her head, focusing on the ambassador. “No, I don’t think I will. I just need to sit. That will help. It’s not really painful, just uncomfortable.”

Josephine nodded. “Of course, that seems reasonable. We really appreciate you doing this, despite the circumstances.”

“Of course Josephine. I’d do anything to help Ness.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Cullen said.

“Yes, yes of course,” Josephine said. “Perhaps you could find an out of the way corner to sit, in case Naomi gets ill again…”

Cullen looked surprised. He had clearly been expecting an argument. “I thought you wanted our relationship to stay discrete?”

“Circumstances change, Commander. I believe you’ve been ogled by the nobles enough.”

“Well, that’s… thank you,” he said.

They walked the length of the vestibule, Naomi’s arm linked with Cullen’s, and climbed a flight of stairs to an empty corridor. He guided her to a small couch and gently lowered her to the cushions. Naomi watched his face while he looked around, still frowning, adjusting his coat, then crossing his arms. He hadn’t said a word the entire time they walked…

Then James walked up next to Cassandra, the two warriors looking grim. James nodded toward Naomi before they disappeared through a door at the end of the hall. Bull and Dorian followed a moment later. Then Nassella and Varric…

Naomi sighed. “Cullen, sit down…”

He shook his head. “Why didn’t you say something?” he whispered.

Well… he was still angry…

“I honestly didn’t think it would be this bad,” Naomi said quietly. “And I didn’t want to complain over something I thought was small.”

Cullen sighed, and lowered his arms. He looked at her, more concerned than angry, and settled himself at her side. His hand slipped into hers. “You can tell me things, Naomi,” he said. “Even if they seem small.”

Naomi bit the inside of her lip. “I know Cullen…. I’m sorry.”

He let go of her hand and slipped his arm around her waist. Naomi leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. She still felt nauseous, and tired, and she had a headache…

“How uncomfortable is it?” Cullen asked.

Naomi sighed. “Well… back home, I would get car sick…”

“Car sick?”

Naomi grinned. There were so many things she had to explain with Cullen…

“Well, you know what cars are?”

“Yes.”

“I would get sick while riding in cars. Headaches, a little nauseous. It happens because your body tells your brain you’re moving, but your eyes see the inside of the car that’s _not_ moving, and then the brain gets confused. It would make me feel sick.”

“That seems annoying.”

“It was. I would usually just fall asleep whenever I was riding in a car.” She settled closer to him and closed her eyes. “This feels like getting carsick… but like, four times worse.”

“So you’re not in pain?”

Naomi shook her head. “No, not really.”

Cullen sighed. “I still don’t like this. I know Nassella needs protection, but not like this…”

“It’s fine Cullen. And it’s done. We can’t change anything now, and I just want to help.”

And then the buzzing emanating from the amulet grew from an annoying background sensation to a nearly unbearable vibration. Nausea swept through Naomi and she gasped, her heart starting to race.

“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.

“I… I think they’re fighting…” Naomi whispered. Cullen pulled her closer, and reached for her hand, steadying the shaking.

“How do you know?”

“It gets worse when Nassella gets hit,” she said quietly. “Solas talked about the Fade energy moving through my body… and not being used to the magic…” She tried to take deep breaths, but it did little to reduce her discomfort…

“Naomi… what can I do?” Cullen asked.

She forced herself to open her eyes and meet Cullen’s gaze. He looked so worried, and helpless…

“Just sit with me. It will pass.” Her stomach heaved, but she managed to hold it down. She closed her eyes again and settled against Cullen. “And don’t let me vomit on my dress.”

His lips pressed against her temple. “Of course,” he murmured. “Of course…”


	86. The Rift

James couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Nassella so angry.

She glared at the naked Orlesian as he scrambled around Celene’s bedroom, gathering his scattered clothes.

“Remember our deal,” Nassella told the man as he slipped his pants on. “We’ll find you if you run off.”

The man nodded. “Of course Inquisitor. Anything you need…”

Nassella sighed when he had left them. “I’m starting to hate Orlais,” she muttered.

Sera snorted. “Just starting?”

Nassella crossed her arms. “So Briala’s been playing Celene and Gaspard, encouraging their fighting, and sent one of her own people to die so her people wouldn’t learn about her relationship with Celene. Celene’s known about Gaspard’s intentions of disrupting this ball the entire time, but let it go forward as a trap, despite the fact that people could get hurt, or that she apparently touts herself as a peacemaker. And Gaspard…” She shook her head. “Well, he apparently has mercenaries, and may or may not have killed a council emissary and dozens of elves and be planning to murder the Empress…”

“That seems to cover most of it,” Dorian said, twirling his mustache between his fingers. “A rather tangled series of plays of the Game, even for Orlais.”

“So no one really intended to make peace tonight,” Nassella grumbled.

“It is not surprising,” Solas said. “The Imperial throne is a tempting prize.”

“But it’s not a game!” Nassella exclaimed. “People are _dead_. People are starving because of the war. And I have to decide which one of these people to support?”

“You should just get rid of all of them and hold a vote,” James said, a little sarcastically. He knew Nassella couldn’t actually change an entire governmental system in one night…

“We are trying to avoid chaos,” Solas said. “Such an act would cripple Orlais.”

James scowled. “Well the current leaders did a pretty good job of that already,” he argued. “All I’m saying is that this is the problem with this sort of government. One person who thinks they have some sort of ‘right’ to rule just because of their birth can mess things up, and people don’t actually get a say in any of it.” He crossed his arms. “No one person should have that much power over everything.”

Nassella was studying him, rubbing her earlobe between her fingers. “Then what do you think I should do?” she asked.

James shrugged. “I don’t know… if you have to pick, pick the person you think most Orlesians would want.”

Nassella shook her head. “Well, I don’t know what they want.”

“Then I guess I don’t know what you should do.”

“Thanks, that’s very helpful,” Nassella muttered. She’d been muttering a lot around him, and avoiding looking at him, and being short with him…

She was angry with him. Still. And he just wanted to move on, forget everything that had happened the night before.

Then Nassella sighed. “Well, we need to find this mercenary captain, if he’s actually here, and see what Gaspard is up to…”

They left Celene’s room and entered the hallway, dusty and quiet. Nassella looked in both directions. “We need to split up,” she said. “We don’t have the time to stay together. I’ll go with Solas, James, and Varric that way. The rest go the other way. We’ll send a runner if we come across trouble.”

They split the group, and James followed a few steps behind Nassella as she led them down another, dustier, corridor. They had just passed through a set of large double doors when his skin began to crawl, and the sight of the Anchor on Nassella’s left palm flaring in the dim light confirmed what he feared.

There was a rift ahead.

Nassella glanced back at their group, her lips pressed together. “Varric… you should go find the others…”

And then James heard, faintly drifting down the hall, a man’s cry for help.

In the next instant Nassella was running, sprinting the length of the hall toward the call, toward the rift. James followed a heartbeat behind, surprised, as he always was, at her speed, his long legs the only thing that allowed him to match her pace.

“We need to be careful Ness,” he said. “We should wait…”

“It’s fine,” she responded shortly. “We’ve handled rifts before. We need to keep the demons away…”

She slammed into a door, pushing on the handles while James glanced over his shoulder. They had outpaced Solas and Varric by several meters, but they would be there soon...

He added his weight to the door, stumbling into an outdoor courtyard a step behind Nassella…

And froze, the image of Naomi standing with a knife to her throat flashing before his eyes.

It was the second time that night he’d allowed someone he loved to fall into danger.

And then the door slammed shut behind them.

There was a rift in the courtyard, demons already formed and milling beneath it. But there were also archers, nearly a dozen of them, with arrows notched and aimed directly at Nassella, bare-shouldered and tiny, entirely exposed…

_No. She’s wearing the amulet. She’ll be fine…_

But even though they were connected at a distance, James wasn’t sure how far that extended. They had moved deeply into the Royal Wing, and he had the terrible thought that they were too far away, that Naomi’s abilities couldn’t be transferred over so great a distance.

He glanced back, realizing archers were filling in the ring behind, two mages had secured the door…

“Don’t move,” one of the archers snarled. “Or you all die.”

A _s if they plan on sparing us…_

They were trapped, cut off from their friends. James gripped his sword tighter. The only thing keeping them safe were his fade-touched skin, and that amulet around Nassella’s neck. An amulet they had never really found the limits of…

“Ness…” he said quietly.

“It’s all right,” she whispered back. “We’ll figure it out.”

And then, on a balcony high above, James saw movement, and looked to see a woman in an ornate dress and mask smiling over the railing.

“Inquisitor! What a pleasure! I wasn’t certain you’d attend. You’re such a challenge to read. I had no idea if you’d taken my bait.”

“Florianne,” Nassella said icily. “I had a feeling you had something to do with this.”

The woman laughed. “It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly,” she purred. “I was so tired of your meddling. Corypheus insisted that the empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him.”

James wasn’t sure who this woman was, but he knew she was to blame. For everything. She was who they had been searching for, and somehow she knew Nassella…

“What’s in this for you, _your Grace_?” Nassella asked. “You’re Orlesian royalty. Why would you help Corypheus attack your empire?”

Florianne laughed again. “You think so small, Inquisitor. Why settle for an empire when Corypheus will remake the entire world? I’ll deliver the entire south of Thedas, and Corypheus will save me. When he has ascended to godhood, I will rule all Thedas in his name.”

This woman was crazy, if she thought any of that would happen…

“You won’t get away with this!” Nassella yelled. “I won’t let you!”

That woman was laughing again. “You poor, deluded thing,” she said, as if Nassella was a child. “You don’t know half of what Samson and I have planned. And now, I suppose you never will. In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself. All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. A pity you’ll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor. They’ll be talking of it for years.” Florianne was moving, gliding off of the balcony. James readjusted his grip. They were done talking, and he and Nassella were still alone… “Kill her,” Florianne added, almost as aside. “Bring me her marked hand. It will make a fine gift for the master.”

_Over my dead body…_

James was already moving, but he know he wouldn’t be fast enough, that the arrows released by the archers would reach Nassella long before he could…

But Nassella didn’t try to duck, or move away. Instead she turned her head and covered her face, the arrows striking her body with dull thuds, a small cry of pain reaching his ears. For a second, he thought she was hit, that she would be gone before he could help…

And then the arrows clattered to the cobblestones, bouncing off her skin as if they had rounded points.

He realized in the next instant that he had been hit as well, an arrow sticking out of his arm, sunk into his back…

He pulled them out and ran, slamming into an archer, knocking him to the ground before slicing his throat. He heard the door to the courtyard shatter, screams echoing across the courtyard, and then Varric and Solas were in the fray, bolts from Bianca whizzing across the courtyard, magic from Solas striking down the line of remaining archers. Another arrow sank into James’ arm, and he pulled it loose before swinging his sword in a large circle, felling two more archers.

Then the demons were on them, shrieking as they attacked, another wave starting to materialize from the rift. By then the men were gone, and killing demons was really becoming second nature to James…

He watched Nassella raise her left hand, green light sparking as she reached for the rift, wrestling with the energy pouring between her body and the Fade, pulling and pushing to heal the tear in the Veil…

It was nearly closed when she cried out in pain, her right hand reaching for the amulet around her neck, and James remembered. Remembered how it had burned her that day with Naomi…

He was running toward her as she threw the amulet to the ground, closing her left fist in the next instant, snapping the Veil together with a rush of air, silence falling in the next moment.

James knelt beside Nassella, craning to see her chest. She was panting, her hands held over the spot where the amulet had rested against her body.

“Ness,” James said gently. “How bad is it?”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, blood spattered across her face. She sniffed and lowered her hands, revealing a diamond shaped wound burned into her skin, red and raw, seeping blood where the skin had been seared away. “I didn’t realize it was burning,” she whispered, lip trembling. “I was so worked up from the fight, and the Anchor always hurts anyway… I didn’t realize…” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“It’s all right,” James said softly. “It will heal…”

“But Naomi,” Nassella continued. “It would have hurt her too.”

James didn’t know what to say. She was right, Naomi would be burned as well, and it hurt to think she was also in pain. Solas arrived at Nassella’s other side, magic already gathering in his hands to heal what he could. “She’ll heal too,” James finally said.

Nassella was still crying, and he could see the guilt settling into her. “She saved my life and I forgot to take it off. The _one_ thing I was supposed to do…”

“Naomi will understand,” Solas said softly, pushing healing magic across her skin, the burn quickly replaced with fresh, pink skin.

James nodded, meeting Nassella’s tear-stained gaze. “She will.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen gripped Naomi’s hand, trying to stay calm, to rationalize that she was all right, that it really wasn’t that bad, the way she was breathing and sweating and shaking…

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t just… make himself feel all right about the way she was hurting.

He wanted her to take off the amulet. But he wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t just _tell_ her to take it off, especially when she wanted to help…

It didn’t last more than a moment, and she relaxed, her breathing slowing. “I think they’re done,” she whispered.

Cullen nodded. “That’s good.”

They sat for a few moments, and after a time, Cullen realized he wasn’t just worried. He was hurt.

She had said nothing to him. For weeks she had known the amulet pained her, and yet she had stayed silent. They were… in a relationship, lovers, he wanted to spend his life with her… and she hadn’t talked to him. Even if it was just a little uncomfortable, he wanted her to tell him those types of things. Nothing was too small to reveal to him.

_And this isn’t small_ , he thought as she gasped suddenly, her hand gripping his tightly once again. This was magic they had not tried to fully understand, and because of that Naomi was hurting. They had all failed to consider the implications, and no one had noticed she was uncomfortable until it was too late, until they were in a position where _not_ using the amulets would leave the Inquisitor too vulnerable.

Naomi moaned softly and Cullen pulled back to look at her face. She was frowning, sweat dewing on her brow, her skin pale. Her breathing was shallow. And there was nothing he could do.

“Naomi, take it off,” he pleaded.

She shook her head. “Not while she’s fighting. I just… need to lie down…”

Cullen helped her to her back. He sat on the couch, one hand clutching hers, wishing he could do something, watching her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took, the amulet resting just below the dip of her clavicle.

And then the silverite started to glow.

Naomi cried out, sitting up as she grappled with the chain holding the amulet around her neck.

“What…?”

“Burns,” she whimpered, tugging on the chain, gasping in pain. “Help…” The chain snapped off in her hand, the metal melted by the heat from the amulet, which had stayed fixed to her chest. She repressed another cry, her face twisted in pain. Cullen could smell her flesh burning.

Panicked, Cullen reached for the amulet, only to instinctively pull away when it seared his fingers. She choked on a sob. “Cullen…” And then it wasn’t just flesh burning, it was the smell of bone…

Naomi went limp. Her body fell heavily to the cushions and Cullen knelt over her, ignoring the blistering pain as he wrestled with the glowing amulet, using his nails, every ounce of his strength, anything to get that Maker-forsaken piece of metal off of her.

It wouldn’t budge, and Cullen began to despair. The metal was sinking into her, and he couldn’t. Do. Anything…

And then it was over. The amulet stopped glowing, the heat subsided. It had only been a matter of seconds, but… whatever had happened in those few short moments had done so much…

His hands were burned raw but Cullen didn’t care, because Naomi’s chest was a mess of flaming red skin, blisters and blood, and the amulet, slightly melted and misshapen, green gem still sparkling in the candlelight, was nearly flush with her skin. He wanted to rip it out of her, but he knew in his gut he wouldn’t be able to.

He reached for her face instead, stroking her jaw, looking for signs of life. “Naomi,” he whispered. He clutched at her neck, his heart racing. “Naomi wake up…” He was useless. Entirely, utterly, useless…

She moaned, turned her head to the side, and Cullen let out a sob of relief. He didn’t know when he had started to cry. “Naomi, love, wake up. Please.” She blinked, her eyes opening, and the first thing Cullen thought was that they were somehow glowing brighter.

Then she was crying, sitting up and groping at the metal in her chest, hands shaking as her fingertips ran across the ruined flesh. “What…?” she asked, voice cracking. She tugged at the metal with a grimace of pain. “It’s stuck…”

Cullen gripped her waist. “It’s all right,” he said, trying to stay calm. But his voice was thick, tears blurring his vision as pain shot through his hands. “You’re all right…”

“Get it off!” she sobbed, clawing at the amulet until she was groaning in pain. “Get it out of me...” She was panting, shaking, panicking…

Cullen grabbed her hands, pulling them away from the wound. He held them in one hand and reached for her face. She couldn’t fall apart now. “Naomi,” he said, stroking her cheek. She was still looking down, at the ruin of her chest, tears dripping from her chin. “Naomi look at me,” he said firmly, gripping her hands. He could see her body trembling. “Naomi, please. Love, look at me…”

She finally did, the whites of her eyes shot with red and shining with tears, the green glowing bright, kohl smudging around the lashes. Her lips were parted, turned down and trembling as short, panicked breaths moved through her body. Cullen’s throat panged when he looked at her. She was terrified.

He ran his thumb along the line of her jaw, across the skin of her cheek. “It’s all right,” he said as calmly as he could. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t let her see how scared he was as well. “I’m here. Try to take deep breaths…”

“It hurts so much,” she croaked. But she tried to slow her breathing. Her hands were now gripping his back, sending pain shooting up his arm.

“I know,” Cullen said gently. “I know. We’ll do something about that…”

“Ok,” she whispered, nodding while attempting to blink away tears. “Ok.”

But what? What could he do to ease the pain? What could he do to get that amulet out of her…?

_A healer. A mage! Vivienne…_

The thought was barely formed when he heard footsteps approaching from the vestibule, and looking up revealed the dark-skinned mage herself, gliding elegantly down the hall despite her haste.

“What’s wrong Commander?” she asked, rolling back the cuffs of her sleeves. “Cole said Naomi was injured.”

“Cole?” Cullen asked. But the spirit was nowhere to be seen, and he decided he didn’t care. Vivienne was here. She would have an idea of how to help… “It’s the amulet,” Cullen said, standing to allow room for Vivienne to examine Naomi, his hand still linked with hers. “It started to burn, and it won’t come out…” The mage shook her head as she eased Naomi back to lying down, gingerly touching the wound, magic flowing from her fingers to Naomi’s skin.

“Burning, blistering, boiling, a pain seared to her chest and spreading within. They joined and she thinks they’ll be angry. They’ll blame her for what happened.” Cullen nearly jumped when Cole appeared at his side, spewing his cryptic comments. “ _I should have spoke, should have said. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t have happened…”_

“Cole,” Naomi said miserably. “Don’t…” Vivienne pressed on the amulet and Naomi hissed, her hand pulling on Cullen’s.

“It burned them both, but it only stuck once. _I forgot. It’s my fault. I had one thing to remember, and now she’s hurt. It’s my fault._ ”

“What is he muttering about?” Vivienne asked, leaning closer over Naomi.

“Ness,” Naomi whispered. “There must have been a rift. She used the mark. She’ll be hurt too.”

That implication worried Cullen. In his panic over what was happening to Naomi, he had failed to remember that something had caused the amulet to react the way that it had, that the amulets had burned _both_ the Inquisitor and Naomi when Nassella used the mark, that there was a rift somewhere in the palace, and that meant demons, and that the Inquisitor was injured just like Naomi…

“No,” Cole said. “Not like Naomi. She took her amulet off.”

“So she’s ok?” Naomi asked.

“Yes,” Cole whispered.

Naomi nodded, her eyes closed. “Good…”

Cullen knelt at her side. He was glad Nassella was all right, but it just meant he could focus more on Naomi. “Can you remove it?” he asked Vivienne.

Vivienne met Cullen’s gaze. “No, I don’t believe I can.”

Dread started to settle in his stomach, chest squeezing around his heart. “Why?” he asked.

“The metal has fused with her flesh, with her bone. It could be cut out, if her skin _could_ be cut, but I would not attempt to do so here.”

“It’s… fused…?” Cullen swallowed, and looked at Naomi. She was staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, breathing heavily through her nose. “That can’t be,” he said. “It needs to come out.”

“I understand Commander,” Vivienne said carefully, precisely. “But I do not have the ability to do so.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, growing angry. “It _hurts_ her. It needs to come out.”

“Cullen,” Naomi said, looking toward him with a shake of her head. “It’s not Vivienne’s fault. Don’t get angry.”

He knew that. If Vivienne said she couldn’t do anything, then he believed her. But Naomi couldn’t stay like this…

“How do you feel?” Vivienne asked Naomi.

Naomi took a deep breath, wincing as her chest moved. “It… aches… so much. And burns…”

“And the effects of the amulet?”

“Um… it’s hard to tell, but… I don’t think Ness is wearing hers and…” She swallowed. “It doesn’t feel any worse than before… I think.”

Cullen stared at Naomi’s face. He could still see she was in pain, but she had somehow calmed herself, and she was no longer on the verge of panic. But it did not change the fact that an amulet made of fade-touched silverite had somehow melted into her body, fused with her flesh…

And they couldn’t get it out. The very ability that protected her now kept them from helping her.

“What c _an_ we do?” he asked Vivienne. “She can’t stay like this.”

“I will heal what I can, and when we are finished here tonight, we will consider our next move.”

Cullen hated the plan. He did not want to wait to search for a solution. He didn’t want to heal that piece of metal more firmly in Naomi’s body…

But there was no other option. They were at the Winter Palace, in the middle of a masquerade, and an assassin stalked the empress. They could not attempt to stabilize Orlais and help Naomi at the same time. They did not have the resources or the time.

Cullen met Naomi’s gaze, his throat constricting when she tried to smile. “That’s fine,” she said. “We’ll figure something out later.”

Logically, he knew that was what they had to do. And he hated it.

Vivienne nodded, placed her hand over Naomi’s burned chest, and sent a wave of healing magic through her body.

Naomi let out a long sigh, her hold on his hand loosening as her skin faded from red to pink, blisters shrinking until all that remained was smooth, slightly scarred tissue surrounding the silverite embedded in her skin. Her breathing calmed, her brow smoothed. “That feels better,” she whispered. “Thank you Vivienne.”

“Of course, my dear,” Vivienne said, helping Naomi sit back up. She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in her dress and wiped the smudged kohl around Naomi’s eyes. “We will find a way to solve this.” Naomi nodded, and Vivienne looked back at the amulet on her chest. It may have been healed, but it didn’t look good.

The mage removed a bracelet from her wrist and slipped it to Naomi’s arm. Then she murmured a few words, let more magic flow from her fingers…

And the amulet disappeared, Naomi’s chest left smooth and unscarred, as if the amulet was gone. Cullen glanced at Naomi’s face and realized her freckles were also gone, along with the scar next to her eye and the scar marking her cheek.

“A simple spell to mask blemishes,” Vivienne explained. “Enhanced to account for the size of this particular wound.”

“We can’t hide what happened,” Cullen said.

“We can for the rest of the night,” Vivienne responded as she rose from the couch. She offered Naomi a hand and helped her to her feet. Naomi stood to her full height, nodding slightly.

“I’ll be all right for now,” she said. “It… doesn’t hurt any more than it was before.”

“Are you sure?” Cullen asked Naomi. “You downplayed it before…”

Naomi looked toward the floor, but she quickly raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “I promise Cullen. It’s no worse than it was before. Just a little nausea, a headache, some buzzing…”

But how long would that last? Cullen had a feeling it would get worse again…

“They’re coming back,” Cole said. Cullen had nearly forgotten the boy was there. “They need to stop her before it’s too late. If she succeeds, Corypheus wins.”

“Ness,” Naomi said. “They must know who the assassin is.”

And Cullen was reminded of what they had come to do, that the fate of Orlais, of the world, was hanging in the balance. He had duties to the Inquisition, duties he couldn’t fulfill in this hidden corner of the palace.

“Go,” Vivienne said. “I will stay with Naomi.” She reached to gently touch his arm. “We will get through this night Commander.”

“Wait. You need to heal his hands,” Naomi insisted, holding up one of his burned hands, fingers red and raw. He’d all but forgotten his own wounds. Vivienne t _sked_ , then quickly healed the burns. Cullen curled his fingers into fists and took a deep breath.

He had to leave. But before he did, Cullen reached for Naomi’s hand and pulled himself close, cradling her face. She looked so strange, without her freckles and scars, her eyes bright green. But it was still the face of the woman he loved. “I will find a way to help you Naomi,” he murmured. She tried to smile again.

“I know Cullen. We’ll figure it out later. Go.”

He leaned in to kiss her, gently, afraid to jostle her and cause her pain. It was short, but the feel of her warm lips pressed to his reassured him that she was alive, no longer crying in pain, no longer panicked.

But he was still afraid. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this afraid, and his duties pulled him away from her.

They would find a way to heal her entirely. They had to.

 

* * *

 

Nassella paused before opening the door that would lead them back to the ballroom, running a finger along the newly healed scar tissue centered in her chest.

She had never felt so guilty in her life, never been so afraid to face one of her friends.

She couldn’t believe she had forgotten to remove the amulet before using the mark. She could be angry that Naomi hadn’t told anyone the amulet was uncomfortable, that she hadn’t trusted anyone enough to say anything. But this… _this_ was her fault. They had tested how the amulets reacted to the Anchor, and she had forgotten. The one thing they knew could go wrong…

“Hey Quizzy, don’t we need to save that floofy empress or something.”

Nassella blinked. “Right. Yes Sera. Of course.”

She pushed open the door. She would have to face Naomi eventually, but it would have to wait.

The ballroom was packed when Nassella entered, the guards at the door yelling in surprise when she entered from the sealed royal wing. She moved through the crowds, weaving between skirts and bodies pressed together, hurrying toward the other end of the room, where Empress Celene had spent the majority of the night.

Nassella was still trying to work out what she was going to do. After finding Gaspard’s mercenary captain in the gardens, she knew that all three of them, Gaspard, Celene, Briala… had done terrible things. And Nassella still wasn’t comfortable throwing her support behind any of them.

But she knew she didn’t want Celene to die. That wasn’t a solution.

She caught sight of Cullen shouldering his way past a group of masked women, moving toward her, and she was momentarily wrenched from her focus on the empress back to Naomi. Cullen must have been with her…

“Inquisitor!” Cullen said, “There you are. The empress is about to give her speech. What should we do?”

Nassella blinked. He wasn’t talking about Naomi, he was talking about the empress. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t so serious that he couldn’t focus on their primary mission.

She would do the same. But what _exactly_ should she do? Nassella looked around the ballroom. She could see Celene at the end of the room, leaving her guards behind as she prepared to address the court. And there, on the dance floor below, she could see Florianne and Gaspard approaching their cousin.

Nassella knew she couldn’t let that happen, because if Florianne reached Celene, that would be it. The end…

Florianne looked so calm, so… _pleased_ with herself as she approached the empress, a smug smile turning up her lips. And why shouldn’t she look pleased? She thought Nassella was dead, thought she was walking toward victory, where she would kill Celene in front of everyone and bring chaos to Orlais for Corypheus.

It made Nassella angry. That Florianne would betray her family, her country, the very peace of the entire world. It was madness, and Florianne just _smiled._

Nassella was done playing The Game. She was done trying to dance around her words for the Orlesians, tell half-truths, and hide her intentions. Florianne was steps away from Celene, and Nassella knew she needed to act.

“I’m going to have a word with the Duchess,” she told Cullen, eyes fixed on Florianne.

“What?” Cullen asked. “There’s no time.”

But Nassella was moving away from him, toward the stairs. There was no time to _explain,_ and everything started to fall away as she walked. Her argument with James, Naomi and the burning amulet, Cullen muttering behind her… nothing existed but Florianne and the anger Nassella felt toward her. _This_ is what she was here for. Not to dance. Not to sweet talk Orlesians… She was here to stop another of Corypheus’ plans. Once this was secure, they would be that much closer to stopping him for good.

Nassella knew it was probably foolish to approach Florianne alone, but she could hear the footfalls of Solas and James behind her, hear Sera muttering insults under her breath… She wasn’t alone, and none of those gathered behind would let anything happen to her. She slipped her hand into a hidden pocket of her dress and turned the amulet she had placed there over with her fingers. She could feel the small sparks of electricity flowing over her skin and her chest clenched. Despite everything, Naomi was still wearing her amulet, still trying to protect her. Nassella didn’t know what she had done to deserve support like this, f _riends_ like this, but she felt braver and more confident than she had the entire night. She reached the stairs and took a deep breath, throwing her shoulders back and raising a hand to stall those who were following her. She placed a bare foot on the first step that would lead her down toward Florianne.

She was the Inquisitor, and it didn’t matter what the Orlesians thought of her, what had happened that night. She was going to find a way to stop Florianne and bring peace to Orlais. There was no other option.

She let go of the amulet and descended the stairs, smiling when Florianne caught sight of her and came to a halt, mouth dropping open in surprise.


	87. Dance With Me

Naomi stood next to Vivienne at the back of the ballroom, near the door. Vaguely, she was aware that people were moving in front of her, that they were talking and laughing. Many stopped to talk with Vivienne, but Naomi couldn’t recall what was said.

She was too focused on the amulet. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, could barely keep herself from raising a hand to her chest and touching it, feel it stuck inside her skin…

And it wasn’t just the skin. Vivienne had said it was fused to her bone, and Naomi could tell. Not only had the pain been nearly unbearable, an ache permeating her chest like nothing she had ever experienced, but even healed she could tell it was stuck, a weight on her chest that wouldn’t move, that was tight and pulled whenever she took a deep breath, or moved her arms, or turned her head…

It felt wrong to look down and see nothing, as if everything was normal. But nothing was normal, and Naomi wasn’t sure if things would ever be normal again.

She wasn’t in pain, but she was scared. So many things had happened with the amulets that night. Most, Naomi knew she could have anticipated. She knew the magic made her uncomfortable, and she should have considered that the sensations would only get worse the longer she wore them.

But she could not have anticipated _this._ That it would melt into her body…

She didn’t know what else might happen, and that uncertainty terrified her. Most of her discomfort, to her surprise, had all but disappeared, the amulet doing nothing but gently vibrating in her chest, emanating a soft warmth that might have been pleasant if it came from any other source. But if that changed…

She hated all of this. It was what she had wanted to avoid in the first place, people worrying about her being in a little pain. And now, it wasn’t little anymore, and it was her fault because she hadn’t been honest, and everything had spun out of control, and everyone would be upset, or angry, or worried…

She wasn’t nauseous because of the amulet. She was dreading facing Nassella, her brother, Cullen, and everyone else. There were so many more important things to focus on than her, but she couldn’t avoid it. She couldn’t run away from this problem, or try to deal with it on her own.

_What if we can’t get it out? What if it’s stuck in me forever…?_

“How are you feeling?” Vivienne asked quietly as the noble she had been conversing with walked away.

_Sick, nervous, afraid, ashamed…_

“I’m all right,” Naomi replied. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“You’ll let me know if that changes,” Vivienne said. Naomi knew it wasn’t a request.

“Of course I will,” Naomi promised. Then she saw movement along one side of the ballroom, people being displaced as others moved quickly through the crowd. Naomi could just make out James’ dark head, and Bull was definitely there…

“I believe the Inquisitor has returned,” Vivienne said. “We should be prepared for the worst.”

The worst. As in fighting. As in everything falling apart…

“What should we do?” Naomi wasn’t sure. She was tired, exhausted after everything that had happened, and she wasn’t sure she could help if it came to fighting. But she certainly didn’t feel comfortable running away and leaving everyone behind. Surely she could still do something.

“We will see what the Inquisitor does,” Vivienne said. Naomi nodded, catching sight of Nassella through a gap in the crowd. Even from this distance she could see the red stain of blood on her skin, on her dress.

Then Nassella stalled at the top of the stairs leading to the dance floor, and Naomi felt the amulet in her chest increase its vibrations and her heart start to race. Nassella was clearly touching the other amulet, and Naomi didn’t know what to do. She was quickly growing lightheaded, and feared she was going to faint again…

Then the feeling subsided, and Nassella took a step down the stairs. Naomi took a deep breath, trying to relax. She’d never reacted that violently to Nassella just touching the amulet, and she feared that if the elf tried to use the amulet again, fainting would be the least of her problems.

“Is something wrong?” Vivienne asked. Naomi didn’t know how the other woman could tell. Vivienne had paid her so little attention before that night.

“Nassella touched the amulet,” Naomi said. “It was worse than before. She… she can’t do it again. I don’t think I could take it…”

Then Vivienne slipped her arm through Naomi’s. “She is just talking for the moment,” she said. “We will find a way to tell her she can’t use it.”

Naomi nodded, and clutched Vivienne a little more tightly. She was still recovering, and if Nassella touched the amulet again…

But she didn’t, and Naomi watched and listened with the rest of the court as Nassella exposed the Grand Duchess, Celene’s cousin, as the assassin, proceeding to have her arrested in full sight of the entire Orlesian court.

As Nassella walked away with Celene, Gaspard, and Briala to talk, Naomi let herself relax more fully. There would be no more fighting. Nassella wouldn’t need the amulet. She could make it through the rest of the night.

“She did well,” Vivienne said. “Very well.” Then she looked toward Naomi. “And you my dear?”

“I’m feeling better,” Naomi said. “I think I’ll be all right for now.”

Vivienne patted her hand, then released her arm. “Good. Now I believe your brother is looking for you.”

Naomi looked around, and sure enough she could see James making his way through the crowded ballroom, scanning over heads as he moved with purpose through the packed bodies, shoving his way none too gently past a number of partyers. She saw the moment he found her, his eyes locked on her.

“I would suggest keeping the amulet to yourself,” Vivienne said. “We do not want him to make a scene.”

Naomi sighed. She didn’t want to lie, but Vivienne was right. James would be worried, and he wouldn’t be good at keeping his distress to himself.

So when he finally reached them, Naomi just smiled. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said as he approached.

James frowned. “Of course I’m fine. I’m worried about you. The amulet burned Ness pretty bad back in the courtyard. I figured you would be too…” He glanced down at her chest, and Naomi started to blush. He was looking right at the amulet, but he couldn’t see. His frown deepened. “You look fine.”

“I am fine,” Naomi said. She hoped she sounded convincing.

“But I thought it burned you back that day when we were training.”

Naomi turned the enchanted bracelet around her wrist. She couldn’t look at him. “Well, it did burn me. But Vivienne took care of it. You don’t have to worry about it.” She glanced back up.

James stared at the spot on her chest where the hidden amulet sat for another moment, then sighed. “I guess I knew you would find someone to help. Vivienne did an even better job of healing than Solas.” Naomi looked back down at the bracelet. He would be so angry when she finally told him the truth. She looked up into his eyes and smiled.

“I’m fine James. Everything turned out fine.”

But James didn’t smile. “Why are your eyes still green?”

Naomi stopped twisting the bracelet. She’d forgotten about her eyes. He would know she was still touching the amulet. They all would.

“I believe the effects of the amulet will take some time to entirely wear off,” Vivienne offered as explanation. “She has removed it, but I believe she will feel weak for a little while yet. I am sure her eyes will return to their normal color soon.”

Naomi swallowed, then smiled again. “It’s fine James. I already feel better.”

James studied her a moment longer, then his frown smoothed. “All right,” he said with a nod. “But you are never wearing that thing again. It’s not worth the trouble.”

Naomi’s throat panged, and she swallowed back another lump forming in her throat. All she could do was nod.

Then Vivienne was sweeping in once more to save her. “James, would you mind telling me what transpired in the royal wing? I can see there was fighting.” James glanced down at his shirt, and Naomi realized for the first time that he was no longer wearing his jacket, and that his white undershirt was stained in multiple places with his blood.

“Yeah, there was some fighting. And a rift obviously…”

Naomi tried to pay attention, but she found her mind wandering back to the amulet while James talked. Her brother was just going to be angrier the longer she waited to tell him what had really happened, but there was no way she could tell him now, in the middle of a crowded ballroom. And she would just have to keep lying the longer they stayed. She could already see Bull and Dorian moving in her direction, and Nassella would probably find her as soon as she could. Naomi’s stomach twisted at the thought, and all she wanted to do was get away from everybody, from the stifling crowds, the music…

And then the tone of the crowd shifted, and everyone turned back toward the front of the ballroom in a slow wave. Naomi saw Nassella entering the room once again, followed by Celene, Gaspard, and Briala. She looked at James, and she could see him staring at Nassella. Then he walked away without a word, moving to be closer to the elf.

Naomi shook her head. She had no doubt that James loved Nassella, and in that moment, she was grateful for his tendency to focus on only one thing at a time.

“I’m going to step outside,” Naomi told Vivienne. “I need some fresh air.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Vivienne asked.

Naomi let out a long breath. “I don’t know, but I just… can’t stay in here anymore. You can come if you’re worried.”

“Are you truly feeling better?”

Naomi blushed, not missing the distrust behind the question. “I promise I am. And Ness has no reason to use the amulet again tonight.”

Vivienne nodded. “I trust you will find someone if your condition changes.” The mage turned away as Celene began to talk, and Naomi slipped away. The crowd was thick as she moved, every head turned to listen as Celene and Gaspard addressed the court, Nassella’s voice carrying through the room after a moment. But Naomi didn’t hear their words, focused as she was at finding a way through the bodies, toward the door that would lead her to fresh air, and silence, and distance from any person who might ask one more time if she was all right, if she was telling the truth…

She finally slipped outside, deeply breathing in the cool air, looking up at the sky where stars were shining as they always did, the moons making their predictable passes around the world. Naomi removed the bracelet from her wrist so she could look at the amulet, and finally allow herself to gently touch the metal as she walked toward the balcony, stomach twisting slightly as she remembered the pain, remembered the shock of seeing the blood, the amulet buried in her body. She tugged gently, chest still aching slightly as she did. It was unmoving, stuck, and Naomi felt herself beginning to cry.

She didn’t know how they would get it out. Healing the wound had revealed just how much it had fused into her skin. As Naomi ran her fingers across the amulet, she almost couldn’t tell where skin ended and metal began. There was a small bump of scar tissue, but otherwise, it was as if it was part of her…

It would have to be cut out, but if it was fused to bone as well… Naomi dropped her hands and leaned against the balcony, looking down into the garden below. It didn’t matter. Nothing could cut through her skin.

Then Naomi remembered Alec, and she lifted her hand to trace the scar he had left cutting across her cheek to her lip. Alec had injured her, after using a purge to cut her off from the Fade in an attempt to keep her from using magic…

A Templar could do the same again. Once she was separated from the magic of the Fade, her skin would be vulnerable. They could get the fade-touched silverite out of her.

Naomi dropped her hand and closed her eyes. That plan came with its own risks, but it was something. It was a chance.

 

* * *

 

Nassella walked away from Celene and Gaspard, passing where Briala was leaning against a pillar. It was over. It was done. They were all going to work together to rule Orlais. Nassella had needed to twist their arms, use nearly every bit of blackmail she had gathered that night against them… but she had done it. Somehow, she had managed to stop Florianne and help keep Orlais from falling apart.

And now she could relax, finally get out of everyone’s line of sight, _leave_ this place…

But then Josephine and Leliana were on her, asking questions, wondering how she had managed to bring everyone together. Nassella couldn’t go into details; it would defeat the purpose to have the secrets she had discovered made known to the wrong ears, but they seemed satisfied enough with her vague explanations and promises of a full report in private.

Nassella was nearly ready to escape when Josephine placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her toward some nobleman and his wife to talk…

They didn’t seem to notice that she was covered in blood as they praised the Inquisition, her beauty, the party, inviting themselves to Skyhold at the soonest opportunity. The pair was quickly replaced with another, and then a third, and by the time Nassella _did_ escape, her neck and shoulders were aching from the way she was clenching her fists, her cheeks sore from trying to smile. She considered it had been foolish to think her work was done once peace had been made. She had solidified her place as someone of import to the Orlesians, elf or not, and _now_ they were clamoring to meet her, when her patience had all but worn away.

She found an empty balcony, retreating to the furthest corner in an attempt to hide. She had slipped away from Josephine as the woman turned away, and Nassella tried not to feel guilty for abandoning her ambassador. But she trusted her friend would understand, and easily placate any disappointed nobles.

Then Morrigan found her. Celene’s occult advisor had given Nassella the key that gained her access to the servant’ quarters, and though Nassella had briefly suspected the mage of being the assassin, that was clearly no longer the case. Morrigan had been helpful, so Nassella talked with the woman, coming away from that conversation with a new liaison between Orlais and the Inquisition…

When Morrigan finally left her, Nassella knew she didn’t want to talk with anyone else that night. She didn’t know how late it was, but it didn’t seem like the party was anywhere near stopping, the music still playing loudly, people dancing and drinking as if someone hadn’t just tried to assassinate their empress. Nassella wondered when it would be appropriate to leave.

_Actually… I really don’t care what’s appropriate anymore._

The night had taken so much out of her, and though she was pleased with the outcome, relieved to have succeeded… she was done acting like someone she wasn’t. Like someone who enjoyed politics and manipulation and false courtesies…

She was listening to crickets chirping from the ground below when she heard footsteps approaching from the ballroom. Nassella tensed, ready to turn and make an excuse, find some way to run away from whoever wanted to talk to her now…

But relaxed when she saw Solas, smiling softly as he joined her at the balcony’s edge. Despite her aversion for company, Nassella found herself grateful that he was there. He had been by her side the entire night, and though she knew her focus had not often been on him, it was comforting to know she could count on Solas even when she wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here,” he said, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. “Thoughts?”

Nassella smiled wearily. “It’s been a very long day. I’ll be happy to get away.”

“For everyone I imagine,” he said softly.

Yes, everyone had had a long day…

“Naomi!” Nassella said, standing straight and turning back toward the ballroom. “I need to find her…” She couldn’t believe she had forgotten.

“She is all right vhenan,” Solas said, his hand still on her arm. “I asked James if he had seen her. She was healed by Vivienne, and I believe Cullen was going to look for her. Give them a moment to be together.”

Nassella hesitated, but eventually turned back. “I’m glad,” she said, relieved to know Naomi wasn’t still injured, though still guilty she had been injured at all. “I need to remember to apologize to her though.”

“Of course,” Solas said. “Though I got the impression from James that she is not angry.”

“Of course she’s not angry,” Nassella said with a sigh. “She never stays angry.”

Solas chuckled. “That is very true.” He squeezed her shoulder. “And what about you? Are you still angry with Gaspard and the others?”

Nassella let out a long breath, then shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe some. I’m just glad they agreed to work together.”

“I’ll admit I was surprised,” Solas said, dropping his hand to take her own in his. “What made you decide to support all three?”

“Support?” Nassella asked with a laugh. “I blackmailed all of them.”

Solas grinned. “Still, to place all three in power was inspired.”

Nassella chewed on her lip, looking down at their joined hands. She wasn’t sure how Solas would react to her reasoning. “It was actually something James said,” she answered. “He’d suggested getting rid of all three, and even though I knew I couldn’t do that, I thought… why not _keep_ all three? They all have something to offer Orlais, so maybe working together they could actually make things better. It wouldn’t be just one person.” Then she shrugged. “At the very least, once we take down Corypheus, _I_ won’t be the one who has to choose the sole leader of Orlais.”

Solas squeezed her hand, and she looked up to see him smiling down at her. “It may be turbulent at times, but I’m sure no one could have devised a better outcome.”

Nassella smiled back. She had been worried about how her actions would be received, but so far everyone had been pleased, and she realized she valued Solas’ praise above all else.

Nassella heard the music shift, and watched as Solas closed his eyes, his head nodding slightly with the beat. He didn’t look tired at all, or weary of the nobles. “You seem to be enjoying yourself tonight,” she said.

Solas opened his eyes and grinned. “I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and _sex_ that permeates these events.”

It was not what Nassella had expected him to say, and she was momentarily flustered. “Well, there was plenty of that tonight,” she finally said.

“Indeed,” Solas said with a small chuckle. His eyes searched her face. “I know you did not enjoy yourself in the same way.”

Nassella shook her head, then looked out over the gardens stretching below. “I’m afraid not. I’d choose a quiet night outside every time. Preferably with just a good friend or two.”

Solas slipped his arm around her waist, drawing their bodies close. Nassella looked up into his eyes, filled with warmth and love for _her_. Guilt wrenched her chest, made her stomach churn. He shouldn’t be looking at her like that. She had confessed her love to James just the night before…

And he had soundly rejected her. Her emotions were still a tangled mess, but standing with Solas so close, Nassella began to hope that perhaps she could find her way through and finally leave James behind. There was no future there.

“We could explore the gardens,” Solas said quietly. “Or,” he added with a small grin, eyes crinkling in what Nassella could only describe as mischief. “Dance with me,” he said, bending at the waist into a graceful bow, his hand extended toward her. “Before the band stops playing.”

Nassella felt herself grinning. Despite her decision to forgo any more of the ball’s festivities… dancing with Solas sounded wonderful. So she took his hand and stepped into his arms. “I’d love to,” she said quietly.

As much as she wanted to dance with Solas, for the first few steps Nassella could only think of James and their dance the night before, and the way he had hurt her. But as they moved with the music, Nassella noticed the differences. Solas was a better dancer, leading her effortlessly through a complicated series of steps, avoiding both her feet and gown while looking into her eyes the entire time. His eyes, intense gray instead of blue and green, actually looking into hers, softened by love. The more she looked back into that gaze, the surer she felt that Solas was the man she needed, the man she could love forever. Solas had made her wait, but he had never made her cry, and his steady, unwavering support was what she needed in a world that felt more uncertain than not. Even with their victory that night, Nassella knew Corypheus would strike back. And this time, she would not have the guidance of the future to help her. She needed Solas and his support, his advice and his love.

“I love you,” she whispered as the song drew to a close. Solas smiled, and its tenderness made Nassella’s chest ache. It was the reaction she wanted, needed. It was what James would never give her.

Solas bent done, cupping her cheeks and resting his forehead against her. “Ar lath ma,” he murmured, back, closing the distance to bring his lips to hers. She breathed deeply, smelling the subtle spice of his skin, tasting the wine on his lips, and pulled herself close.

_I don’t kiss him enough._

 

* * *

 

Cullen searched the entire ballroom for Naomi, and by the time he found her he was anxious, angry. She was outside, alone, leaning against a balcony under the night sky. He couldn’t believe she had isolated herself in such a way. If something had happened…

“Someone should be with you,” he said as he approached. “Where is Vivienne?”

Naomi turned, her hand held to her chest, fingers brushing the now exposed amulet. Cullen’s throat constricted. The troubles of that night had not ended with the Inquisitor’s speech. There were consequences to deal with for hours yet, days, weeks even…

He prayed Naomi would not have to deal with these consequences forever.

“She’s inside,” Naomi said quietly. “I just… wanted to be alone.”

“You should have stayed with her,” he said angrily. Naomi looked down at her hands, slipping the bracelet back on her wrist. The amulet disappeared.

“I feel better than I have all night,” she said. “I’m fine.”

Cullen frowned. “You’ve been saying that all night, but things aren’t fine…”

“I know they’re not!” Naomi exclaimed suddenly, eyes flashing toward him. “And I don’t want to lie anymore. That’s why I came out here, ok? So I wouldn’t have to try and pretend everything’s all right around anyone.” She leaned against the balcony, bowing her head into her hands. He heard her sniff.

He was surprised by her outburst, she had seemed so calm since Vivienne had healed her. But despite her appearance of peace, she was afraid, agitated. Cullen placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling a pang of guilt. He should be trying to make her feel better, comfort her. Not accuse her of doing something wrong. “I’m sorry Naomi. I just wish you had said something sooner.”

Naomi glanced up at him. “I know, I do too,” she said, already calmer. “But it really was just a little pain until tonight, and I didn’t want to complain. It seemed so much more important to help Ness.” She shook her head, looking down to play with the bracelet on her wrist. “I feel like no one understands why I kept it to myself. It was just a little discomfort. You deal with so much more every day, and James gets injured all the time...”

Cullen sighed. He hadn’t meant to upset her, make her feel defensive. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand working through pain… he just wished she hadn’t felt like she needed to.

He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you remember when I told you I had broken an ankle when I was training to become a Templar?”

Naomi nodded, her fingers slowly tangling with his. “Yeah, when I was teaching you words for different body parts. You said you broke it sparring and had to spend your time studying military techniques in the library for six weeks. I still don’t understand why someone didn’t just send for a mage to heal you.”

Cullen couldn’t help but grin. He hadn’t been sure she would remember… it had been months since they had that conversation. But he remembered what she had told him, that she had never broken anything during her life on Earth. She’d had little more than a flu her entire life.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that I had fallen three days before that, tweaking my ankle. It ached those entire three days, but I kept it to myself, thinking I could work through it. Then I broke the thing and had to sit in the dusty library for weeks.” He reached for her face and turned it toward him, gently running his thumb along her jaw. “I understand why you tried to work through the pain,” he said quietly. “But you didn’t need to.”

Her lips turned up slightly. “I really am sorry,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “I didn’t know any of this would happen.”

Cullen nodded. “I know.” Then he sighed. “But we all should have considered there would be consequences to using this magic.”

Her other hand returned to her chest, running over where the amulet was now hidden. “Yeah… it’s a bit different than breaking a bone…” she murmured.

_Yes, it’s far from the same…_

She had gone her entire life without being seriously injured, and since coming to Thedas had broken multiple bones, nearly died from illness, been attacked and scarred…

She was lucky to be alive.

“You truly are feeling better?” he asked. She grimaced.

“Yes,” she said shortly. “I told you I’m not trying to hide anything.”

“Of course,” he said. “I… wasn’t suggesting you were.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just worried…”

Naomi bowed her head. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just… a little stressed.”

Cullen slipped his hand around her waist. “The night is almost over. Then we can focus on a solution.”

Naomi nodded. “I had a thought about that, actually. A Templar could remove my abilities, and then it could be cut out…”

Cullen tensed. “No,” he said. “That can’t be our course of action. That’s worse than anything the amulet did.” Alec had nearly killed her when he used his abilities against her, and Cullen’s heart was racing at the memory.

“It was just a thought,” Naomi said quietly. “I know there are risks, but maybe we could find a way around them.”

Cullen wasn’t convinced. “We can think of another way. Some magic that won’t hurt you.”

“Well, I don’t know what that would be,” Naomi whispered, looking down toward the garden below.

Cullen didn’t either, and he looked up at the moon hopelessly. He was unequipped to handle this problem, to offer Naomi promises that he could heal her, return her body to normal. He had worked around mages nearly his entire life, but he did not know what magic could help her. All he could do was stay with her, offer what support he could…

Naomi leaned into him, her thumb wandering across the skin of his hand, and despite everything, it felt good. Perhaps it was enough to just be with her, show her that she could talk to him, count on him to offer understanding, someone to lean on when the future seemed uncertain.

Cullen may be upset, but his feelings were the only things wounded. She was the one potentially in danger.

But in that moment, he could almost imagine everything w _as_ fine. That the Inquisitor had stabilized Orlais, and now he could relax and enjoy a beautiful evening with a beautiful woman, hold her hand and relish the warmth of her body brushing against his, the curves of her body beneath his palm. He looked at her face as she stared out over the garden, tracing the familiar lines of her profile with his eyes, music faintly drifting from the ballroom behind them, and had the urge to ask her to dance, of all things…

 _And why shouldn’t I?_ He’d thought he was going to lose her, earlier that night, when she fell unconscious as the amulet burned into her body. And it was still in her, and though it had calmed, he was still afraid. Afraid that would change.

He’d already turned down a chance to dance with her before. He didn’t want to miss another.

“Dance with me,” he said softly. Her brows pulled together briefly, then she turned her face toward his.

“What?”

He backed away, gripping her hand in his. “Will you dance with me?”

Naomi gripped him back, a small smile breaking across her face. “I thought you didn’t dance?”

No, he didn’t. “For you, I’ll try,” he said as she stepped into his arms.

But she resisted his first step. “I… never actually learned how,” she whispered, apologetic.

Cullen laughed. Of course she wouldn’t know how. He was finally going to dance with this woman he loved, and she didn’t know how…

“Why are you laughing?” she asked.

Cullen shook his head. “This is going to be a disaster.”

She smirked, then released his hand and slipped her hands around his neck. He dropped his hands to her waist. “Not if we dance like this,” she whispered, slowly shifting her feet, encouraging him to do the same…

It was simple, uncomplicated, little more than swaying with the music. “This is a dance?” he asked. Naomi nodded, still grinning, her eyes fixed on his.

“On Earth, yes.”

She moved closer, her breasts brushing against his chest, her hips pressed against his. Cullen held her tighter, body warming at her proximity. His eyes roamed over her face, the rounded line of her jaw to her full curved lips, up her nose to her eyes, looking back at him just as intently, shining green in the moonlight…

Green. It was the wrong color. He could pretend, dance like nothing was wrong…

_No. Nothing is wrong. Right now, everything is perfect…_

Naomi sighed, and Cullen thought she looked so _happy._ “I’ve never danced with anyone like this,” she murmured. “It’s really nice.”

Cullen smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “Yes it is.”

 

* * *

 

James wandered through the ballroom, keeping his feet moving, as if he had somewhere to be. He’d tried standing against a wall after the speeches, but quickly been driven to walking as a number of women approached him asking to dance, grinning and asking about the fighting…

They weren’t deterred by the blood on his shirt. If anything, they seemed to like it. Frowning and glaring had also failed to work, so he’d made excuses, ran away. He was tired of this ball, and wished he had the capacity to leave.

He passed Vivienne at one point, and paused when he realized Naomi was no longer with her. He approached, ignoring the nobles the mage was speaking with.

“Where did Naomi go?” he asked. Vivienne turned her cool gaze toward him, then raised a single eyebrow.

“You can find her outside,” she said. Then she turned back to her companions.

James left in search of his sister, realizing he had left her earlier without a word. He found the nearest door leading outside, but stopped at what he say.

Naomi and Cullen were dancing, foreheads pressed together, no space between their bodies. Naomi was smiling, and as James watched she tilted her head up, placing a gentle kiss on Cullen’s lips. James’ face started to heat, and he quickly turned away. Of course Cullen had found Naomi first. They were always together…

Back in the ballroom, James didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t see anyone he knew among the sea of strangers, he didn’t want to dance, or drink wine, or eat…

So he kept walking. It was all he could do, now that the fighting was over. He passed Varric talking to a host of Orlesians, and noted Sera talking with a group of servants. He thought about approaching Blackwall, but the Warden appeared to be deep into a conversation with a couple of chevaliers. The room was so crowded, and James understood why Naomi had retreated outside. He decided to do the same.

But what he saw on the next balcony had him hurrying back inside, his chest aching.

Nassella was kissing Solas. But it wasn’t soft like the embrace James had seen Naomi give Cullen. No, even from the doorway James could sense the heat, as Solas pressed Nassella against the railing, his hand clutching at her ass, the other pushing beneath the slit of her dress to rest on her thigh. Nassella, in turn, was clutching at his neck, her lips locked with his, not pulling away to even breathe…

James nearly knocked over a tiny noblewoman has he blindly pushed his way back into the ballroom, giggles assaulting his ears. He knew they likely weren’t aimed at him, but it felt like another slap in the face, mocking him for loving a woman who loved someone else…

He had nearly circled the ballroom when he stopped. He couldn’t go past that balcony again.

“Are you all right James?” a woman asked. It was Josephine. “You look troubled.”

James shook his head, frowning down at the Antivan woman. “I’m fine,” he said.

Josephine smiled. “You can relax James. Tonight was a triumph. You should be proud of how you helped the Inquisitor.”

James nodded. He _was_ proud of how he’d helped, but he didn’t want to think about Nassella and what she was doing…

“Can I get you anything?” Josephine asked. “A drink perhaps? Or would you like to dance?”

That made James pause. He couldn’t rudely turn down a dance with Josephine. She was kind, and he would see her again. But she wasn’t asking him to dance because she liked him. She just wanted to keep an eye on him, calm him down.

“I’m sorry, I’m not really in the mood for dancing,” James said. Josephine nodded, but James couldn’t help but feel like she looked disappointed.

“You should ask Blackwall,” James said quickly. “I saw him talking with some chevaliers over there…”

Josephine smiled, and James thought she blushed. “Blackwall?” she asked shyly. “I’m not sure he would want to…”

James nodded. If he couldn’t be happy, or with the person he wanted, at least everyone else could. “I’m sure he would,” he told Josephine.

But she didn’t leave. “Are you sure nothing is wrong?” she asked him. “You’ve been wandering constantly since the speeches.”

James shrugged. “I’m still worked up from the fighting. I’ll calm down eventually.”

Josephine nodded, then reached to gently squeeze his arm. “You did well tonight, James. At least try to enjoy the rest of the ball.”

James tried to smile, but sighed as Josephine walked away in Blackwall’s direction. There had been nothing to enjoy the entire night. He didn’t want to dance, or talk, and he’d avoided drinking…

Drink. He could drink. A servant passed with a tray of drinks and James grabbed a glass of wine, downing the alcohol in two gulps. Maybe he could find something to enjoy after all.


	88. In the Open

Nassella stared at her hand, at the cracked scar that crossed her palm, flickering every few moments with the green light of the Anchor. For all the months this mark had been a part of her, it had only helped. It closed rifts, closed the Breach… it hurt at times, but only her. Only ever her…

Until tonight. Tonight it hadn’t just hurt her. It had hurt her friend in a way she could never have imagined.

Naomi hadn’t just been burned by the amulet when Nassella used the mark to close that rift.

_I hurt her so much. I maimed her… marred her forever…_

The amulet was still there. Naomi hadn’t removed it, she wasn’t fine.

The amulet was _still in her_.

Nassella didn’t know how a night that had ended so perfectly, with Solas wrapped around her, his lips pressed to hers as his hands wandered perhaps a bit too far while they were in public, sending her heart racing and her mind diving into a deep spiral of desire and hope and possibility… had turned toward this.

She’d apologized as they loaded the carriages, Naomi looking right back and smiling, saying everything was all right, forgiven, healed…

And then they reached the nobleman’s mansion and Cullen had asked for a meeting, leading Nassella, her advisors, James, Naomi, and the mages to the room that had served as their war table away from Skyhold. Naomi had removed a bracelet from her arm, revealing that everything was not in fact all right, that she wasn’t healed…

For a moment, Nassella had been unable to breathe. She’d wanted to cry. It was her fault. She’d done this to Naomi. Once again, a night that should have been filed with relief, with celebration, was tarnished. Her victories were never complete. She had chosen the mages and closed the Breach, but Haven was still destroyed by the Templars she had abandoned. She had stopped the Wardens at Adamant, but had sacrificed Stroud to the Fade. She had removed the threat to Josephine’s life, only for her clan to die. Orlais was at peace and Nassella was alive, but she’d made a mistake, and now Naomi was hurt…

There were so many choices, so many decisions Nassella had made, and she couldn’t see if they were right, because everywhere she looked there were consequences, mistakes that were hers. Only hers…

Nassella tried to imagine what it had looked like when the wound was fresh, before Vivienne had healed her, imagine exactly what she had done to her friend. Cullen told them what happened, carefully keeping his voice low and controlled as he described what the amulet had done to Naomi as Nassella used the mark. But Nassella could see the tension in his stance, the worried set of his brow. Naomi stood next to Cullen as he spoke, one hand crossed over her stomach, the other gently touching the green gem set in the silverite embedded in her chest, her eyes fixed on some undefined spot of the floor. She didn’t say anything, just stood next to Cullen, expression blank as he told them how she had bled and burned and cried…

_I did this…_

“You lied!” James yelled the moment Cullen was finished, advancing toward his sister. “You said it was gone. You said you were fine!”

Naomi finally looked up, crossing both arms over her chest defensively. “I’m sorry! But you couldn’t do anything back there, and you would’ve freaked out…”

James was right in front of Naomi, towering over her. But she didn’t step back, just glared at her younger brother. “No I wouldn’t,” he said. Naomi reached out and pushed him a step back.

“Yes, you would have, just like you are now. Yelling won’t help anything. So just… stop. Please.”

“We’re telling you now,” Cullen interjected. “Now that we can focus our energies on a solution.” James glared at Cullen, then at Naomi, but retreated to a corner of the room where he crossed his arms and continued to glare.

“The amulet has fused down to the bone,” Vivienne said, drawing everyone’s attention away from the brooding James. “I examined what I could at the Winter Palace, but we will need more thorough examinations to determine the full extent of the damage, and to find a way to remove the metal from her body.”

“Are you still in pain?” Josephine asked.

Naomi shook her head. “Not really. It’s vibrating a little, and it’s warm…”

“May I have a look?” Dorian asked, stepping toward Naomi with a hand raised. She nodded, turning her head toward Cullen as Dorian ran his fingers across the amulet, magic spreading into her chest. “This is quite remarkable,” the mage muttered as he worked. “It’s nearly impossible to tell where the amulet begins and your body ends. Visually you can see the difference, but beneath the surface their signatures are almost identical.” He took a head back with a shake of his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to remove it off the top of my head. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“That’s ok,” Naomi said.

_No. It’s not ok…_

“How did this happen?” Nassella asked, her voice soft. “Why didn’t my amulet do the same? Why did it only burn me, but attach to Naomi…?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why had she come away so unscathed?

Solas stepped forward next, bringing not only his hands, but his face close to the amulet in Naomi’s chest. The woman swallowed and turned away, watching Cullen as her face turned pink. Then Solas whispered something, traced his finger across Naomi’s chest, and tugged on a small tendril of magic, drawing a small grunt from Naomi.

“Stop,” Naomi whispered, raising a hand to Solas’s. “That hurt…”

“I apologize,” Solas said, stepping away from Naomi. “As for your question,” he continued, turning toward Nassella. “It fused with Naomi because she is fade-touched. The silverite and her skin share properties. This common magic allowed the amulets to work in the first place, transferring similar abilities to you when wearing them together. Pouring energy from the mark through the amulets increased the attraction of the silverite for Naomi’s body, allowing them to become one. You were only burned because your skin did not have a similar affinity for the metal.”

“Is she in danger?” Cullen asked. “Will she get sick again?”

Solas placed his hands behind his back. “It is difficult to say. Naomi has always had a stronger connection to the Fade than non-mages. However, there is significantly more energy from the Fade moving through her body than before. Currently, she is able to manage the increased magic with minimal effects. That however, could very well change. We have already seen that too much Fade magic overwhelms her and makes her ill. I suspect the longer this fade-touched silverite is a part of her, the more she will deteriorate.”

For a moment, everyone was silent. Naomi had closed her eyes, and Nassella could see her breathing deeply, likely trying to stay calm. Nassella couldn’t speak. She was too horrified with herself…

“It needs to come out of her,” James said from his corner. When no one said anything he pushed away from the wall. “Someone needs to get it out!” he said, gesturing toward the mages.

“Can you remove it with magic?” Leliana asked more calmly. “What did you try Solas?”

Solas turned his gaze toward the red-headed woman. “I attempted to find a way to separate the metal from flesh, but the scale is too fine. Dorian observed that the difference between the silverite and Naomi’s body is minimal. I believe that is because the silverite has not only attached to her body, but _melded_ with her flesh and bone, as one combines metals to create new alloys. It would take far more concentrated effort, and I’m not certain such effort would be successful.”

“I’m afraid I agree,” Vivienne added. “I have never used magic at such a fine scale. It would be incredibly difficult, and we may not have the time required to devise ways to overcome the strong affinity of the silverite for Naomi’s body.”

Naomi shook her head. “If it’s incorporated into my _cellen_ , at the _moleculair_ level, then I don’t see how even magic could separate them...” She looked around the room, as everyone stared at her with varying degrees of confusion. “And since no one even knows what those are, it makes it even less likely…” she muttered.

Cullen sighed. “Well we can’t cut it out of her, so it will have to be some sort of magic,” he said.

“But we _could_ cut it out,” Naomi said. “A Templar could…”

“No,” Cullen interrupted forcefully. “That is too dangerous…”

“No way,” James said at the same time. “Dammit Naomi, you could die before someone got it out…”

Naomi crossed her arms, glaring between Cullen and James. “Well, right now it’s the only thing we know could work. It doesn’t make sense to dismiss the idea!”

“You’re correct, it could work,” Solas said. “But they are also right, Naomi. Separating you from the Fade for mere moments would be fatal. I would not suggest that as a first course of action, considering the extent of the damage and the scale of such a surgery.”

Naomi adjusted her arms, bringing them closer to her body. “So that’s it? Just play around with magic until someone figures out what to do?”

Solas nodded. “I believe it is safer to be cautious. For the time being, you seem able to handle the amulet’s effects. We can explore ways to manage your symptoms, in addition to seeking a way to remove the metal, before considering more drastic measures.” Nassella could see Naomi chewing the inside of her lip, her brows pulled together as she thought. But she didn’t argue.

“Perhaps if we wrote to Skyhold,” Josephine offered. “Another mage may have some idea of what to do.” Nassella doubted that. Their best mages were already in the room…

“Or Dagna,” Leliana suggested. “She created the amulets in the first place. Perhaps she could devise something that could pierce Naomi’s skin without the intervention of a Templar.” That had more promise, Nassella thought.

“We are days from Skyhold,” Cullen said with a shake of his head. “We may not have the time.”

“Then I suggest we prepare a group to return immediately,” Leliana said. “I have business in Orlais, as does the Inquisitor, but you could return to Skyhold with Naomi. Bring Solas, Vivienne, or Dorian to continue searching for a solution.” Nassella had forgotten that. She planned on leaving immediately for the Emerald Graves. But how could she do that, with Naomi like this…?

Josephine was nodding, moving toward the door. “I will go write letters immediately. With luck, someone in Skyhold will have a solution by the time you return.”

Dorian rubbed a hand along his chin. “I recall seeing a book or two in the library about magical enchantments. Perhaps I could find something useful…”

Everyone was moving, a tentative plan apparently decided. Except, they were no closer to a plan that would actually help Naomi. The only suggestion, to have a Templar remove Naomi’s connection to the Fade entirely, would not only leave her vulnerable to blades, but potentially kill her. And if magic proved to be useless…

“I’m so sorry Naomi,” Nassella said, looking at her friend, begging her to understand. “I didn’t know this would happen. If I hadn’t forgotten… This is my fault…” But Naomi was shaking her head, forgiveness and understanding displayed openly on her face. Naomi didn’t blame her, would never blame her…

Then James broke his silence. “No, this is not your fault Ness,” he seethed. He raised a hand and pointed at Solas. “It’s his.”

Everyone stopped moving.

Solas stood straighter, a tightness settling around his eyes. “I agree no blame should be placed on Nassella, but I see no logical reason to blame me…”

It was the wrong thing to say. James crossed the room to Solas in three long strides, finger still pointing accusingly. “How can you not fucking get it?” James snarled. “Naomi and I are both fade-touched, went through the same things in the Fade. But _she’s_ the only one with a strong enough connection to react with fade-touched objects? _She’s_ the only one who dreams in the Fade?” He laughed, but it lacked any humor. “No, this is fucking _your_ fault,” he accused, pressing his finger into Solas’ shoulder. “You made her like this.” The elf stood straight, face still. But there was a glint of… malice in his gaze that had Nassella tensed, ready to intervene…

“I’m afraid the logic of that accusation is known only to you,” Solas responded.

“You did this!” James yelled. And then he shoved Solas back. Nassella took a step forward but Solas just stepped with the blow, his eyes never leaving James. “You messed with her! From the beginning! She has a stronger connection to the Fade because you went in and messed with her mind! She dreams with demons because of you! A Templar nearly killed her because of you! She reacted with that amulet because of you! If you hadn’t shoved her deeper into the Fade none of this would be happening…!” James was frantic, and he reached to push Solas again…

Solas raised a single hand, glowing with magic...

“Do not touch me again,” the mage said quietly, voice dripping with warning.

Nassella watched as James’ fists clenched, and her stomach flipped. He was going to hit Solas…

She was between them before she could think, hands pulling at James’ raised arms. “Stop it!” she yelled. “Both of you! Fenedhis! This is no way to behave…”

James ripped his arms from her hands, stumbling slightly back. “He needs to fucking admit that this his fault!” he demanded. “Naomi could die because of him!”

“Stop it!” Naomi shouted. She was at James’ side, trying her hand at holding her brother back by the arm. “You’re being ridiculous James. Solas didn’t do this…”

James turned to his sister, and Nassella could see the hurt behind his anger. And there was something else. The flush of his cheeks, the slight glaze to his eyes, the unsteady way he had pulled away from her…

She had been so focused on herself, on Naomi, Nassella hadn’t realized…

“You’re drunk James,” she said. “You just need to calm down…”

His eyes were on her immediately. Still angry. Still hurt. “That has nothing to do with it!” he said. Then he glared back at Solas, taking another step forward. But now Cullen had moved between him and Solas, Naomi still holding her brother back. “He told me! Told me he made Naomi the way she is. It’s almost killed her so many times…” His voice cracked. “Fucking admit you did this!” he yelled at Solas, and Nassella was back to attempting to keep a man at least twice her weight from blowing past her and attacking Solas…

And then he did get past, shoving her unceremoniously to the floor. Shocked, Nassella sat for a moment, processing that James had really treated her so, in his blind anger toward Solas…

Anger that was entirely unwarranted. Solas was blameless in what had happened. _She_ was the only one who had done anything wrong…

“Enough!” she shouted, nearly screamed, standing and rushing to where Cullen had been more successful at keeping James off Solas. “James!”

Something in her voice got through, and James stopped struggling, his eyes dropping to hers. Nassella pointed to the door. “Get out,” she commanded. “Take a walk, take a bath, go to bed… anything. Just get out and sober up. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow morning.”

“But…,” James started to say.

“Now,” Nassella said. “Get. Out. Now.”

The fight left James’ eyes leaving only that hurt, and Nassella felt an aching sense that she had betrayed him in some way…

_No. He is being entirely unreasonable. He’s being violent. There is no excuse for that._

Cullen guided James from the room. Everyone was silent, trying but failing not to stare at Solas, at Nassella, at the door where James had left, at Naomi standing red-faced in the center of the room…

And then Cullen turned away from the door, his hand still on the knob. His eyes fell on Naomi. “What did he mean?” he asked, his voice low, thick.

Naomi pulled on her sleeves, her eyes bouncing from Cullen, to Nassella, to Solas, to the floor… “I… umm…”

“What did he mean?” Cullen repeated, slowly crossing his arms. “That you dream in the Fade. That you dream with… with demons…”

_Oh…_

Nassella knew how Naomi dreamed. Nassella assumed Naomi would have told Cullen as well.

Apparently, she hadn’t.

 

* * *

 

Cullen watched Naomi as she looked everywhere in the room but at him, nervously tugging at the cuffs of her sleeves. He didn’t want to believe what he had heard, didn’t want to think that anything James had said about her dreaming in the Fade, interacting with _demons_ in the Fade, could be true…

But she wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t saying _anything_. He would have preferred an outright denial, a quick assurance that James had been upset, spewing ridiculous notions in his anger toward Solas. Cullen would have preferred _anything_ to what she was doing now.

Naomi was avoiding him, and he could almost see her mind working as her brows pulled together, relaxed, pulled together again, her mouth opening and closing nervously as she tried to decide what to say, as she tried to avoid giving him an answer, even lie to him outright…

It was true. All of it. It had to be, the way she was acting. James said Naomi dreamed with demons, and Cullen knew it was _true._

“Cullen,” Naomi finally managed to whisper. “It’s not… it’s not that bad…”

Anger seared through Cullen, surprising him with its suddenness and intensity. She was still lying to him. After everything that had happened that night, after keeping the effects of the amulet to herself led to it being permanently melded into her body, Naomi was _still_ trying to keep things from him…

“I’d like to speak to Naomi alone,” Cullen said, glancing at the others left in the room.

Josephine nodded and continued out the door. Leliana followed with a last glance toward Naomi.

“Cullen…” Nassella said softly. Solas placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come,” the elf said. “This is for them to discuss alone.” Solas looked toward Dorian. “You as well Dorian.”

When they were alone, Cullen took a deep breath. “Tell me,” he told Naomi.

She crossed her arms, holding them close to her body, and made an attempt to look at him. “Cullen… it’s just… Please, it’s not…”

“Just tell me the truth!” Cullen said. “ _Tell me_ Naomi. What did James mean?”

He didn’t want to know. But he _already_ knew. He just needed to hear it from _her_.

Naomi stared a moment longer at the floor, then took a deep breath. “I dream consciously in the Fade,” she said quietly. “I don’t… have normal dreams. Solas says I’m a Dreamer… a _somniari_ in Tevinter _._ I… can consciously change things while dreaming, and I… encounter spirits…” she trailed off.

“And demons?” Cullen whispered. Naomi nodded, brows pulled together.

“Yes… demons too…”

Cullen stared at Naomi, processing what she had said, what she claimed. Dreamer, _somniari_ … Templars were taught about such mages, warned of the dangers they posed, told to neutralize them if ever discovered. But it had never mattered, because Dreamers were supposed to be extinct. Until meeting Solas, Cullen had thought that true.

And that was because they were vulnerable, far more vulnerable than a typical mage. Demons were attracted to Dreamers like moths to a flame, sought them out, possessed them, killed them…

Cullen’s heart began to race, his stomach twisted with fear. Suddenly he was back in Ferelden’s Circle, picturing every mage that had fallen to possession before him, transformed into abominations that maimed and tortured and killed. He remembered the young woman who had fallen to a demon during his first Harrowing. He’d been the one to strike her down as she transformed, and he still remembered the face of every mage who had failed their Harrowing since that first time, whether he was the one to kill them or not. He thought of Kirkwall, where abominations had roamed the streets…

Never had he imagined this could be Naomi’s fate, that a demon could infiltrate her mind, take over her body, turn her into something even he wouldn’t recognize…

“How many?” he asked.

Naomi frowned. “How many…?”

“Demons?” Cullen specified. “How many demons have you seen in the Fade?”

“I don’t know…”

Cullen looked away from Naomi, blood beginning to pound in his ears. It was so many, she couldn’t even keep track. How many times could she have been lost, torn and twisted by a demon until all trace of her was gone, her body left to host a monster?

He thought of that mage again. Aida had been her name. Cullen would never forget her. He’d had a crush on her, a pretty girl not unlike Naomi, with a rounded face and full lips, brown hair… she’d laughed often he recalled. He knew it was wrong, but he had been drawn to her all the same.

And then they’d gone into that Harrowing Chamber and she had died, by his hands, and he had left knowing it could not happen again. He could not allow himself to develop feelings for someone he might have to kill…

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked. Naomi said nothing, her mouth opening silently as she looked back at him, eyes shining, her brow scrunched. Cullen realized the truth, the ache in his chest growing. “You weren’t going to.”

Naomi covered her face with a hand and took a deep breath. Her eyes were red when she looked back. “I... I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know I would find out?” Cullen demanded. He was angry, betrayal sinking into his stomach, into his heart. He started to feel sick.

“I’ve gotten used to it Cullen, learned to handle it. It… didn’t have to affect anyone else but me…”

Cullen couldn’t believe it, that she could be this naïve. If Naomi was truly a Dreamer, if she entered the Fade and interacted with demons every night as normal mages only did at their Harrowings, she was in more constant danger than any mage he knew, and the consequences if she gave in, even once…

“But it does!” Cullen yelled. “It affects everyone around you! If you let a demon in, it would be the end. You would die. You would be an abomination!”

Naomi pinched her face. “I… I know that Cullen…”

“Do you?” Cullen asked. But he couldn’t look at her. He was too angry. “There would be nothing left of you! You would do nothing but kill and destroy. You would need to be… I would have to…” He couldn’t say it. Someone would have to kill her, and since she shared his bed, the chances were it would be him…

He was going to be sick. The thought of losing her at all left him empty. The thought of being the one to end her life was too much to consider, brought him too close to despair.

“That won’t happen Cullen…”

“Of course it could!” he responded. “No mage thinks they’ll fall to possession until it happens. You can’t control demons…”

“I know, but…”

“Their sole purpose is to find a way to this world, to prey on weak mages until they have control. They find what hurts the most and push and prod until there’s nothing left of yourself…”

“Cullen, please, let me explain…”

“You have no idea the danger you’re in. You’ll never be safe while dreaming. Every time you fall asleep you will be vulnerable to possession…”

“Stop!”

Cullen was snapped back, his eyes drawn to Naomi, standing several feet away in her green gown, her face flushed pink while she looked at him with red eyes and quivering lips. She’d dropped her arms to her sides, hands clenched in fists. “Just stop it!” Naomi shouted, taking a step forward. Cullen took a step back, and the hurt that crossed her face punched Cullen in the gut. He couldn’t breathe. Was he really afraid of her…?

And then she was yelling. “Stop telling me how dangerous it is for me to dream like this!” she said. “I don’t need you to tell me that! You might be a Templar but I know about demons too! I fucking know! I fucking deal with it every night, have dealt with it ever since David died…” Tears started to slip out of her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands, a sob escaping her lips.

Cullen’s hands were shaking, his chest ached. The entire time, from nearly the moment she had found herself in Thedas, Naomi had been like this. He thought back to all the nights they had spent together, the countless times he had woken her from nightmares. All those nights she woke crying from dreams of her dead family, the times he couldn’t wake her as she fought off an unseen attacker… those had been demons, searching for weakness, for something to sink their claws into, use against her and destroy her…

All that time, and she had told him _nothing._

“How could you not tell me?!” He asked. “How could you share my bed without telling me?!”

Naomi lowered her hands and looked at him, and Cullen froze. She was crying in front of him and he didn’t know what to do, any words he might have just out of reach…

And then she was moving, head bowed as she hurried toward the door. She was nearly there before Cullen thought to move, reaching for her arm before she could leave.

“Stop,” he said, gripping her tightly. “Answer me…”

She pulled back, her tear-filled eyes momentarily finding his, and he saw mirrored in her bright green gaze everything he was feeling, anger and betrayal and fear…

“Let me go,” she demanded, quiet fury hardening her voice.

“Naomi…”

“Let me go!” she yelled.

Cullen loosened his grip, surprised by the intensity of her statement, and then she was gone, the door to the room slamming as she ran. Cullen stared at the carved and polished wood, so unlike the rough plank doors decorating Skyhold, unable to believe she was really gone, that she had left without explaining, without telling him why she had kept this from him…

He didn’t know what to feel, couldn’t parse apart the emotions warring in his body. He was so angry, betrayed because she hadn’t told him. He was afraid for Naomi and for himself because of what could happen if she gave in to a demon. And when he thought about her crying, a knot of nausea and pain coiled tighter in his stomach, knowing she was upset because of him, crying because of him…

How had it come to this? How had this happened? He couldn’t remember the last time they had fought, knew they had never fought like _this_.

_I did this…_ he realized as he thought back over their conversation, over their fight. He had wanted to talk privately so he could get to the bottom of the entire mess, hear from her without distraction what James had meant when he said she _dreams with demons…_

And he hadn’t let her explain. He had let his anger and sense of betrayal overtake him, let himself fall into a spiral of fear and worst case scenarios, yelled at Naomi and accused her of misleading him…

All after a night that had already been filled with pain and fear. Her eyes were _green_ when she looked at him, green because there was fade-touched silverite stuck in her body, hurting her…

Cullen moved across the room and sat in a chair. His head was pounding as he leaned to hold it in his hands. His anger was fading, but he still didn’t know what to do. Naomi had still lied to him, kept a part of herself hidden that was potentially more dangerous, more harmful than anything he could imagine. How could someone who said she loved him keep this to herself?

The door clicked, and Cullen looked up to see Nassella poking her head back into the room, still wearing her blood-spattered gown. “Cullen?” she whispered, slipping into the room. “What happened? Naomi wouldn’t talk to me…”

What happened? Cullen bowed his head again. “I yelled at her,” he admitted, voice thick. “I yelled at her, I wouldn’t listen to her…” The hem of charcoal skirts crossed his line of sight, a bare foot peaking from beneath the shear fabric. A hand was placed on his shoulder.

“I know, I could hear. But it’s all right Cullen. I know it must have been a shock to learn this.” A shock. Cullen was still shaking from the memories…

“How can this be possible?” he asked. “How can she dream with demons?” Nassella knelt in front of him, and he lifted his eyes to meet Nassella’s green ones, a far more natural color than Naomi’s.

“Cullen, you need to talk to her about this, now that you’re calmer… but it’s not as bad as you think…”

“How can you say that?!” Cullen asked. “I can’t think of anything worse…”

“Cullen,” Nassella repeated, the tone of her voice quietly commanding him to silence. “If this was going to kill her, it would have happened back in Haven, when she was alone and grieving and afraid. But it didn’t. And I know it’s easy to focus on the demons, after what you’ve been taught, after what has happened to you… but you need to look past that. Most of the time she is alone when she dreams. Trust me when I say it is not as bad as you think.”

Cullen shook his head. “It’s not that simple Inquisitor. She will always be in danger.”

“All of us are always in danger, Cullen.”

Cullen swallowed. Yes, they were always in danger, but this was still different…

“She’s told you all of this?” he asked.

Nassella shrugged. “Probably not everything, but enough.” The ache in his chest was nearly unbearable.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

Nassella sighed. “I don’t know, I assumed she had. You’d have to ask her.”

That meant finding Naomi, who had left him angry and in tears... “I made her cry,” Cullen whispered.

“And you’ll probably do it again.”

Cullen frowned. “How can you say that…?”

“Because you care about each other. You _love_ each other, and that means you can _hurt_ each other. But you’ll get past this. You have to. I’ve seen how happy you are with each other.”

Cullen didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. “She lied to me,” he said. “She slept next to me without telling me… how could she do that? How can I get past that…?” He stopped, throat aching. What was he saying…?

Nassella studied him a moment, then stood and took a step back, crossing her arms. “Cullen,” she said carefully. “Are you going to leave her because of this?”

Everything stilled. Cullen looked back at Nassella, at the Inquisitor, but saw nothing. He thought of ending their relationship now… of losing everything they had built, everything he imagined for their future. The thought frightened him, emptied him, and it didn’t matter that he was angry, hurt, betrayed… because imagining his life without Naomi was worse…

But staying with Naomi meant sleeping next to a woman who spoke with demons in her dreams, wrestled against their temptations. If she should give in, even once, he would lose her in the most violent way he knew, and _he_ would have to take the necessary actions against what she became…

He didn’t know if he could handle that, if he could bear that pain. It would destroy him…

“I don’t know,” he croaked.

Nassella sighed, and ran a hand across her face. “All right. That’s… up to you. And you can be angry and upset, but…” She took a step closer. “You need to _talk_ to her Cullen. _Really_ talk to her. It doesn’t have to be tonight, but she _cannot_ be alone right now. So… are you going to find her, or am I?”


	89. Alone

James slammed the door as he exited the mansion through a small access somewhere near the kitchens, startling a pair of elves as he did. He ignored their surprised yelps, moving as far away from the building as quickly as he could, shivering slightly as he walked, the air cool as the night reached its deepest hours. It felt good against his skin, made uncomfortably warm from the combined influence of the alcohol he’d consumed, his embarrassment of being kicked out by Nassella, and the anger he felt toward everyone he’d left behind.

Except, most of that anger was directed toward Solas. James could be upset that Naomi had kept the amulet to herself, upset that she hadn’t told him right away exactly what had happened to her… but none of it would have happened if it weren’t for Solas.

And he wouldn’t admit it. Solas fucking wouldn’t admit that this was happening to Naomi because of him…

And no one else saw it either. Not even Naomi.

James should have known Nassella wouldn’t see it. How could she? But she could have at least listened. Any of them could have listened.

He reached a row of trees, boots crushing fallen fruit as he moved beneath the shadowed canopy. He kicked a few fruits away at the base of the trunk so he could sit comfortably on the ground against the smooth bark. He leaned his head back and stared at the mansion. It was late, well past the time when lights should have been extinguished, but candles still glowed from a number of windows, figures occasionally throwing flickering shadows as members of the Inquisition’s party prepared for bed. James’ face and body were buzzing from the wine, his thoughts jumping erratically from Naomi and the amulet, the fear he had seen her trying to hide behind the glowing green of her eyes, Solas’ calm explanations of what was going to happen to his sister, that no one knew what to do, the guilt displayed on Nassella’s face, Solas’ denial of any wrongdoing, Nassella pulling on him, shouting at him, refusing to believe that James could be right, then telling him to leave…

He’d left her in tears the night before, and now she had yelled at him, been angrier than any time he could remember. She said she didn’t want to see him the rest of the night.... what if she wanted to stop seeing him altogether?

James took a deep breath, nose filled with the clean scent of fresh dew and the sweet stench of rotting fruit. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled, shouldn’t have gotten so angry, but he couldn’t stand to sit in that room and let Nassella blame herself for Naomi’s injury while Solas stood there and talked about Naomi dying, denying that he could potentially have had something to do with it.

James hardly knew anything about magic, but he was convinced Naomi’s troubles were because of Solas. The influence of Solas in their minds was the only thing that differed between James and his sister. The demons had worried James enough, but Naomi had found a way to manage that. This amulet though… it was different, and it was still Solas’ fault.

James stared at the mansion, eyes starting to water. He was scared. Once again, Naomi was in danger, and he struggled to see how anything could help her. He certainly had nothing to contribute, no magic or expertise that would allow him to take the silverite out of her and save her…

James didn’t know what he would do if he lost her. They didn’t spend enough time together, he thought, with the amount of travelling he did and the time Naomi spent seeing Cullen. But she was still _there_ , ready to talk, share a meal, remind him of the life they had left behind. She was the _one_ person he knew he could count on.

If Naomi died because of this, James realized he would lose more than just her. He would never forgive Solas… didn’t think he was going to forgive the elf anyway, considering the damage that had already happened. But if James lost Naomi because of this, he wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of Solas, much less work or fight with him.

And if Nassella refused to see the truth, James didn’t know if he would forgive her either. He would rather leave the Inquisition to find his own way than be reminded of anyone who had failed his sister…

“No one has failed her,” a soft voice whispered. “Not yet.”

“Fuck Cole!” James exclaimed, jumping slightly. The spirit crouched a few feet away, inspecting a fallen apple. “I really hate it when you do that.”

Cole glanced up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to sneak up on you.”

“Well, try harder.”

Cole nodded. “I will.”

James crossed his arms, watching Cole turn the fruit in a new direction. “I kind of want to be alone right now,” he told the spirit.

“No you don’t. You want to help, but you think you can’t. That’s why you yelled. It was the only thing you could do.” James glared at the spirit, but Cole just kept talking. “Yelling is easier than being afraid. But she doesn’t like it when you yell. Yelling doesn’t change what happened.”

“Cole, stop listening in on people…”

“You wish it was you, so she wouldn’t have to face the demons. You think he did it on purpose, but he was trying to help. You weren’t supposed to be brought here when he used the orb, and the little one was dying. He thought he could help, save one life. But he failed, and then she broke free when he was gone. He thought she would die, but she didn’t, and he taught her to keep her safe…”

James frowned, trying to follow Cole’s ramblings, but the spirits tendency to avoid proper names made it difficult, and James wasn’t sure when he was talking about Solas or himself or Naomi…

“Solas still did this,” James said. “Even if he didn’t mean to. She still has to face demons every night because of what he did.”

“Not every night,” Cole whispered. “She can’t remember the last time there was a demon, though she fears tonight it will change. Usually it is just serenity and the grass…” Cole collected a second fruit. “She likes the Fade now. It’s like home there. But now it will just remind her that she failed him…”

James shook his head. “Cole, seriously, that’s not cool...”

“ _M_ y _fault, my fault. I didn’t say because it would hurt, but not saying hurt more…_ ”

“Cole…”

“Too much, too much. Words breaking and beating and bashing, too fast to follow. She wants to explain, ease his fears, but he just yells and yells and yells…”

James listened to Cole, unease building in his stomach. He didn’t particularly like talking to Cole, but when they _did_ talk, the spirit usually had something important to say, and he was certain Cole was talking about Naomi.

“She doesn’t want to yell, but he’s too loud. _Why didn’t she say? Why didn’t she stay…?_ ” Cole trailed off mid-thought, returning to manipulating the fruit in his hands.

“Cole, who was that?” James asked.

“Naomi wants to be alone,” Cole responded. “Too much has happened, too much has gone wrong. Fear and anger and hurt all wrapped up, knotting in her chest. It hurts more than the metal…”

James hauled himself to his feet, swaying slightly as his body adjusted to the new height. If someone was fighting with Naomi, he needed to be there…

“Yes,” Cole said, rising to his own feet. “She wants to be alone but you could help.”

“Where is she?” James asked.

“Make sure you listen,” Cole said instead. “And don’t yell.”

The spirit disappeared and James let out a frustrated grunt. “Cole!” he yelled into the night, turning in vain to find him. “That’s not helping!”

James began walking, back toward the mansion, wondering why Cole bothered at all. The spirit nearly always left out half of what was needed to fully understand his comments. He would be so much more helpful if he just _said_ everything he meant…

Then James saw movement, a sliver of light as a door opened and closed in the dark, a shadow crossing the distance between the main house and the cluster of outbuildings, disappearing into the stables. A shadow wearing long sweeping skirts.

For once, Cole had said enough.

 

* * *

 

Naomi hurried into the stables, rubbing at her eyes every other step, surprised she had been able to find her way this far without falling over her skirts or breaking down entirely in some dark hallway. The night was chilly, and the warm air in the stables, combined with the earthy scents of hay and horse and manure, wrapped around Naomi like a blanket. Several snorts drifted from the stalls she passed as horses were disturbed from their rest, her skirts dragging through the loose hay and dust littering the ground.

But even with the comforting familiarity of the stables, Naomi felt like she was falling apart. So much of the night had been a disaster. There was fade-touched silverite embedded in her body, incorporated into her very cells, and she was terrified after learning no one knew what to do, that it would stay in her, potentially killing her. Then James had turned on Solas, _fought_ with him…

And Cullen had found out about her dreams.

Naomi found Liberty in the back wing where the Inquisition’s horses were being kept. The mare appeared after a soft call, nudging her nose into Naomi’s outstretched hand. As Naomi rubbed her hand along the velvet fur of Liberty’s snout, Naomi realized she was shaking, her entire body coursing with adrenaline left from her fight with Cullen, nausea turning slowly in her stomach. It was still a blur, everything that had happened, everything he had said. All she knew was that he was angry, betrayed, and that it was entirely her fault…

_No. He didn’t need to yell like that…_

But she discarded the thought immediately, the anger from her own outburst quickly fading. She’d been overwhelmed as Cullen reminded her of everything she found terrifying about the Fade, yelled in return because he wouldn’t stop. But she couldn’t stay angry with Cullen over this. _She_ was the one who had kept the truth from him. _She_ was the one who had made the mistake…

The tenuous control she had held over her tears slipped, and before she could stop she was sobbing, clinging to Liberty as she emptied everything into the mare’s spotted neck. For a moment, nothing mattered but crying, thoughts lost in the swirling storm of anxiety and hurt and anger that had been building the entire night. It was easier to cry, just like it was easier to run away…

But eventually, crying wasn’t enough, and Naomi had to think about everything she had done, everything she hadn’t. Cullen had been livid, horrified by how she dreamed, and the more clearly she began to think, the more she realized just _how much_ he had been hurt by her omission.

Naomi leaned her forehead against Liberty’s neck, breathing heavily while she tried to stop crying. She had never felt so guilty in her life. She trusted Cullen above anyone, and she’d repaid him by betraying his. He may have come to terms with the way she dreamed, but only if the truth had come from _her_ , from the beginning. Now it looked like she had tried to hide it from him…

And she had. She’d tried to hide how she dreamed.

She wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive her.

“I messed up,” she whispered into Liberty’s hide. “I ruined everything.”

Her chest ached and her throat burned as she held back more tears. She didn’t know how she could fix this, how she could repair the damage she had done. She knew she needed to talk to Cullen again… even if she could avoid seeing him, it wouldn’t be right to do so. But she balked at the thought, couldn’t stand to see that mix of anger, betrayal, and fear directed toward her again…

It was what she had done for as long as she could remember, avoid subjects that could cause her pain, keep things buried deep inside where only she would ever have to face them. It was a part of herself she had worked to change, _pushed_ to change because of Cullen, so she could _be_ with Cullen. But she hadn’t changed enough, had still kept her secrets, and now he was going to leave her.

Liberty snorted and Naomi moved to hold her horses face, but looking at the mare reminded her that Cullen had given her Liberty, so she would have at least one possession in this world…

“I should have told him,” she murmured as she rubbed the soft, warm fur of Liberty’s nose, a few loose tears slipping out of her eyes. “How could I think it was ok not to?” _How could I do this to someone I love…?_

Liberty brought her head closer, her nose pushing into the crook of Naomi’s neck, then brushed lower, exhaling warm air across Naomi’s skin, nipping gently over the amulet fixed to her chest. It sent a shock through Naomi, and she sank to the ground as her head began to spin, her stomach heaving…

She leaned against the wall to Liberty’s stall, running her hand over the metal embedded in her flesh. There was a much larger problem for her to deal with, and now she might have to do it alone…

_No, I won’t be alone. But it won’t be the same…_

The metal was vibrating, warm, and Naomi’s head was not only spinning but starting to ache. The sudden turn startled her, and she sat, hoping the discomfort would fade so she could move, realizing just how exhausted she was from the night’s events. She remembered the burning from earlier that night, and hoped the amulet wasn’t building up to do something similar again…

“Naomi?! Where are you?!”

Naomi jumped, turning to look toward the stable’s entrance. A dark figure was moving her way, and she blinked away the lingering water in her eyes as James appeared from the darkness.

“James?” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Ik zag je naar binnen lopen,” he responded. The English confused Naomi, until she realized she had been the first to drop into their native language. “What happened? Is the amulet hurting?” James continued in English. He knelt by her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

Naomi nodded. “It started to feel uncomfortable. I’m waiting for it to pass.”

James sat next to her. “What if it doesn’t? You shouldn’t be out here alone…” His dark brows pulled together. “Why _are_ you out here alone?”

Naomi slowly rolled a portion of the fabric of her skirts between her fingers. She didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to admit her mistake. But she _had_ to talk eventually, and James was her brother, and seemed to have calmed since his earlier outburst. She hoped he would stay so calm when she told him what had happened after he left.

“Cullen didn’t know how I dream,” she finally whispered. “He didn’t know about the demons. He… got really upset.”

James was silent for a moment. “You didn’t tell him?” he asked eventually. Naomi could hear the disbelief, the hint of accusation…

“No,” she mumbled.

James sighed, and she watched him rub at his face from the corner of her eye. “Come on Naomi…” As if it was the most obvious thing she could have done.

Another wave of guilt swept through Naomi, and she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her aching head against her arms. “I can have secrets James,” she said, weakly trying to explain herself. “I don’t have to tell everyone everything about me.”

James let out a long breath. “I just figured you would tell him something like this.”

Naomi didn’t respond, tears gathering again behind her eyes. It _was_ obvious. She should have told Cullen the moment she realized he didn’t know.

“Well… I’m sure Cullen will get over it,” James said eventually. “Just apologize for keeping this from him…”

Naomi swallowed. It was so much more than that…

“It’s not that simple,” she whispered. “He’s a Templar. Things have… happened to him in the past that involve mages and demons… This was important for him to know and I… I knew he would freak out when he did find out. It’s not just that I kept it from him… it’s the fact that I dream like this at all…” She covered her mouth and took several deep breaths. She would not start crying again. “I messed everything up by not telling him, and I… I wouldn’t be surprised if he leaves me…”

“Are you serious?” James asked angrily. “No… that’s not going to happen,” he continued. “He can’t! Cullen can’t blame you for this. Solas is the one who…”

“Stop blaming Solas!” Naomi interrupted, looking up to glare at her brother. “He helped me escape my dreams _one_ time, to try and save David. So you cannot blame him for that!” She took a deep breath. “Everything after that was _me_ , so just… stop picking fights with him…”

James’ shoulders slumped slightly, and his look took on more a cast of confusion than anger. “I… didn’t realize…”

Naomi reached to put a hand on James’ knee. “Please stop fighting with Solas over this. He didn’t do this to me. In fact, he’s the one who’s _helped_ me learn to live with this.”

For a moment, they were silent, and Naomi started to think she was feeling better.

“I’ll apologize tomorrow morning,” James said quietly. “I was just… upset earlier…”

“That’s good,” Naomi whispered. At least James could have a chance at mending his injured relationships. She wasn’t sure she would be so lucky…

“I’m… sorry I told him,” James added. “I didn’t realize it was supposed to be a secret.”

Naomi shook her head. She’d all but forgotten how Cullen found out in the first place. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice shaky. “He… he would have found out eventually.”

“I’m going to talk to him,” James grumbled. “No one else freaked out about the Fade thing like that. He shouldn’t either.”

“It’s not that simple James…”

“Well what’s he worried about?” James asked.

Naomi stared across the darkened stable corridor. “The potential for demonic possession…” Cullen had been very clear about what he found so upsetting about her dreams.

James shifted, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I know he’s worried about that… but, I mean, it’s not going to happen… It… it hasn’t yet, right? So you can handle it? And it’s not like other mages are always getting possessed… and Solas dreams like you and hasn’t…”

Naomi chewed on the inside of her lip, frowning. It was what she had wanted to explain, earlier, when Cullen was yelling at her, that yes, she encountered demons, but she had done everything she could to keep herself safe, that more often than not the Fade was empty save for what she created herself. James was right… she didn’t think she would ever get possessed.

But at this point, she didn’t see how that mattered, because she hadn’t told Cullen sooner.

“That’s sweet James, but… _I_ need to talk to him, not you.”

“Fine,” James said, pulling her closer. “But you don’t fucking need him. You’ve always been fine on your own. You’ve travelled to other countries alone, you’ve moved and lived by yourself…”

Naomi leaned into James body. She knew he was trying to make her feel better, reminding her of the years she had spent alone, travelling abroad by herself, moving to new cities on her own for school, living alone and planning a future with just herself…

Yes, she had been fine on her own. Happy on her own. But she had never intended to live her entire life alone, never wanted to. And she wasn’t alone with Cullen. So many times he had been the one to _remind_ her that she wasn’t alone in this new world, made her think she would never have to be alone again.

And as much as Naomi loved James, as much as she appreciated he had found her, that he was there to listen and defend and talk… she wished it was Cullen holding her. She nearly started crying, realizing that he might never hold her again.

But James was right. She’d been alone before…

“I know I don’t need him,” she whispered, closing her eyes to hold back more tears. “But I… love him James. I _want_ him…”

“Yeah, I know,” James murmured.

She still felt slightly dizzy, so Naomi leaned further into James, comforted in knowing that _he_ would always love her, no matter what…

“I love you James,” she said, making sure he knew she felt the same. Her eyes were growing heavy, her mind and body exhausted after the taxing day, and she wished sleeping would free her from having to think, at least for a few hours.

“Me too.” Then James sighed. “We should go inside.”

“Not yet,” Naomi mumbled with a shake of her head. She had started to feel relaxed for the first time in hours, and if she escaped to the Fade, she could at least escape her headache…

And then James tensed, jarring her back. “Someone’s coming,” he said. Naomi blinked, noticing a soft glow moving through the stable, growing uncomfortably bright as the person holding the candle moved into their wing. But as her eyes adjusted to the increased light, she sat up, her heart immediately starting to race, because the man holding the candle had golden hair…

“Thank the Maker,” Cullen said breathlessly, hurrying toward Naomi and her brother. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik zag je naar binnen lopen = I saw you run in


	90. Together

Cullen was worried, had been worried since nearly the moment he began his search. He had gone to every room he thought Naomi may have fled to, starting in their bedroom, moving on to the library, searching every sitting room he could find, including the unused storage room where he’d had her perched on a table just two days before, gasping and moaning while he moved inside of her…

What he would give to go back to that night, before the ball, before the amulet, before learning of her dreams. Two nights ago he had not thought he might lose her.

He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and turned from the room and its memories, gripping the candle in his hand tighter. He still didn’t know what he would do. Nassella had said if Naomi’s dreams were going to kill her, they would have already. He wanted to believe Naomi wasn’t in danger, that he would not be forced to take action against her…

But he could not stop thinking about Ferelden’s Circle. He had lost so much when it fell, friends, colleagues, nearly every person he had ever known. He had lost himself for years. Only recently had he found his way back, remembered why he had become a Templar at all, what it meant to help people. And Naomi was a part of that, showing him that losing everything didn’t mean losing hope for happiness, for a future. He could not have come this far without her.

After searching the kitchens, Cullen was more than just worried. Naomi was nowhere, and short of searching every room in the mansion, he did not know where to look next. He was starting to get scared, imagined her in some dark corner, the amulet’s unpredictable magic leaving her incapacitated, sick and unable to move or seek help…

And then he saw a door, slightly ajar, revealing a hint of dark sky, stars blinking against deep blue. He moved quickly, knowing where he would find her, where he hoped to find her. Naomi had always found comfort out of doors, and if not under the open sky, Liberty was only a few feet away in the stables.

If she wasn’t there, he would be at a loss, and forced to return to Nassella for aid, to rouse others from their sleep. Naomi could not be left alone in her state…

Several horses were awake and greeted Cullen with soft neighs and snorts as he moved through the dusty interior. It was a good sign, Cullen thought, and a pressure that had been building in his chest relaxed when he heard soft voices from deep in the stable’s interior, two figures huddled on the ground next to Liberty’s stall.

“Thank the Maker,” he said, rushing forward, the light from the candle in his hand revealing Naomi clutching her knees on the ground, James crouched larger next to her. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you…”

And then James was on his feet, standing between Cullen and Naomi with his arms crossed.

“What do you want?” James asked. Cullen could hear the warning in the growl of his voice, and he had no doubt that James would fight if he thought his sister would be hurt again. More than once Cullen had seen how James would not hesitate when it came to defending Naomi, but had never thought to find himself on the receiving end of James’ ire. He had promised only hours before to never break his sister’s heart.

“I wanted to be sure Naomi was all right,” Cullen responded. “She shouldn’t be alone.”

“I know,” James said shortly. “That’s why I’m here. So you can just leave, before you decide to yell or make her cry again.”

“I didn’t mean…” Cullen started to say, but he was interrupted by James, the other man frowning deeply.

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean to. You did, so just give her some space…”

“James, it’s all right,” Naomi said softly. Cullen glanced around James to see Naomi now standing just behind her brother, her own arms crossed over her stomach. “I told you I needed to talk to him.”

“Yeah, but it could wait ‘til tomorrow,” James grumbled over his shoulder.

Cullen watched Naomi, caught her looking at him before averting her eyes toward James. She was frowning, tired, and he could see the smudges of kohl around her eyes from wiping away tears. Tears he had caused…

But she was still so beautiful, and he couldn’t help but drop his eyes to the curves of her body, so perfectly displayed by the cut of her dress and plunging neckline. She adjusted her arms, pushing up her breasts slightly, and his eyes fell on the metal centered above the line of her cleavage. Metal that might kill her.

He looked back to her face, where her eyes were once more fixed on him. Bright green eyes that shone with more than just the reflection from the candle grasped in his hand, the one part of her that physically displayed the Fade-magic moving through her body.

Every fiber in his body wanted to be next to her, holding her. He knew she was scared because of that amulet, and he wanted to pull her into his arms, tell her everything would be all right, that he would protect her.

But a part of him hesitated, and he hated it. Hated that the idea of her meeting demons while she dreamed sent a cold wave of fear through him, made his heart race. He _shouldn’t_ be afraid of her. She was gentle and kind and he loved her…

And he could also see in her eyes her hurt, her wariness. _She_ didn’t trust that he wouldn’t yell again, didn’t trust that he wouldn’t make her cry. He couldn’t go to her, even if James wasn’t currently standing between them.

Cullen regretted everything he had done, everything he had said. He _loved_ her, and he had pushed her away when she needed him…

He needed to fix it, make her see that he wasn’t here to argue. He didn’t want to lose her, couldn’t stand the thought.

“I’m sorry, Naomi,” he said, wanting to step forward but deterred by James. He contented himself with just looking at her. “I reacted badly earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Her brow smoothed slightly, her lips parted. She started to lower her arms, but then raised them again, holding them even closer to her body. She cleared her throat. “Well… it’s all right…” she said.

Cullen shook his head. “No. It wasn’t. And I’d… like to talk. Again.”

She hesitated, and Cullen feared she would say no, turn him away. But then she nodded, and more tension eased from his shoulders. “James, could you leave us alone?”

James glared at Cullen. “Fine. But come to my room if you need to.” Cullen thought of that while the taller man left, brushing his shoulder against Cullen’s. He and Naomi shared a room, and Cullen wanted them to return there together, to crawl under the blankets and wrap his arms around her warm body, kiss her and love her…

But then he thought of her sleeping, and the demons she would encounter, and his heart started to race. He wished he could control his thoughts, the memories, but they were always there. Had been there for so long…

They were alone, and Naomi cleared her throat again. “I want to apologize too Cullen,” she said quietly. “I… should have told you about this sooner… I… wasn’t trying to hurt you. I hope you know that…”

“Of course I know that,” Cullen said. He didn’t think Naomi would ever purposefully hurt anyone. “I just wish I had known, from the beginning.”

She nodded, shifting her weight. “I can… tell you now, if you want…”

Cullen took a deep breath. He didn’t want to hear this, but he needed to. He hadn’t listened before, and he needed to know. Needed to know just how much danger she was in, just how much she had already faced. “Yes, that would be good.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground and shifted slightly on her feet. “Well… it started slowly. Umm, when David was sick, Solas came for my help to find him in the Fade…”

Cullen frowned. “So James was right? Solas did do this?” He should have known James had a legitimate reason to be angry with Solas. Cullen had always known the elf had a different relationship to the Fade, that he could visit other’s dreams. It was how they had been able to learn about where James and Naomi were from in the first place. Cullen had accepted that about Solas, something in the mage’s demeanor convincing Cullen that he would not fall to a demon’s wiles. He was too much like them. But if Cullen found out Solas had done this to Naomi…

“No. No,” Naomi said, looking back up. “The first time, yes, he guided me from my dream. But he only did it so we could try and find David, to bring him back…” She stopped and covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. Cullen felt another urge to hold her. Then she sniffed and lowered her hand. “Um, after he died, I… ended up back in the Fade again to try and find him. I searched for… well days I guess, but it didn’t work…”

“When you were sick?”

“Yes,” Naomi whispered. “I talked to a spirit then… or it might have been a demon. But Solas found me and sent me back.”

Cullen couldn’t believe it. Those days she had lay dying in the healer’s tent, she had been in the Fade. “You nearly died Naomi,” Cullen said. “How can you say dreaming like this isn’t that bad?”

She looked back to the ground. “Well, I guess it was bad, in the beginning. But it’s better now…”

“How can it be better?”

“I learned to fight,” she responded.

“Fight?” Cullen said. “You learned to fight because of this?”

She nodded. “Back in Haven, dreaming in the Fade was spotty. It only happened when I was really upset…”

“Like when?”

She blinked. “Um, well, there was… the time Alec was drunk and pinned me to a wall, and tried to get me to... That night there was a demon that showed what my cousin did and tried to… possess me I guess.”

Cullen didn’t know what to say. In all of his anger, in worrying about demons, he hadn’t actually considered what _exactly_ she might be shown, what those demons could use against her.

“But it got worse after the Templars attacked Haven. I don’t know if maybe there were more demons after that, or if it was getting hurt, or seeing… Jaron die…” She sniffed, shaking her head. “But every time I slept after that, there was a demon showing me everyone dying…” She wiped at her eyes. “I could take that though. I knew the images weren’t real, even if they looked it. But then one night in Skyhold a demon showed up looking like Alec, and tried to… to force me…”

She was shaking, swaying on her feet, and Cullen couldn’t stand to be apart from her any longer. Despite her insistence that dreaming in this way was not ‘that bad’, she was upset and had been hurting because of this for months…

He blew out the candle, discarding it on the stable floor, and stepped forward to pull her into an embrace, sighing in relief when her arms slipped around his in return. She was sobbing, growing heavier in his arms with each passing second, and soon he lowered them to the floor so she could lean against him and cry without fear of falling. He never wanted to see her crying, but there was always a soft warmth in his chest when he held her while she did, because he was the one she turned to, and he believed he helped by being there. After a moment she quieted, and pulled back to wipe at her face. “I’m sorry I keep crying…”

“No, don’t be sorry for that,” Cullen said. “But this… clearly isn’t all right Naomi…”

“I know!’ she exclaimed, pulling away and curling around her knees. “I never know when I’ll go to sleep and see my dead family, or a demon will grab my breasts and try to rape me. So many nights I couldn’t sleep because I was too afraid, and even though I’ve learned to fight they still show up, and I kill them, but they look like people, so I just feel like I’m killing people…” She took a deep breath. “And I know that if I slip up, I’ll… I’ll die, and I can’t avoid it, because I have to sleep…”

It was just as Cullen had feared. She was targeted, constantly in danger…

“The Fade is dangerous,” Cullen said. “Demons know what they can use against you.”

Naomi sniffed, frowning while she stared across the stable. “But it’s not just that,” she whispered. “I… I’ve been able to learn how to fight because I can practice in the Fade. And… and a spirit showed me my family once, and I got to say goodbye to them. And I can _change_ things while I’m there. I can recreate home, recreate the grasslands I always wanted to work with. There’s… there’s the demons, but there’s also spirits, and they’re gentle and interesting. Dreaming there is mostly like being awake, only strange and different and… beautiful…”

Her change in demeanor surprised Cullen. She didn’t sound afraid, or upset. She was…excited, passion leaking into her voice as she tried to convince him that what she had to say was important. It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t understand, Naomi. Do you… like dreaming like this?”

She lifted her head and turned toward him. “Not at first, and there are times when I still don’t like it. But now… It’s better than it was Cullen. Most nights… I do enjoy it.”

Cullen shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. With what you’ve just told me, you can’t enjoy this…”

“I don’t see demons every night Cullen. And I’ve gotten used to it. It’s how I dream. I had to find a way to like it, to not let it destroy me. Yes, it’s scary sometimes, but most nights it’s... not. And sometimes I… look forward to sleeping…”

Cullen stared at Naomi, frowning. He still couldn’t understand how she could like the Fade, after everything she said had happened there. How she could w _ant_ to be there…?

But it was like her, to find something good in something horrible, in something that hurt. She faced demons that showed her death, assaulted her, and she still found a way to say she could enjoy her dreams. He remembered sleeping next to her after Adamant and waking her from nightmares, doing so in Skyhold multiple nights… she had been facing demons, grappling for her life. For months she had been doing the same, always alone…

“How can you fight off these demons?” he asked. “How are you…?” He looked into her eyes. How could she be alive, how could she still be her?

Naomi took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll fight them, kill them if they try to touch me. But I’ll wake up, usually, to avoid them. And I… I know that they’re demons, so as long as I don’t give them what they want, or accept anything, they can’t hurt me. Isn’t that what mages are taught in the Circles?”

Cullen nodded, wanted to believe it was enough. But he had seen too many abominations to fully accept that. “It doesn’t always work,” he said quietly. “You could still let a demon in. It would change you…”

Naomi frowned. “Do you really think that?” she asked, an edge to her voice. “Do you think I would give in to a demon? Do you think I would ever take anything a demon offers? Are you afraid Dorian will give in to a demon? Or Vivienne? Or Solas? Why would you think I would be different? Most mages never become abominations, and they aren’t even aware they’re dreaming most of the time! They don’t realize what could be happening! But I _do_ know I’m dreaming! I would never… never take anything from a demon.” She looked away, wiping at her eyes a few more times. “I would _die_ before I let that happen.”

Cullen’s throat ached. He was afraid, but he knew she was right. He couldn’t believe she would actually give in to a demon. But she could still die…

“No, I… don’t believe that,” he said softly. She nodded.

“Good.”

For a moment they were silent. Naomi had pulled away from Cullen, space now between their bodies. Somehow he had pushed her away again. He wanted to change that, pull her into his arms for good, promise to never hurt her again.

But he hesitated. His apprehension over her dreams was fading, but it did not change the fact that she had lied to him, had kept something important, something that hurt her, that could hurt him, to herself. So much happened to her while she dreamed, and she never said a word…

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

Naomi stared at her hands, picking at a fingernail. “I didn’t know how,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know until after we’d had sex, and I didn’t want you to think I had kept this from you because of… of that.” She took a deep breath. “Obviously… that’s what ended up happening…” She leaned her head against her knees. “It was selfish,” she said. “I know it was selfish. I was just… so afraid of how you would react, I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me, and I… I couldn’t lose you…” She was crying again. “I didn’t want to lose another person…”

Cullen felt like a fist was squeezing his heart. She had been afraid. Of him. Of how he would react, and he had done exactly what she feared. He had been angry, and yelled, and made her believe he would leave her…

“And I know if I had told you sooner, on my own, maybe this wouldn’t be happening,” she continued. “I messed everything up, and… and I’m so sorry Cullen. I never wanted to lie to you, or make you feel like I… deceived you. I was just scared and… it was a mistake…”

Cullen swallowed the lump in his throat. “I understand,” he said softly. “I… I’m not angry. I just wish you had told me.”

“I know, me too,” Naomi said miserably. “And Cullen, I… I can do better. I’ll tell you these sorts of things… I never wanted to lie…” She looked up with a sniff, rubbing a hand across her cheek. “But I… I can’t change how I dream,” she croaked. “I can’t… can’t change this about myself. So if… if you can’t… can’t, um, be with someone like me, then I’ll understand…”

Everything stilled again, just like when Nassella had asked if he would leave Naomi. Cullen hadn’t known then, had still been mired in thoughts of losing her to demons, still reeling from the shock of learning this about her, in that way. But hearing Naomi suggest the same, tell him she would understand if he left, because of how she dreamed…

It was no longer unclear. He had gone through too much, lost too much, to turn away from this woman who had made him happy after years of anger and pain. And he wouldn’t hurt her like this, couldn’t walk away because of something she couldn’t control, something that had hurt and frightened her for so long. She couldn’t change, but he could. Fear of demons had robbed him of years of his life, years of happiness. He would not let that fear continue, would not let the Fade dictate how he reacted to Naomi, or anyone else for that matter. That was not the person he was, the person he wanted to be…

“No,” he said, reaching for her hand, heart racing, his body no longer still, or wanting to be still. She had to know he loved her, that _nothing_ had changed that. “That’s not happening. I’m not losing you because of this.”

 

* * *

 

Naomi gripped Cullen’s hand, her entire body vibrating, buzzing and twisting with adrenaline. She had been so nervous to see him, more nervous than she had been in months around him. And then she had rambled, finally admitted to him everything she had wanted to tell him… terrified that he would yell again…

But he hadn’t, had instead come forward to hold her while she cried, just like she had grown to love, to rely on, to need…

He had actually listened to her, and though he had still seemed nervous, she had the chance to explain, to apologize…

But she had never been sure it would be enough. She had hurt him, and there were parts of her she knew he may never be able to accept…

Except he said he would, said he wasn’t going to leave her because of this. He was holding her hand, leaning toward her, looking at her like he wanted her…

“Really?” she asked, and she wished she didn’t sound so desperate. But she had been desperate, so sure it was the end…

Cullen nodded, reaching for her face with his other hand. “Of course,” he said, voice low, breathless. “I love you. This doesn’t change that. This… is my fault, I’m the one who got angry when I shouldn’t have. _I’m_ the one who can do better…” He was so close, and Naomi’s body started to respond. She had been so afraid, so sure she would lose him, that seeing and feeling and hearing him sent relief through her entire body, followed by a desire to be even closer to him. He looked like he wanted the same.

“Please,” he said, voice rasping, eyes dropping to her lips. “Can I…? I want to kiss you…” The hand holding her face was shaking, his eyes back on hers, burning and pulling her closer. “I love you…”

Naomi could only nod, her throat aching. And then Cullen’s lips were on hers, the scruff on his jaw scratching her chin, her lips. He breathed deeply, his nose pressed to her cheek, one hand pulling their faces close, the other reaching for her waist. Naomi sighed, burying her hands in his hair, relief scattering the tension that had been wound tight through her body. He loved her, still wanted to be with her, still wanted to kiss her, deeper, until she could barely breathe…

He pulled away with a soft moan, gasping into her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he growled. “But I need… need you to know I won’t… I won’t hurt you again…” His hand gripped her waist, wandered to grasp her hip. “I love you. I want to be with you no matter what. I want to be here when you’re afraid, when you’re hurting. I want to know everything about you, whether it happens in the Fade or not… I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep things from me.”

Naomi thought she was going to cry. This was so far from what she had expected to happen when Cullen came to talk, so much better than all outcomes she had imagined. Cullen forgave her, still wanted her, accepted her dreams, wasn’t leaving her…

“It’s all right Cullen,” she gasped, reaching for his hair, for his back. “I love you, and if… if you’re sure…”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Of course I’m sure. That should never have been in question.”

Naomi kissed him this time, taking his lips with hers, letting him lower her down until his weight pressed her to the hay-strewn ground. It was far from comfortable, but she didn’t care, because Cullen was _there_ and wasn’t going to leave her and she wouldn’t be alone…

Cullen had worked his way between her legs and his hand was pulling on her skirt. Naomi pushed her hips against his, used one of her own hands to help move her dress out of the way. Her face was numb from kissing Cullen, her heart pounding, sending throbs of pleasure coursing through her core with every beat. She didn’t know how they had come to this so quickly, but she didn’t care, and hoped he intended to go all of the way, because she wanted all of him…

And then her stomach heaved, and she barely had time to push Cullen off before she was vomiting sour bile from her empty stomach, realizing only after that she had not managed to miss the skirts of her gown, spread out in disarray from Cullen’s frantic attempt to get beneath them. Naomi stared at the floor, swallowing in an attempt to calm her still turbulent stomach. Her body was shaking, her chest vibrating, her head light.

“Naomi, are you all right?” Cullen asked, his hand on her shoulders. “Maker, I… I forgot about the amulet.”

“It’s… ok,” Naomi gasped, spitting to clear the bile from her mouth. The action sent her stomach clenching again, along with another wave of vomit. She gasped when she was done, trying to catch her breath, struggling to stay conscious. It was just as bad as earlier in the night, except this time Nassella wasn’t wearing the other half of the pair…

“Too much excitement…” she said quietly. “I need to calm down… I think…”

Cullen guided her to the ground once again, this time kneeling by her side, moving her skirts down toward her feet. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I… didn’t realize this would happen.”

“I know,” she whispered, clutching her head with a hand. “I didn’t think it would be this bad either…”

“What can I do?” Cullen asked. “How can I help?”

Naomi forced her eyes open. Cullen was hovering above her, searching her face worriedly. She didn’t know what to tell him, didn’t know what would make her feel better. Save for removing the amulet, she had no idea what to do. No one did.

But she didn’t want to stay in the stables. “I think we should… go inside. And… sleeping would maybe help.” If anything, she could find relief from her aching head and shaking body.

Cullen nodded, and then his arms were under her body, lifting her from the floor. But he didn’t set her on her feet, instead moved to carry her back to the mansion. Naomi almost insisted on being put down, but she wasn’t sure she could trust her legs, and her head was still spinning. So she wrapped her arms around Cullen’s neck, and focused on keeping her stomach under control.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as they passed through the kitchen. “This is my fault.”

“Shhh,” Cullen murmured. “It’s all right. We’ll find a way to help you.”

Naomi nodded, her head pressed into his neck, realizing how relieved she was to know Cullen was still there. “I know,” she whispered. She just didn’t know how.


	91. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW bits at the beginning

_Nassella sighed. She was warm, soft, fallen leaves brushing her bare back, toes curling in the damp forest loam. Lips pressed against her neck, the dip of her clavicle, took her nipple with a nip of teeth, a calloused hand firmly squeezing the other…_

_“Ar lath ma…”_

_“Ma vhenan…”_

_Light flickered across her eyes, a face came into focus. Familiar, more familiar than her own after a life without mirrors, strong tanned features, dark, downturned eyes, Andruil’s pale bow freshly inked into his skin, cutting through full, weathered lips..._

_Mahanon_

_He moved in her beneath a canopy of light dappling green and gold, her own body light and warm, safe beneath his wiry strength. She had thought she loved him once, this young hunter from her clan. Back when her own face was still unmarked, when she was just coming into her own as a hunter. But Mahanon was proud, and he had resented her budding skill, belittled her contributions masked as jokes, even when she surpassed all other hunters in their clan, chose Mythal’s purple branches to mark her own features, a promise to defend, to protect…_

_“Bond with me,” he groaned, biting at her pointed ear. Nassella gasped, pleasure rocking through her body as he rocked into her, cock pressing and filling the hot depths of her sex._

_“No,” she whispered, eyes fixed on the dark branches spanning the canopy above. She did not love him, and though she found pleasure in his body, she did not think he would make her happy…_

_“Be the mother of my children…” he insisted. Asked again. She could have his children, be confined to the circle of aravals for months at a time, nursing and raising little elves, the future of the Dalish, waiting for her mate to return with their food, his place as the primary hunter restored once he filled her womb._

_“No,” she repeated. She was only twenty-two, her best hunting years ahead. There would be time for little elves later…_

_Mahanon growled, his pace increasing, desperate and rough and delicious. “Don’t leave.”_

_“I have to.”_

_Keeper Deshanna had asked. Their clan had always interacted more with humans. Mahanon may not like it, but they needed to know if this human conflict would affect them, even deep in the forest…_

_He was frantic, entering her with deep thrusts that should not have been possible in their positon. They groaned together, shuddered as one, and Nassella stared into the light filtering through the forest leaves, warm and sated and racked with guilt._

_It had been a mistake to sleep with him that last time, before she left. But he’d followed her while she hunted, and she had always struggled to resist his eyes, his hands, his cock…_

_Mahanon was gone and Nassella was alone, cold, damp snow drifting through the now bare branches of the forest. She stood and there was a flash of green. She raised her hands to shield her eyes, only to have the left yanked away, offered toward the sky while magic and pain stabbed through her palm, pulled and tugged toward the crystalline rift torn into the Veil…_

_Until it snapped shut, and she was faced with another man, another elf, tall and pale and serious…_

_Something had drawn her to Solas from the beginning. He was unlike Mahanon in so many ways, not just his look. He was calm, reserved, knowledgeable about so much more than fletching and stalking and skinning…_

_And so utterly critical of everything she had ever known._

_It made her prouder, fiercer in her Dalishness. But she also questioned, was glad she had sought more than a life filled with breeding. She missed her clan, but thoughts of bonding with Mahanon were scattered._

_“Vhenan.”_

_Solas stalked forward, crowded her against a tree. Nassella barely had time to gasp, look into his cool steel eyes before his lips were on hers, tongue pushing past her lips, past her teeth, stealing her breath, swallowing her moans. She pushed against him, shuddered when his hand slipped between her thighs, dipped into her sex, pushed inside and fucked her until she could barely stand on her legs…_

_And then he too was gone, leaving her achingly unsatisfied. She fell to her knees, a desperate cry falling past her lips. Why, when she actually loved a man, did he refuse to love her like she wanted?_

_Screams pierced through the now-dark forest, and Nassella scrambled to her feet, fear replacing her disappointment, her lust. She rushed ahead, following the flickering light of fires through dense stands of gnarled trunks, the haze of smoke growing stronger with each step forward. She reached the clearing of her clan, aravals nothing but blackened skeletons, shadowed bodies slumped among smashed crates and tools, everything she had ever known destroyed…_

_She fell to her knees again, weeping._ Don’t leave _rang through her ears. Don’t leave, Mahanon had said, but she did, and now she could never return. She felt the lines of her vallaslin burning her face as she cried. Protect. Defend. It was what she had promised her clan she would do…_

_Arms wrapped around her body, pulled her into the something that was simultaneously soft and hard, wonderfully warm._

_“I’m so sorry Ness.”_

_It was a human’s voice, and she raged. Raged against him, as if he could understand what she had lost…_

_But he could, because it was James, and he was still holding her, still murmuring “It’s ok, it’s all right…” even as she struck and tore at his face, at every inch of exposed skin. Her family was d_ ead. _She had left them, and then hadn’t returned. It was her fault. Mahanon, Deshanna, Aralia, her mother… they were all dead because of_ her.

_It wasn’t James’s fault, and her rage subsided. All that was left was pure, aching sorrow…_

_“You’ll keep going,” James murmured. “You’re not alone. We’re here for you.”_

_Nassella pulled back, looked into his blue-green eyes set beneath thick brows. His full, curved lips turned up in a smile. “I’m here for you.”_

_He was so close, warm and solid and beautiful…_

_She kissed him, like she should have done that night in the forest, like she should have let him kiss her all those months before._

_“James.”_

_His dark scruff scratched her skin, his calloused hands ran over her body. And then she was entirely enveloped, covered by warmth and strength, securely wrapped in his thick, strong arms while he moved, pressed into her…_

_“Vhenan.”_

_The word sprang past her lips as James moved his own to her neck, to her breast._

“Vhenan…”

_That was wrong, the word pitched in a male voice. James wouldn’t call her that. He wasn’t elven, and his lips were currently occupied, working between her legs…_

“Nassella!”

Nassella woke with a start, eyes seeing nothing in the pitch black of the room, her body burning, pressed against another, her core _throbbing_ with every heartbeat. “What-?” she asked groggily, blinking the sleep from her eyes, tearing her mind from thoughts of James and his lips and his hands and his cock to the present, to the darkness straining her eyes, the real, physical body next to hers…

It wasn’t James, couldn’t be James, and Nassella remembered returning to her room the night before, finding Solas reclined on her bed in nothing but a pair of thin cotton breeches. She had paused in the doorway, her eyes wandering over his exposed chest, ridged with lean muscles, and lower, to the not insubstantial rise of his groin…

She had crawled into bed next to him after replacing her gown with a nightshirt, too upset and tired and guilty over everything that had happened that night to find out if the way Solas had kissed her at the Winter Palace was an indication he wanted more.

And what little good it had done her, she realized as she pulled herself into full wakefulness. She was tangled around Solas, her leg thrown between his, her nightshirt riding up until it barely covered her ass, her sex, _dripping_ after her dream…

A dream, she realized, that had not featured only Solas. It was James, she knew, that was still causing her heart to race, her sex to clench with an aftershock of pleasure at the memory. After everything, she still wanted James.

But cleared from the haze of the dream, she remembered more clearly, how he had rejected her, hurt her, even pushed her to the ground… and yet she still wanted him. He had made it clear he no longer wanted her, and still he had worked his way into her mind, and she couldn’t shake it out, keep it from her dreams. Couldn’t just accept that she had missed her chance.

“You were dreaming,” Solas said.

Dreaming. And not of him. Not at the end. Not when he had woken her up, when perhaps _she_ had woken _him…_

Cold dread settled in her stomach. “Did I say anything?” she managed to whisper, praying there had been nothing, that she had not given away what was playing through her mind, _who_ was in her mind…

A heartbeat’s pause. “Nothing coherent,” Solas said. Another heartbeat. “There was moaning, however, and you were writhing quite frantically when I woke…”

Heat tinged Nassella’s cheeks, travelled down her neck. She became acutely aware of the way her leg was pressed between his, and reached to pull her nightshirt further over her naked backside. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” Solas replied, his arm circling around her back, pulling her body closer to his. “I… know I have not given you everything you hoped for. Everything you want.”

No, he hadn’t. But she had addressed this before, told herself she would wait. “It’s all right,” she said, moving to pull herself away from his body. She had waited this long. What was a few more months…?

Solas moved with sudden force, pinning Nassella’s back against the mattress, against the blankets, his own body lightly pressed against hers. “It didn’t seem like it was all right when you were grinding against me,” he said, voice a growl. Nassella’s breath hitched, and she realized that pressed against one of her bare thighs, through Solas’s thin breeches, he had started to grow hard, hot.

“It’s… been a long time,” she said, reaching to circle his back with her arms. Her entire body was tensed, her core aching, and she hoped, _prayed,_ that this meant he was ready. She had no doubt that moving forward with Solas would dispel those traitorous thoughts of James from her mind…

But even though Solas was pressing into her, mere inches from her face, he hesitated. His brow furrowed, and Nassella knew he was seconds away from pulling away, from leaving her cold and longing…

She reached for the smooth dome of his head and pulled him down before he could leave, pressing her lips against his. He moaned softly, melting into her, his hands gripping at her waist, his lips pulling on hers. Nassella hooked a leg around his body, rolled his hips against him. Anything to show him, tell him that she wanted him.

He placed a hand on her thigh, slid it under her nightshirt, clasped her hip. Nassella’s heart was racing, and she rolled against him as she gasped, “Ar nuvenin ma Solas…”

And he stalled. Nassella’s heart skipped. “Please Solas,” she whispered, desperately trying to pull him closer, reaching for his lips with hers. “Please…” He couldn’t stop now, when he was on top of her, pressing against her, his hand so close to her…

But he resisted her, and then removed his hand from beneath her clothes. Nassella deflated, released his body and dropped her hands to her sides. Again. He had refused her again, and it almost felt as bad as when James had done the same the night before.

“I’m sorry Nassella, but… there is no time,” Solas said quietly. “We need to prepare to leave.”

A small twist of fear pinched her stomach. “Naomi?”

Solas nodded. “Her symptoms have returned. I… don’t believe we should delay any longer.”

“You spoke with her?” Solas nodded again. Nassella bit her lip. “Did she say anything about Cullen?”

“It seems they have worked through their disagreements.”

“That’s good,” Nassella said with a relieved sigh.

“Yes,” Solas said. “She has attracted the attention of enough spirits and demons. She does not need the added pressure of a fight with her lover weighing on her mind in the Fade.”

Nassella nodded. “So… you need to leave for Skyhold?”

“Yes. We should wake the others and go as soon as possible.”

Nassella knew it was important, knew Solas was right. Helping Naomi had to be a priority…

But the priority for Nassella was going to the Emerald Graves. There was a man named Fairbanks offering information, and red lyrium smuggling activity… She couldn’t return to Skyhold with her friend, and she couldn’t return with Solas.

Which meant it would be weeks before she saw Solas again, weeks before they could possibly find themselves in this sort of position. Disappointment pressed on her chest. One thing. This was one thing she wanted, after so long alone, after everything bad and terrible that had happened… A chance to lose herself, for just a few moments, with Solas…

But Naomi’s life was more important than her own needs, even if Nassella’s needs were screaming through every pore in her body. So she took a deep breath and nodded, sitting up when he rolled off of her.

“We still need to decide who is going back to Skyhold, and who is coming with me,” she said as she crawled off the bed, changing the subject to distract from the disappointment. She wondered if Solas shared the same sentiments. “I’ll need a mage.”

“Vivienne should come with Naomi. She has more experience healing.”

Nassella nodded. “Then Dorian will come with me.” She tugged at an earlobe while she opened her trunk to find travelling clothes. “Is there anyone else you think _needs_ to be with Naomi?”

“Cassandra,” Solas responded, “should we need to resort to removing Naomi’s abilities entirely.”

Right, the most drastic plan, the most desperate measure. Cullen could no longer provide Templar abilities, so it would have to be Cassandra.

“Fine,” Nassella said, reaching for a pair of breeches. Then she paused. “James will need to go as well,” she added quietly.

Solas said nothing, and when Nassella glanced toward him, his face was a mask of cool rage. “No. I will not travel with him.”

Nassella gaped at Solas. She knew he was angry… “He’s her brother,” she said.

Solas glowered. “He is a child who cannot control his temper. Should the worst befall Naomi, he will certainly blame me, as he did last night. I do not wish to harm him, but I will be forced to take action if he chooses to attack me again.”

Nassella’s stomach twisted. Seeing James and Solas arguing the night before had been bad enough, and she had no doubt what James would be willing to do if anything else happened to Naomi. If that included attacking Solas, however, she also knew who would come out on top of that conflict. James was strong, fade-touched, but Solas’s magic…

But Nassella couldn’t separate James from Naomi. Because if the worst _did_ happen, he would never forgive her. “He would never agree to come with me,” Nassella said. “I will talk to him, if you want, but I will not keep him from his sister.”

Solas glared for another moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

Nassella sighed with relief. “Thank you.” She returned to finding a tunic. “Anyone else?”

“Cole will want to help,” Solas said. “From what I have already seen, Naomi’s struggles will extend to the Fade. It would be advantageous to have someone in addition to myself assist her there.”

Nassella nodded her agreement, changing into her riding clothes. It could work. A small group could travel quickly for Skyhold, reach the fortress within a week, hopefully arriving to find Dagna with a solution to cut through Naomi’s skin. Or better yet, Solas or Vivienne could find a way to separate the fade-touched metal from Naomi’s fade-touched body…

But if it didn’t work, if there was no solution, if Naomi deteriorated, if removing her abilities with a Templar killed her before the metal could be cut out… Nassella swallowed the lump forming in her throat, blinked back a tear. She wouldn’t be there. Parting ways today might be the last time she saw Naomi…

She shook the thought from her mind. _No. That won’t happen._ Something _will work._

“Let’s wake the others,” she said, closing her chest. She would have to pack a light travelling pack, choose her own party… But Solas was right. It was time to get moving. She didn’t yet know how Corypheus would react after losing Orlais, but it was best that the Inquisition continue forward as soon as possible. Corypheus would certainly not be taking any breaks.

Solas stopped her before she could exit the room, his gray eyes beseeching hers. He swallowed, then ran a hand down her arm, tangled his fingers with hers. Nassella’s throat panged. She loved him. Loved that he had come to her room the night before, even though he had his own. Loved that he was here when she needed to talk, to work through her decisions as the Inquisitor, that he _respected_ her decisions, even if he didn’t agree. Loved that he was as worried about Naomi as herself. Loved looking at him, at the strong angles of his face, his pointed, elven ears, his slightly downturned, stormy eyes…

Part of her even loved that he wanted to wait. That he loved her without sleeping with her, that it was not his primary goal in being with her, that he knew how important it was for her to remain childless, when there was so much more she could be. She wondered what Mahanon had thought, when her clan learned she had become the Inquisitor, that she would not be coming back.

But even knowing all of that, part of her empty. She wanted it to be enough… but it wasn’t. Not for her.

And she could see that Solas knew it as well.

“Nassella… Vhenan,” he said quietly, fingers caressing her hand. “You must know I want you, in every way.”

Nassella chewed at her lip, but nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “I know.” And someday she would have him…

He studied her a moment longer, then pulled her into one last, slow kiss, his hands gently squeezing her waist. He let out a long sigh when he pulled back, and Nassella’s core throbbed with one last surge of want. “When you return to Skyhold, when we have more time… I would like to show you,” he murmured.

Nassella’s heart thudded, and the fire between her legs flared. She wanted to ask why, to know what had finally changed his mind…

But she didn’t care. She just cared that she would finally, _finally_ have him as she had ached for for months, and dreams of James, of Mahanon, would cease.

“Ok,” she whispered, starting to smile. She reached to bring his lips to hers again. “I want to show you too.”

 

* * *

 

Naomi pulled Liberty to a stop, swinging her leg over the saddle and dropping to the ground. She collapsed to her knees, retching into the grass beside the road, her stomach aching, her throat burning from the acidic bile unbuffered by food.

When she was done she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, focusing on staying conscious, on keeping her stomach from heaving again. Her entire body shook, and she curled her fingers through the blades of grass, grounding herself to the earth. She could do this. She hadn’t fainted in three days, since the Winter Palace, maybe she could keep herself from vomiting…

But her stomach clenched again, and her entire body worked to expel the contents of her stomach, the magic flowing through her body. Except, her stomach was empty, and this magic was going nowhere. So she just retched and heaved until she thought she would cry from the pain.

Hands were holding her shoulders, keeping her from collapsing into her puddle of vomit, and when her stomach finally, mercifully calmed, those hands pulled her against a solid, warm body, and wrapped around her while she shook, took deep breaths to calm the rest of her body.

_I can do this. It’s like the flu. I can handle a flu…_

She heard footsteps, water sloshing, and then Cullen murmured, “Try to drink some water,” his body shifting as he pressed a leather canteen into her hands. After another moment of calm, Naomi opened her eyes enough to unclasp the stopper, bring the opening to her mouth with slightly trembling hands. She spat the first mouthful of water out, then sipped, slowly, focusing on keeping the liquid down. She could go days without eating, but she knew not drinking water couldn’t be an option. She stared at a solitary elfroot bending in the breeze while she drank, feeling that same cool air carry the sweat from her face. _I can do this. It’s just a flu…_

But she knew it wasn’t, and while she had managed to keep some broth down the first day after leaving for Skyhold, it was becoming more and more difficult to put anything, even water, down her throat without it coming right back up. If this had been just a flu, she would wait it out, let her immune system heal her. But the amulet wouldn’t heal on its own, and this vomiting might never end.

_No. Someone will figure out what to do. I can handle it until then._

“Perhaps we should stop for the day,” Cullen suggested, his head turned away from Naomi’s ears.

“There are several hours of daylight left,” Solas said. He must have brought the water. “We must make more progress than this.”

“A break then,” Cullen insisted. “This is the fifth time since we stopped for midday…”

Naomi closed her eyes. She knew Cullen was trying to help, but they didn’t have time to delay. They were already travelling slower than they should be, and every day’s journey stopped short, or progress stalled for her to vomit, just increased the amount of time that metal would be inside of her. “It’s all right,” she said with as much confidence as she could. “I can keep moving.”

Cullen started to protest, but Naomi stood, slowly, her head spinning slightly. But she steadied herself on his shoulder when Cullen followed her to his feet, and walked on her own volition back to Liberty’s side. She caught James’s eye as she hauled herself into the saddle. He had dropped from Echo’s back, and probably would have come to her side if Cullen had not. James watched her, frowning, until she was securely in place, then climbed on his own horse’s back, pulling the reins to guide the animal back to the path.

Naomi avoided anyone else’s gaze as they started forward. There were too many worried glances, too much pity. Not from Solas or Vivienne or Leliana. But Josephine and Varric… even Cassandra could not keep her brow from furrowing every time she looked at Naomi. And Cullen and James… Naomi didn’t think either of them had so much as smiled in three days.

Not that Naomi had done much smiling either.

She watched the ground just in front of Liberty’s head as they moved, focused inward, on keeping her nausea in control. If she could just go an hour without needed to vomit…

It had been a struggle ever since they left that mansion in Orlais. She had woken wrapped in Cullen’s arms, only to ruin the sheets on the bed as she emptied her stomach. Her body had calmed after that, allowing her to give Dorian and Bull final hugs, smile in farewell to Sera and Blackwall, turn to Nassella to find the elf’s large green eyes shining with tears, then pulled into a fierce embrace by her friend.

Her friend who had found her chased up a tree by a druffalo, climbed that same tree to sit among the branches while Naomi cried and spilled her sorrows, her fears. Her friend who had wandered the woods around Haven with her, pointing out plants and animals, giving her their names, knowledge to ground herself in a new world. Her friend who had helped her learn to fight, started showing her how to hunt, giving her confidence in the Fade, confidence while she was awake. Her friend who was so often gone, or busy, but still the easiest person to talk to, who knew her secrets before anyone else…

Her friend who was still filled with guilt over what had happened, over what she thought she did. Naomi made sure to tell Nassella, again, that she did not blame her, not even a little, but she could feel in the way Nassella’s body shook when they hugged that the elf had not forgiven herself.

It was another reason why something needed to be done, a solution had to be found. Naomi considered it was a good thing Nassella was currently travelling in the opposite direction, along the opposite side of the Frostback Mountains. Naomi didn’t want her friend to see how sick she was getting, not when Nassella would only blame herself.

Because if Naomi was going to blame anyone, it would be _her_ self. She had been the one to keep the early discomfort to herself. She had been the one to insist on continuing wearing the amulet, even after its more violent effects started to be shown. _She_ was the one who was so desperate to help, so insistent on using her abilities instead of letting them go to waste, that she had ignored the warning signs the amulet posed. Nassella may have forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that using the anchor while wearing the amulet would be bad, but Naomi couldn’t be angry with her.

Liberty jostled slightly, unguided by Naomi but following the others along the road. They had picked up their pace slightly, and Naomi closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed, doing what she could to mentally will the turning in her stomach to cease. They had moved faster, that first day, as Naomi had felt no urge to vomit after that first time in bed, no dizziness, the only discomfort coming from the cramps stabbing through her abdomen, her monthly bleeding arriving at possibly the most inconvenient time.

But she had promptly expelled the food she tried to eat at midday, and had been unable to keep anything but a few sips of broth down since. She was no longer cramping from bleeding, but her entire abdomen ached from the emptiness of her stomach. And it didn’t even matter that she hardly ate anything anymore, because she just kept getting sicker.

“You doing all right Freckles?” Varric asked. Naomi glanced toward the dwarf on his pony.

She wanted to say she was all right, but it was a lie, and Varric would know it. But she didn’t want to complain either. “I don’t think I’ll have to throw up for a while yet.”

Varric gave her a sympathetic smile. “Anything I can do to help?”

He had no magic, no knowledge that would remove the amulet, but Naomi knew that wasn’t what he was offering to help with. She tried to smile back. “I could use a distraction.” From the aching and the hunger and the undeniable vibrating of her chest. “Nothing too graphic though.”

Varric jumped into a series of stories, some from his childhood, many featuring his brother, even more moments with the friends he had made in Kirkwall with Hawke, several stories that had failed to make the cut of his book. Naomi tried to pay attention as much as she could, but even though she had asked for no graphic details, most of Varric’s stories featured violence and killing and fighting, and after the Winter Palace, it was one of the last things Naomi wanted to hear about. So she gradually stopped listening, and eventually Varric stopped talking.

They were back in Ferelden, and though the land was beautiful as the late summer turned toward autumn, Naomi couldn’t enjoy it, so wrapped up in the turmoil coursing through her body, now matched with thoughts of the Winter Palace, the killing she had seen…

She hadn’t thought much about it at the time, but now she remembered the blood, her friends, her family killing. James had been stabbed, in the neck. He should have died, and Naomi had been helpless to do anything. She had seen the woman attacking, but she had been too paralyzed by fear, by the effects of the amulet, that she had made no move to try and keep her brother safe.

She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to keep anyone safe. She had managed to disarm the man who had attacked her from behind, but even if she hadn’t fainted, she wouldn’t have been able to kill him. She had held the knife to his throat, looked into his eyes, and hesitated.

But James had done no such thing. The man had been dead when she came to, James’s sword stained with the man’s blood. From the way Varric talked, he had killed hundreds of people. How close was James to that number?

_You’ve killed as well. You killed a Warden…_

Naomi blinked, clearing her vision that had grown blurry with tears. She had killed a person, and had trained, planned on going into that ball to kill again if she had to. Guilt twisted her stomach. She knew it was war, and that their enemies trying to destroy the world needed to be ended with violence. But she had still killed that woman. She had ended a life.

_Murderer._

Naomi started, lifted her eyes from the road ahead to see who had spoken, who could possibly have said that to her…

But there was only Varric at her side, now turned toward James as he continued his stories, and Cullen on the other. There was no way they had said anything. They wouldn’t.

_You’re a murderer, and you’ve let your brother become one as well…_

A chill ran through Naomi’s entire body, the amulet started to pulse with her heart. That voice belonged to no one she knew, and it had come from everywhere at once, ringing through her head. No one else seemed alarmed, as they continued conversations over the clatter of hooves pounding over packed earth, or simply rode forward in silence. No one else had heard the voice.

_You killed her, ended her life. She would have joined the Inquisition had she not died…_

Naomi gripped Liberty’s reins, guilt and fear twisting with the nausea building once more in her stomach. For several moments she rode ahead in tense silence, waiting for that voice to sound again. There was nothing, though the amulet’s vibrations continued to grow. She was about to ask for a halt when Liberty pulled to an abrupt stop just as they reached a shallow ford in a wide river.

Naomi nudged Liberty’s sides, encouraged the horse forward with commands, only to be met with stubborn stillness. Most of the party was nearly across the water, not even aware she had fallen behind, Cullen was the only one left on her side of the river.

“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.

Naomi shook her head, trying in vain to move Liberty forward. “I don’t know, she just stopped.” She nudged the horse’s sides again. “Forward Liberty…”

“Is she skittish of the water?”

Naomi frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. She’s always been fine with water.” A final nudge with no response moved Naomi to dismount, guide the horse forward if she had to…

She had barely swung one leg over Liberty’s back when her entire world turned, her stomach flipped, and dark covered her eyes.

 

\----- 

 

When Naomi blinked her eyes open, Liberty was gone. She sat up slowly and glanced around. Twisted trees leaned over a muddy river, the air glowed with a strange greenish tint, and no breeze stirred the dying leaves. She couldn’t find Liberty anywhere, and everyone else she had been traveling with seemed to have disappeared. Confused, Naomi stood slowly, unease crawling down her spine.

Then there was a strangled cry, and Naomi turned to find the Warden she had killed staring at Naomi with pure anger and hatred, an arrow stuck through her neck, the wound flowing dark, crimson blood.

“You,” the woman rasped, lips pulled back in a snarl. Before Naomi could blink, register fear, the Warden was rushing forward, knives gripped in both hands…

Naomi reached for weapons of her own, but only managed to grab the hilt of a single knife before the Warden slammed into her body, bringing them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Panicked, Naomi lashed out with her elbows, kicked with her legs, pushed against the Warden’s body in a struggle to get away, to not let herself be pinned…

Pain erupted from her side, and Naomi remembered the Warden was armed. With a scream Naomi twisted and slammed her elbow back, the Warden’s hold loosening when Naomi caught exposed flesh, heard the crunch of bone. Naomi scrambled away and to her feet, grasping the side that was now growing slick and warm with blood. The Warden was also rising to her feet, blood now flowing from her nose, adding to the blood still flowing from her neck.

_How is she still alive…?_

But Naomi had no time to consider, as the Warden rushed forward with another snarl. Panicked and in pain, Naomi grasped once more for the knives strapped to her sides, this time managing to retrieve them before the Warden could reach her. She dodged at the last moment, catching the Warden’s swing with knife of her own and pushing with the Warden’s momentum, sending the woman flying back to the ground.

With a cry Naomi fell on the woman’s back and sank her knife into a gap of her armor, stomach twisting at the resistance to the blade. But she pulled it out and stabbed again, and again, and again, until the Warden stopped moving…

Trembling, Naomi pulled the knife out of the Warden’s body and backed away. The arrow was still protruding from her neck, the wound still flowing blood.

_How could she fight with that wound? It should have killed her._

And how was that Warden even here? Naomi had killed her months before…

Carefully Naomi circled the woman, clutching her weapon in one hand and her own wound still seeping blood down her side with the other, body going cold with fear. This wasn’t possible. None of this was possible.

Then she saw the Warden’s face.

Except, it wasn’t the Warden.

“No!” Naomi sobbed, rushing for the body. “Abby, no, it can’t be…”

But as she pulled the woman to her back, Naomi was met with the face of her sister, stained with blood, gray eyes glazed as she stared unseeing toward the sky…

“No, no, no! This can’t be possible…”

“You murdered me!” another voice cried, and Naomi tore her gaze away from Abigail to see the Warden, entirely healed, standing twenty feet away with an arrow trained on Naomi’s heart…

Naomi couldn’t move, couldn’t think what to do. She had killed her sister, her side was throbbing as she slowly bled to death, and this Warden had her pinned…

Then a snarl echoed through the trees, followed a heartbeat behind by a flash of light so strong that Naomi had to close her eyes. Magic crackled across her skin like sparks of electricity, the pain in her side disappearing with a final flare. And when Naomi at last opened her eyes again, Abigail was gone, and standing in the Warden’s place was Solas, staff in hand, his eyes nothing but black orbs ringed with red.

Naomi collapsed with a sob. The Fade. She was in the Fade. None of this was real.

Except, that wound had felt real, and the blood still soaked into her clothes felt real.

“Naomi,” Solas said urgently, striding toward her as she looked back up. “Naomi you must wake up.”

She blinked. “How did I get here? I didn’t try…”

“We passed a weak spot in the Veil. There is a powerful demon here. I can only hold it at bay so long. Please, you must wake up.”

Fear tightened in Naomi’s chest, but she nodded and closed her eyes, searching for the thread that would lead her back into wakefulness. She found it, but struggled to grab hold for several seconds, and it was only with effort that she was able to haul herself out of the nightmare, into her physical body, aching in several places from when she had tumbled from Liberty’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar nuvenin ma Solas… = I want you Solas…


	92. The Fever

Cullen knelt by Naomi’s side, gently stroking her cheek, waiting and praying for her to wake, trying not to think that this was the second time in less than a week that she had fainted in front of him.

He had been dropping from his own saddle before she even hit the ground, and when a cursory glance over her body revealed no obvious injuries, he had looked to her face, his heart racing with fear when she didn’t immediately open her eyes.

There were shouts, splashing, the thunder of hooves, and then James was at her other side, demanding to know what had happened. Cullen had no explanation beyond the obvious, and Vivienne’s cursory examination revealed nothing.

It was Cole muttering about fighting a murdered Warden that finally led them to the answer. Solas abruptly laid on the ground, closed his eyes, and fell into the Fade to find her.

Which left Cullen waiting, terrified of what Naomi was facing. The previous nights had been uneventful, Naomi assuring him when she woke that nothing had happened in the Fade, that there had been no demons. But Solas had also always been there, protecting her. This was the first time she had gone into the Fade alone since he had learned of how she dreamed, and hearing that she was fighting was sending Cullen toward panic. He monitored her breathing, reassuring himself she was still alive, simultaneously using his peripheral vision to spot his sword strapped to Obsidian’s saddle, should she come back as anything other than herself…

It made him sick, to think in such terms, but he needed to be prepared for the worst. It was what still prompted him to put his blade within arm’s reach when attempting to sleep for the night, why he had barely slept at all. He was trying, desperately, to not let himself be afraid when Naomi fell asleep, but part of him would not allow him to relax, would not let him forget the consequences of letting one’s guard down when it came to the Fade.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” James demanded, reaching to shake Naomi’s shoulder. “He should have found her by now.”

Cullen didn’t see how James could possibly know that. How long would it take to find her in the Fade? Had they even ended up in the same place? Cullen had tried to talk with Naomi about these types of details the previous nights, but even she didn’t know everything, and after a day of travelling and vomiting, she was understandably eager to fall asleep instead of talk.

Several more seconds passed, and Cullen only managed to hold onto his final scraps of calm because her condition did not change, her breathing remained steady…

And then she blinked, gasped, and before Cullen could ask what had happened, if she was all right, she was retching once more. Cullen’s chest ached. For three days he had watched her grow more and more ill, unable to do anything but be there to hold her up, offer her water, his presence. She had not eaten in that entire time, and Cullen considered it was entirely possible she had fainted from hunger.

Naomi sat back up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Another wave of pain squeezed Cullen’s heart. She had grown even paler, her eyes glazed when she looked at him, and when he gripped her hand she was shaking.

“What happened?” James asked, his eyes wide.

“I… heard this voice. And then Liberty stopped walking and I fainted…” Naomi rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “I was in the Fade and a demon attacked me. And it… if Solas hadn’t shown up…” Her voice broke, and she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel good…” She squeezed his hand.

Solas stirred and sat up, eyes immediately fixing on Naomi. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I threw up,” she murmured. “And the voice is still there.”

Those words scared Cullen more than her vomiting, more than her fainting. Nothing good came from hearing voices.

By the way Solas frowned, he was worried as well.

“We must keep moving,” the mage said, rising to his feet. “We must put distance between us and this place.”

Cullen shook his head. “She can’t travel like this.”

“No, we have to,” Naomi said, gripping his hand even tighter. Cullen met her gaze, and through the haze he could see pure fear. “Please, we need to move.”

He found himself nodding, standing and pulling Naomi with him. Seeing her afraid scattered his own fear, focused him. He couldn’t help her in the Fade, but he could keep his own head.

Naomi made to move toward Liberty, but Cullen guided her toward his own mount. “You’re not riding alone,” he said, climbing on Obsidian’s back. He offered her a hand, ignoring Naomi’s frown. “You were lucky you didn’t break anything falling off the first time.” She hesitated a second longer, then nodded, taking his hand and climbing behind him.

“I’m not planning on fainting again,” she murmured as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Cullen took Liberty’s lead offered to him by James, attaching it to his own saddle. He nodded at the dark haired man, whose blue-green eyes immediately turned toward Naomi. “Well I don’t think you planned on fainting the first time either,” James grumbled back. Cullen heard Naomi huff behind him, adjust her seat until she was flush with his back, her legs pressed against his. Cullen almost felt like smiling, wished he could enjoy the feel of her body against his. But there was nothing to smile about. None of this was planned, and this amulet just kept getting worse…

“Let me know if you need me to stop,” he told Naomi as he urged Obsidian down the road. Liberty followed after an initial snort of resistance, and soon they had crossed the river, Solas setting a faster pace than they had travelled in days. Cullen tried to guide Obsidian as smoothly as possible, but he could not ignore the small moans Naomi swallowed as they moved, and her arms clutched his body like a vice. But they had barely moved two miles when her arms loosened, and Cullen felt her slipping away from his body. He grasped her hands, turning his head over his shoulder.

“Naomi? Are you all right?” When she didn’t answer, he raised his voice. “Naomi!”

She grunted, her arms clutching him again. “I… what?”

Cullen squeezed her hands, pressing them against his stomach. “Did you faint again?”

He felt her head press against his back. “Almost. The voice won’t… won’t stop. I started to get lightheaded.”

Cullen’s stomach twisted. “How can I help?”

Her fingers twisted in his. “I don’t know,” she whispered, and the emptiness in her voice added to Cullen’s helplessness.

“Tell me what happened in the Fade,” he said, hoping to distract her from this voice. “Cole said you were fighting.” And it wasn’t just to distract her. She had promised to tell him everything.

Naomi sniffed. “The Warden that I killed at Adamant was there, the arrow still stuck in her neck. She attacked me, tackled me to the ground, and… and I was trying to get her off me, but I hadn’t grabbed my weapons in time. She stabbed me in the side…”

Cullen felt his breath catch. “You were injured?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “I got her off me, and then… then I was able to knock her down and I…” She sniffed again, and Cullen knew she was starting to cry. “I killed her, stabbed her in the back… But when I looked at her, it wasn’t the Warden. It was my sister…” She pulled herself closer, body shaking against his. “It was Abigail and I killed her…”

“No Naomi,” Cullen murmured. “It was the Fade. It wasn’t real. You know if wasn’t real.” Horrors. That’s all the Fade showed her. She could talk about grasslands and memories and spirits of Serenity… but this death and fighting was what stayed with her, hurt her. He didn’t think he would ever accept her dreams as good.

She was nodding again. “I know, I know. But it _felt_ so real…”

“It wasn’t her,” Cullen repeated, stroking her hand with a thumb. “It couldn’t have been her.” Abigail was dead, lost to the Fade. And this Warden was also gone…

“The Warden came back,” Naomi continued, voice shaking. “I hadn’t killed her, and then she was back, pointing an arrow right at me. And I didn’t know what to do… She would have shot me if Solas hadn’t shown up.”

Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. This is what knowing about Naomi’s dreams came with, tales of her nearly dying while she slept… “What… what would have happened if he hadn’t?”

Naomi linked her fingers with his, hand trembling. “I don’t know.”

Cullen wondered if the tension in his body would ever cease. He wanted to fight, confront whatever demon had made Naomi see these things, threatened her, injured her, nearly killed her…

But he couldn’t. She had been fighting for her life and all he could do was watch and wait for her to wake up, pray that she could handle herself. She claimed that for months she had done just that… but today, that had nearly not been the case.

“It keeps calling me a murderer,” Naomi said after a few moments of silence. “The demon… somehow it’s talking to me and… it just keeps saying I murdered her…”

“That’s not true,” Cullen reassured her. “It was battle, she had already attacked you. _Do not_ feel guilty for defending yourself, or anyone else.” One life. She had taken one life, and now a demon was using that guilt against her, threatening her when her actions had been entirely justified. Perhaps, if she accepted that, she would be free. “The Wardens were planning to unleash demons across the world. They had to be stopped.”

“I know,” Naomi mumbled. “But…”

“No,” Cullen said firmly. “You are _not_ a murderer Naomi. You cannot believe that about yourself. I don’t. Not at all.”

For another moment she said nothing, but she finally sniffed, and nodded slowly. “Ok,” she whispered.

The road forked, their way turning toward the south. They weren’t even halfway back to Skyhold, where there was no guarantee they would find a way to help Naomi. Cullen turned Obsidian down their path, pushing away the first fingers of despair that pricked at his mind. The fainting and the voices were a setback, but Naomi was strong. They could still make it back in time.

 

* * *

 

James watched as Solas inspected Naomi, resisting the urge to cross to the other side of the fire and pull him away from her, keep him from placing his hands on her chest and exploring her body with magic. He’d already apologized for lashing out once, and even if Solas had accepted his apology, if a little coldly, James had no intention of needing to ever say he was sorry to the elf again.

Naomi looked terrible. Dark circles had settled beneath her eyes, and she could barely keep them open, barely keep them focused on anyone else. He could see sweat dewing on her face, and though James doubted she had actually lost much weight over the past few days, she still looked diminished, fainter.

Solas’s hands glowed brighter and Naomi winced. Solas frowned, brought his nose closer, then pulled back, drawing the light in an increasingly thin thread from where the amulet glinted in the firelight. James watched Naomi squeeze her eyes shut, twist her features, until she gasped in pain.

Solas immediately dropped the spell. “My apologies,” he murmured.

Naomi just nodded, covering the amulet with her hand, bowing her head toward her lap. “Let’s take a break,” Cullen said, the blonde man sitting at one of Naomi’s side. Solas nodded, then stood and crossed to sit next to Vivienne. The mages began exchanging somewhat strained words. The others around the fire were largely silent, though Leliana attempted to pull Cullen into a conversation.

James thought Cullen hardly looked better than Naomi, his eyes bearing the same dark circles, his own shoulders hunched as if he was in pain. And James supposed he probably was. James was on edge himself, exhausted from worrying, his shoulders and neck aching from the tension coiled in his body. Neither of them liked seeing Naomi like this, and neither of them liked that there was nothing they could do.

At least Cullen was actually by her side, had offered her his horse, slept next to her so she wouldn’t be alone with her nightmares. They had made up after James left them in the stables, and he understood why his sister turned to the man she had fallen in love with, who shared her bed, but it did little to make James feel useful.

Not that it was about what _he_ wanted, so James staying silent, helped when he could, and let those who might a _ctually_ know what to do work.

“She’s glad you’re here,” Cole said softly. For once James didn’t jump. The spirit had been sitting next to him for nearly an hour, watching Solas work his magic. “She already thinks she won’t see Nassella again.”

James turned toward the blonde boy. “Why would she think that?”

“The Warden almost killed her. She’s afraid to go to sleep again.”

James swallowed thickly, glancing back toward Naomi across the fire. She’d leaned her head against Cullen’s shoulder, but he could see her eyes were open, staring into the flames, obviously green even from their distance. “Does she… think she’s going to die?” James asked quietly, looking back at Cole.

Cole ducked his head. “She thought so when she fell. She killed the Warden, except she didn’t, and then the Warden was going to kill her.”

James let out a long breath. “What about the amulet? Will that kill her?”

Cole’s pale eyes flashed toward James. “I don’t know,” the spirit said sadly.

Of course. Cole could read people’s minds, feel their pain, but he couldn’t predict the future.

_She can’t die_ , James thought. _After everything… this can’t be what kills her._

_And I… I can’t lose her. I don’t know what I’d do…_

“You should be happy. That’s all she wants.”

James frowned, Cole wiggling his way into his thoughts again. “Well, when you figure out how to do that, let me know,” he grumbled.

Cole ducked his head again, wringing his hands, then he muttered, “You should tell her.”

James blinked. “What?”

“Naomi thought it would hurt to tell, but he makes her happy when everything else hurts. You think it will hurt to tell, but maybe it wouldn’t.”

_Nassella._

James shook his head, glancing nervously toward Solas. But the mage was still engrossed with Vivienne. James glared at Cole. “It will hurt a lot more if you keep talking about this,” he said. Cole’s eyes widened, and James closed his. “Sorry,” he said. “I just mean… I’m not going to do that Cole, so drop it. Ok?”

Something like disappointment flickered Cole’s long face, but he nodded. “Ok.”

“Thank you,” James said, turning back to the fire. He knew Naomi had hesitated to bring up her feelings to Cullen, but she was just cautious. His situation was entirely different. Not only had he already admitted his feelings once before, but Nassella was involved with someone else. James didn’t like Solas, but he wasn’t going to try and break the elves apart.

But… what if Cole knew something? Nassella _had_ said she loved him, and even though James hadn’t believed her… what if he had been wrong?

What if she had meant it? What if she’d changed her mind?

James closed his eyes, his chest aching. Whatever had happened, it didn’t matter now. He’d pushed her away, yelled. Even if she had loved him… he couldn’t imagine she did anymore. If she had given him a chance, he’d promptly ruined it.

But if Cole was telling him to say something… maybe it wasn’t entirely ruined. Maybe Nassella would be open to… him.

James frowned. Why? Why would she change her mind? He hadn’t done anything, hadn’t tried to win her over. If anything, he had tried to avoid her…

But maybe he should change that. Maybe he should… try.

Try what?

He couldn’t tell her how he felt. If she rejected him again… And he really had no intention of getting between her and Solas…

Solas. And James remembered seeing them at the Winter Palace, kissing, the elf’s hands pushed beneath her dress…

And James had pushed Nassella to the ground. He’d physically hurt her…

He let out a long breath, chest twisting with pain. No. Whatever she had felt… it was different now. He couldn’t just tell her how he felt.

But… he could be better at showing her. At the very least, he could be less of a jerk.

She deserved that, and so much more.

Vivienne and Solas concluded their conversation. “What have you learned?” Leliana asked.

Solas leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. “I have tried separating the metal from Naomi’s body in every way I can think of. I even attempted to alter the wards I had used to protect Nassella from the effects of the Anchor back in Haven to do the same here. But this magic is unfamiliar, and I am… uncertain of how to work past it.”

Cullen took a deep breath through his nose. He had linked his hand with Naomi’s and his eyes turned toward her. She was still staring at the fire. “You’re saying you won’t be able to remove it?”

“I believe it is time to prepare for that possibility.”

“I agree,” Vivienne offered. Cullen glanced toward the other mage. “In addition, I believe we should consider that we will not return to Skyhold in time to find help.”

Cullen stared hopelessly at Vivienne, but it was Josephine who spoke. She had been largely silent, and James thought she looked out of place in her silks and fine fabrics next to everyone else in their leathers and rough cottons. “We sent word to Dagna. Surely she will be able to find a way past Naomi’s abilities.”

Vivienne frowned. “I do not want to count on her finding a solution in time.”

“How much time are you talking about?” James asked. Vivienne turned her dark eyes toward him. “Why don’t you think we have time?”

“I believe Naomi is suffering from mana imbalance,” Vivienne said. “The fade-touched silverite has increased her capacity for magic, and that is having a damaging effect on her body. The vomiting, hearing voices, dizziness, and falling into the Fade are all a result of the increased mana moving through her body. She took a turn for the worse today, and I suspect that trend will only continue. We are days from Skyhold. I suggest we consider our other option.”

James glanced toward Cassandra, sitting silently next to Varric. _She_ was the other option. But to resort to that…

“No,” Cullen said firmly, glowering at Vivienne. “That can’t be our only option. It is too dangerous.”

“I understand your concerns Commander,” the mage interrupted. “But with the proper preparation, I believe removing her abilities is now the best option. I have also exhausted any knowledge I have that could remove the metal. There is no guarantee Dagna will be successful.”

Cullen had bowed his head, rubbing his temples with a hand, his arm resting on a knee. “You did not see her the last time a Templar removed her abilities, Vivienne,” he said. “Within moments she was nearly gone. You say this metal is fused with her bone… how long would it take to cut that out of her? I don’t see how we would have the time for _that_.”

“I agree with Vivienne,” Solas added quietly. “After today… I do not feel comfortable keeping this amulet in her body any longer. She could deteriorate rapidly…”

James was watching Naomi, his heart racing as he listened to the discussion, growing more and more helpless with every word that was spoken. There was no solution. They were still days from Skyhold, and if Solas and Vivienne could find no solution, how could they expect anyone else to? And if Dagna couldn’t find a way past her skin…

And James knew exactly what Cullen was talking about. He had been there to find Naomi struggling to breath, fading before his eyes after Alec had removed her connection to the Fade. He had no intention of seeing that again.

But that was happening already, he realized as he looked at his sister. It was happening more slowly, but she was slipping away. She had been silent most of the night, and she looked so ill…

“That can’t be our only option,” Cullen said, his voice hollow. “Surely something else can be done.”

Solas shook his head. “I’m afraid this has become our best option.”

“No.”

Everyone turned toward Naomi.

“This was originally your suggestion, Naomi,” Solas said quietly. “We are lucky to know of any way past your abilities.”

“No,” Naomi repeated, shaking her head and looking at Solas. “I… I don’t want to do that.”

“You don’t have another choice my dear,” Vivienne said. “Surely you would want this amulet removed as soon as possible.”

Naomi turned toward Vivienne, green eyes flickering in the fire as she glared at the other woman. “No, not if that’s the way,” she said forcefully. “I believe Dagna will figure something out. And there’s still time for you or Solas to find a way…”

“I appreciate your optimism, but you should not count on our magic, Naomi,” Solas said gently. Naomi’s gaze turned toward the elf. “And Dagna may fair no better…”

“No!” Naomi yelled, standing quickly. James stood as well, watching as she swayed slightly on her feet, steadied by Cullen. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were shining with tears. “I don’t want Cassandra to cut me off from the Fade! I already almost died once today. I can’t… can’t do that again…” Her face twisted as she tried to keep herself from crying, and James felt like joining her. Here everyone was, discussing what should be done, their options growing more and more limited, going over everything that could go wrong…

No matter what they did, there was a chance she could die. And not a small chance. She was terrified, and James felt it too.

Cullen stood and attempted to draw Naomi into his arms. “Naomi…” he said quietly.

But she shook her head and pulled away, walking away from the fire. “I’m sorry, not tonight. Maybe… maybe tomorrow…”

She was gone, and James watched Cullen’s shoulders slump. Then he turned toward the mages. “Is there really no other way?”

Vivienne shook her head. “Considering the progression of her symptoms, I believe Cassandra will be our best course of option.”

Cullen glanced toward Cassandra. The Seeker nodded. “I will do what I can, but only if Naomi agrees. If removing her abilities entirely is really this dangerous, I will only do so with her support, and if there is truly no other option.”

Cullen looked toward where Naomi had disappeared. “Is it all right for her to sleep?”

“I will find her in the Fade. She will be safe.”

Cullen nodded. “Then we will continue this in the morning.”

Vivienne rose to her feet. “Commander, I would advise against that. We should not delay any longer.”

“I can’t make her do anything Enchanter.” He looked back toward the tent. “I should check on her.”

“Of course Cullen,” Josephine said. “You go ahead.” Cullen nodded, retreating into the darkness of the camp. When he was gone, Leliana shook her head.

“Something must be done. Cullen has been too distracted by this.” Then the spymaster turned toward James. “You should talk to Naomi, convince her to let Cassandra remove her abilities so we can remove the amulet.”

James glared at Leliana. “I’m not going to encourage Naomi to do something just so you can get your commander back,” he said. “Her life is more important than that.”

Leliana frowned. “Of course her life is important, but so is the Inquisition. We cannot fight effectively if our Commander cannot focus because he is worried about his lover. The sooner we resolve this…”

James crossed his arms, heart racing with anger. “And what if she dies because we rush into something? Do you think Cullen will be very effective then?” Leliana’s lips thinned, and James suddenly couldn’t stand the sight of her. “I don’t give a shit about Cullen’s ability to lead a fucking army right now,” he said, walking away from the fire.

James had nearly reached his tent when he saw Cullen removing his boots outside of his own. He watched the blonde man pause, turn his head toward the sky, and rub the back of his neck. James at least understood what Leliana meant. Cullen was not the sometimes stern commander James usually knew. He had spent nearly all his by Naomi’s side the last few days, and while James was glad of it, he knew Cullen had largely ignored the reports messengers occasionally brought on the road, and spent little time with Leliana and Josephine. And while Cullen often looked tired, James had never seen him quite this ragged.

James approached Cullen, nodding when the man turned toward him. “How is she?” James asked.

Cullen dropped his hand from his neck and glanced into the tent. “Already asleep.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I never noticed how quickly she falls asleep until after I found out where she dreams. It’s instantaneous…” Cullen stifled a yawn.

_He really looks exhausted…_

“When was the last time you slept?” James asked.

Cullen looked toward him. “I… don’t remember.”

James shook his head. “Are you serious?”

Cullen sighed. “I wanted to watch her.”

And James knew there was something he _could_ do to help.

He nodded toward the tent. “I’ll stay up and watch her. You need to get some sleep.”

Cullen frowned. “That’s not necessary…”

James shook his head, moving toward the tent. “She’s _my_ sister, Cullen. You don’t have to be the only one to help her.” James entered the tent, followed silently by Cullen. It was small, but there would be room for the three of them. Naomi was curled under her sleeping pad, hair half-obscuring her face. “You can’t even tell anything’s wrong,” James whispered, moving toward a corner of the tent free of bedding.

Cullen stared at Naomi, rubbing his neck again. “I know. But I keep imagining she stops breathing…”

James watched Naomi as Cullen removed most of his layers for sleeping. James realized Naomi had done the same, and wished he had told her he would be in the tent before she went to sleep. But it couldn’t be helped, and James knew Cullen needed sleep.

Cullen settled himself beneath the bedroll, keeping a distance between his body and Naomi’s that James suspected was for his own benefit. A gesture James appreciated, as his face heated slightly, seeing the other man even that close to his sister. Maybe he hadn’t thought this through…

“What do you think, about removing her abilities?” Cullen asked.

“I don’t like it,” James responded, leaning against a pack filled with what felt like clothing, and stretched his legs out as far as he could in the cramped space. “Who knows how long it will take to cut it out.”

“I know,” Cullen murmured. But after a moment he sighed. “But if it is truly the only option…”

“Yeah, I know,” James grumbled. It was risky, but the consequences of doing nothing, of trying nothing, were not acceptable.

“She thought she was going to die today,” Cullen said softly, pain leaking into his tone. “And I don’t like that she’s back in the Fade, facing more demons…”

“She won’t, not if Solas is there.” Much as he disliked it, James knew Solas had protected her before…

“But what about other nights. After this afternoon… If she let a demon in…”

“She’s not going to do that,” James said forcefully. He couldn’t believe she would. “You can’t be afraid of that.”

“I’m… not afraid,” Cullen said quietly. “But there is a chance…”

James shook his head. “No, there isn’t. She’s done everything she can to avoid being possessed.” He thought they had worked out these issues. “She can’t change this Cullen. So you need to figure out how to live with it, or move on. Don’t make her think you can handle it if you can’t.”

“I know she can’t change,” Cullen said quickly. “And I am _trying_ to accept it. It is just… taking longer than I thought.”

James sighed, leaning his head back. He doubted Naomi would want him to fight with her boyfriend. “Well, I’m here tonight. I’ll let you know if something happens. So try to get some sleep.”

Cullen turned, draping one hand over Naomi’s still body. “Thank you James,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t consider asking for your help sooner.”

“That’s fine,” James responded. Then he added, “if Obsidian needs a break, Naomi could ride with me tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Cullen said.

 

* * *

 

Naomi sat curled around her knees, glaring at nothing in particular, trying to control the fear and anger twisting in her mind.

She didn’t entirely know why she was angry, or who she was angry with. Everyone was just trying to help. But no one had asked her opinion, thought to see what she wanted to do. She could have jumped in faster, but they could have asked…

But mostly, she was afraid. Because no one knew what to do, and every path seemed to lead toward the worst. And she didn’t want to think about what that meant.

She could handle the discomfort, the vomiting, the vibrations in her chest, the fainting… she could even handle falling into the Fade, now that she knew it could happen. But anything else…

“Naomi?”

She looked up, Solas now standing in front of her. His eyes were back to steel blue, the black and red gone. She thought to ask why that had happened earlier, but decided against it.

“Hi,” she mumbled, looking away to glare at nothing again.

Solas sighed, and she saw him crouch out of the corner of her eye. “I understand you are frightened Naomi, but you must consider that removing the amulet with surgery is our best option…”

Naomi knew it was. She had thought from the beginning it was probably the best option, because it was the one she knew could work. But around the fire, as others began to realize the same, suggest they move forward with the plan… terror had seized every muscle in her body.

Just as terror seized her now. “I can’t,” she whispered, looking toward Solas. He at least looked concerned. She couldn’t stand to look at Leliana, or listen to Vivienne. They were too good at hiding what they were feeling…

“We do not know how quickly the symptoms of this metal will progress,” Solas patiently tried to explain. “I honestly do not believe we will find a magical solution in time, and I do not think we will reach Skyhold either.” She said nothing, clutching her body and staring across the Fade. “You will die if we do not remove the amulet,” Solas murmured. “Your body cannot handle the magic.”

Naomi swallowed the lump in her throat, blinked away tears. She knew that. She knew she was dying. She may be absorbing energy from the Fade, but it was just draining the strength from her own body. It was already worse than when she had been sick back in Haven.

But to let Cassandra cut her off from the Fade entirely…

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t,” she said again, desperate. “I… can’t do it.”

“Why not?” Solas asked.

She looked at Solas, starting to cry. “Because when Alec removed my abilities the first time, I fainted. But I didn’t end up in the Fade. I don’t know where I went. It was just… nothing. If Cassandra does the same that would be… that would be it. Everything would go dark, and if no one wakes me up in time…” she couldn’t continue, and dropped her head to cry in as much privacy as her arms could provide. They had suggested removing the amulet that night, and Naomi couldn’t do it. Because she wasn’t ready to accept that it might be the last night ever…

She could handle the vomiting. She could endure the fainting and the hunger and the voices. But she wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to die. Even if those others things killed her, she would at least have more time.

One of Solas’s hands slipped into hers. “It’s understandable to be afraid,” he said. “But you must know we would wake you up before you slipped away. Cullen certainly wouldn’t allow it. Neither would James.”

Naomi sniffed heavily. “And if you couldn’t get the amulet out?”

“We would try something else.”

Something else. Which meant this wasn’t their only option.

Naomi nodded, and took another moment to calm herself. When she finally looked up, Solas was watching her, eyes softened with compassion…

She understood why Nassella loved him.

“I’d like to keep trying, before we resort to Cassandra,” Naomi said shakily. “We don’t know if I will get worse yet.”

Solas nodded. “Of course. This is your decision.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen woke warm, not quite rested enough, and pressed against the soft curves of Naomi’s body…

He breathed deeply, the scent of her sweat and skin, a hint of elfroot and horse. It was one of the most familiar smells he knew, and with it came memories of holding her while she cried, while she slept, or just because he could. He thought of kissing her, and touching her, and making love to her…

He responded to this scent, to her heat, to her body, and as he hardened against her, he pulled her closer, pressing himself more firmly against her ass, gently kissed her neck…

“Good morning.”

Cullen started, swore under his breath, and sat up, blinking in the still dim light.

“Sorry,” James grumbled, standing as tall as he could in the tent. “I’ll give you guys some privacy.”

Cullen was burning. “Did you stay up all night?”

“Yeah,” James said. “I figured you needed the sleep more than I did.”

Cullen wanted to apologize, explain, but James was gone and he was left alone with Naomi.

Naomi, who was sick, and certainly not in the mood for anything like what Cullen had been imagining. He was still hard, but his mind had turned away from her scent and intimate parts of her body, to her face, checking that she was breathing, and the amulet fixed to her chest.

She was alive, sleeping peacefully for all he could tell. He laid back down, drawing her close, and waited for her to wake.

And realized that he had slept through the night, without nightmares, without fear.

_I can do this,_ he thought, breathing in deep again. _I will not be afraid. Not anymore._

She stirred, and Cullen was there to see her blink awake, her eyes still too green…

“How was your night?” he whispered. She turned toward him, reaching to stroke his face.

“It was fine.”

“No demons?”

“No demons.”

He leaned in, unable to resist kissing her, if just a little. She clutched his jaw, sighing when he pulled away. “I’m sorry about last night,” she murmured.

Cullen swallowed. “Don’t be. It’s your decision. We should have asked what you thought sooner.”

She nodded, and he could see she was about to cry. “I still can’t do it,” she said. “I’m… too scared.”

Cullen kissed her again. “All right,” he said, leaving his forehead pressed to hers. “That’s all right.”

She was scared, and he couldn’t do anything.

She buried her hand in his hair, an action that still sent shivers down Cullen’s spine. “Cullen…” she started, then stopped, taking a deep breath. Cullen looked into her eyes, unable to stop the longing for the blue that was now absent. “I love you Cullen,” she started again. “And I just… want to make sure you know that. And that… I think meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Cullen felt a tear slip out of his eye, and didn’t try to hold it back. “I feel the same,” he murmured. Naomi closed her eyes, her fingers curling against his scalp.

“What do you think I should do?”

Cullen shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing seems… ideal.” He stroked her own hair. “But I don’t like seeing you like this, and if Cassandra is the only way...”

For a moment, they were quiet, and Cullen allowed himself to touch her, gently, along the curve of her back, the rise of her ass. She was clothed, and he wondered if he would ever be able to touch her again, make her lose herself with pleasure again, hear her laugh again…

“I want to try to make it back to Skyhold,” she said eventually. “I really think Dagna could help.”

“All right,” Cullen said.

He took one more moment to kiss her, to touch her, then pulled away to tell the others to prepare to leave.

They moved as quickly as they could, Naomi switching between riding with Cullen on Obsidian, and with James on Echo. The first day of travel was largely the same, though Varric found a bucket along the roadside, giving it to Naomi so she wouldn’t have to scramble off a horse’s back to vomit. She was still dizzy, and fainted at least twice that Cullen could tell, but she never complained, and for once they got in a full day’s travel.

Cullen started to hope they could make it, that Vivienne had been wrong about how quickly she would deteriorate.

But the morning of their fifth day of travel, he had to shake Naomi awake, nearly shout before she blinked her eyes open.

“What happened?” Cullen asked, taking deep breaths to calm the panic that had risen through his body.

She grimaced. “It’s… getting harder to find my way back.”

Fear twisted in Cullen’s gut. He didn’t know what he would do, if some morning she didn’t wake…

The fever started around midday.

She was riding in front of Cullen, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her carefully against his body, when he noticed the heat, going from a comfortable glow through their clothing to something that burned. He called a halt, and when he pulled her from the saddle he could see the flush of her face, the now permanent glaze to her eyes. She muttered as he set her on the ground to feel her forehead.

“They’re dying,” she whispered. “They’re fighting and hurt and they’re going to die…”

“The Fade,” Solas said, kneeling to inspect her. “She is hearing the memories of spirits reenacting a battle.”

“What about the fever?”

“An attempt of her body to expel the extra mana. Unfortunately, a fever will not help.” Then he leaned down to meet Naomi’s gaze. “Naomi, we need to remove the amulet.”

Naomi focused on the elf, and shook her head. “Not yet.”

Solas sighed, but didn’t push, and they moved ahead.

But Cullen knew it was hopeless. If she was feverish, it would not break until the amulet was removed, and they did not have time, even at their fastest, to reach Skyhold before the fever became dangerous. He clutched Naomi to his body, knowing now they would have to have Cassandra remove her abilities, but unwilling to force Naomi to agree, not when she was this scared.

Vivienne and Solas tried for hours once they made camp to remove the amulet, to alleviate her symptoms, to lower the fever. All to no avail.

Cullen couldn’t even hold her that night, she was so feverish. James lay in a corner of the tent, falling asleep to give Cullen the first watch.

But Naomi hesitated to fall asleep.

“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked.

“I’m afraid I won’t wake up,” she admitted after a moment. Cullen though his chest would never stop aching, his throat would never stop being sore. His head had started to ache not long after her fever began, and it was now pounding.

“You’ll wake up,” he said, trying to reassure her. “I’ll make sure you do.” She closed her eyes, then murmured softly.

“Tell me about your childhood.”

Cullen frowned. “Why?”

She sighed. “Because you were happy as a child, and I like to hear about it.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smile, though it was tinged with bitterness. “I’ll give you a story for a story,” he said softly.

And her lips turned up in a small smile. “Deal.”

They talked for what could have been minutes, or hours, but eventually, she slipped into the Fade. Her breathing slowed, calmed, and Cullen even thought her temperature dropped.

It should have made him feel better, but instead, he worried more.

He prayed the entire night, not even bothering to wake James for his shift.

It was the hardest morning yet to wake her, and Cullen shouted and pleaded before she managed to crawl her way into wakefulness. She quickly settled back into fever, into shaking, and Cullen could see the disapproving glare Vivienne gave him as he helped her onto James’s mount. Cullen had to agree. They should not be travelling. But Naomi was still coherent enough to insist they try to reach Skyhold…

She was delirious by the end of the day, but found a moment of clarity to push off Vivienne and Leliana’s insistence they remove the amulet immediately. Cullen knew Solas was also trying to convince her in the Fade, and even James insisted it was time. Cullen knew as well, but he was nearly as scared as Naomi to take this step…

But it was their only option.

“Naomi, please,” he whispered as she slowly undressed for the night. He stared at the amulet, the skin around her chest flushed red. The amulet had started to heat, even warmer than her fever. “Naomi… we’re not going to reach Skyhold…” And if they did nothing, she would die…

_No. That can’t happen…_

But it very well could. Cullen didn’t know what he would do, and every part of him ached to think of losing her.

She paused, half-naked on the bedroll, definitely thinner as they reached nearly a week since she had last eaten, the fever accelerating the process. She stared at her hands and sniffed. “I know,” she whispered.

And it wasn’t just the fact that they would not reach Skyhold. She knew that she was dying, that it was time.

She started to sob, and Cullen pulled her into an embrace, lowering her down to the bedroll, ignoring her burning body, the sweat slicking skin. “I’m not ready,” she sobbed, entire body shaking violently in his arms. “I don’t want to die.”

Cullen thought he would break at those words. She had just wanted to help, use her abilities for her friend, for the Inquisition, and now, because of an accident, those abilities were killing her.

But Cullen grasped onto the last scraps of hope that he could, to keep himself from falling apart when Naomi needed him to stay together. She had come through the Fade and survived. She could survive this.

She fell asleep with no warning, and Cullen couldn’t bring himself to disturb her, not when this was the last night he might ever spend with her…

But he didn’t spend the night alone, as James entered the tent and leaned against a pack in the corner. Cullen didn’t mind the company.

In the morning, Cullen regretted letting her sleep.

It took several minutes to drag her into wakefulness, and when she finally opened her eyes, Cullen felt his stomach drop as if it were suddenly filled with stones.

Her eyes were leaking glowing, fade-touched green, the color extending beyond the borders of her irises, pulsing with unearthly light…

She clutched his arms. “I can’t see…” she mumbled, voice thick from sleep and fever. “Cullen…”

Terrified, Cullen turned toward James. “Go get Cassandra and Solas and Vivienne..”

James blinked, nodded, then ran from the tent, shouting into the still morning air. Cullen looked back at Naomi, brushing strands of damp hair from her sweaty face. “Cullen,” she repeated, her breaths coming shorter, her hand weakly grasping for his arm. “Hurts…”

“We’re going to help,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Just hold on.”

_Maker please, hold on, I’m going to help you…_

The tent opened, and dim light filled the light as Solas entered, casting magic to illuminate the interior. The elf knelt at Naomi’s side, peering into her eyes. “She can’t see,” Cullen said. James and Vivienne followed a moment later, and Cullen could hear the others stirring outside.

Solas shook his head. “We should have attempted to remove this days ago. Who knows what damage this will do…”

“Just get it out!” James said. “It’s going to do more if it stays in her.”

Naomi’s grip had weakened, entirely, and Cullen feared she was already nearly gone…

“I’ll need a knife,” he said breathlessly, relieved to see Cassandra squeezing her way into the crowded tent.

Vivienne frowned. “You are in no state to do this, Commander.”

And Cullen realized he was shaking, his heart racing and adrenaline building in his body. Normally, tense situations would focus him, but not now…

“I will do it,” Vivienne said simply, knife already in hand.

Cullen nodded.

And then he looked around again, realizing they were ready. Cassandra was already focusing, drawing on her power to cast a purge. Vivienne was there, preparing to cut into Naomi’s body…

But Cullen wasn’t ready. Not even close. He hadn’t had enough time, to tell Naomi everything he felt, to love her one last time…

Vivienne was pulling back the bedroll, exposing the amulet centered in Naomi’s chest, and more, as she was still undressed from sleep. But no one seemed to notice her nakedness as Cassandra prepared to separate her from the Fade, send her toward one death so they could save her from another.

Cullen wanted to shout no, to stop them from moving forward. At least until he could kiss her one last time, say he loved her…

“I don’wan’ itto be dark…” Naomi mumbled, so softly Cullen barely heard. But it was her voice. She wasn’t gone yet.

And then Solas gripped her hand. “Naomi,” he said gently. “I’m going to send you into the Fade. I will meet you there and stay with you. It won’t be dark.”

But Naomi didn’t respond, her head rolling to the side, brows pulled into a deep frown. Cullen felt himself starting to cry. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that this could be it…

Solas placed a hand on her forehead, and Cullen saw her jaw slacken, her brow smooth…

She was asleep, in the Fade. He may never see her again…

“I didn’t say goodbye!” James yelled at Solas. “Why did you…?” The other man’s eyes were shining, and he didn’t look angry, just despairingly helpless.

Cullen felt the same. He hadn’t told her he loved her, how much she meant to him…

Solas stood, moving to leave the tent. “The sooner we remove the amulet, the more likely she will survive.” The elf looked at Vivienne. “You will only have moments to remove the amulet once her abilities are gone.” Then he pulled a vial of lyrium from a pocket and handed it to the other mage. “Use this to wake her. I must find her in the Fade.”

The elf left, and then Cassandra said quietly, “I’m ready.”

_I’m not ready!_ Cullen wanted to scream. _I’m not ready to lose her…_

But Naomi wasn’t gone yet. He couldn’t despair…

Cassandra moved to Naomi’s side, and Vivienne backed nearly out of the tent, behind Cassandra to avoid the purge.

Cullen swallowed, taking one last moment to take in Naomi’s features, every curve and freckle and scar…

Every nerve in his body was coiled to fight, but there was nothing he could do. So the tension just built inside, settling in his shoulders, his neck, his head…

“Cullen,” Cassandra said quietly.

He tore his eyes away and looked to Cassandra.

He took a deep breath, and nodded.

Cassandra whispered a few words, extended a hand, and then nodded. “It’s done.”

Cullen looked to Naomi, and he could see that her breathing was already more shallow, her skin already growing pale…

She was dying.

And then Vivienne returned, kneeling over Naomi, blade hovering above her exposed skin…

Cullen watched as she brought the blade to Naomi’s skin, red blood welling where she sliced into her now vulnerable body.

Cullen started to pray.


	93. Dying

She was in the Fade. She no longer ached, no longer burned, no longer hurt. She could see.

But Naomi felt no relief. Instead, the panic that had started the moment she opened her eyes back in the tent flared.

She was in the Fade. They were going to remove her abilities, cut her off from the Fade.

And she hadn’t said goodbye.

She hadn’t even been able to _see_ Cullen. See James…

She was in the Fade, and they were going to cut them off from her…

She closed her eyes and sought the thread that would guide her back to her body, back so she could at least tell them she loved them…

It was there, but it was slick, and she couldn’t get a good hold. It had been like that for the last few nights, a struggle to wake up. And now, it was nearly impossible.

She frowned, concentrated every thought, every piece of her mind on that link, on solidifying it, clawing her way toward that itch that would lead her back to them…

“Naomi? What are you doing?”

It was Solas. But Naomi didn’t open her eyes, pulling even harder on that thread. “I have to get back. I’m not ready…”

And then it snapped, disappeared, and Naomi opened her eyes with a gasp.

It was gone. The itch, the way back. She was in the Fade and they were back there, and she couldn’t reach them.

She might never reach them.

Naomi started to shake, sank to the ground as she lost the strength in her legs. It had happened so fast, too fast. She had barely left the Fade before she was back, hadn’t been able to see or feel anything beyond the pain and the fever...

She curled around herself, felt tears building in her eyes. They had cut her off from the Fade. She was dying.

“Naomi,” Solas said gently. “Try not to despair…”

“Please,” she whispered, tears falling hot from her eyes, running down her cheeks. “I can’t…”

_How long has it been? How long have been like this? Am I dead already…?_

_No. I can’t think like this. They’ll get it out. It will finally be over…_

But every second that passed pushed her closer to falling completely apart. She hadn’t said goodbye. She hadn’t even been able to see them…

“Naomi.”

She shook her head.

She was going to die.

They weren’t going to get the amulet out.

_No! I can’t think like that!_

_They’ll help me. Cullen and James will do everything they can. And so will everyone else. I trust them to do this…_

But she just didn’t know. They could try everything and still fail.

It terrified her.

She couldn’t die. This couldn’t be the end. She couldn’t accept that she would never see Cullen or James or Nassella again.

Her chest would not stop aching. She thought perhaps it _might_ have been better to not come to the Fade at all. Then she wouldn’t have had to sit in this uncertainty, thinking about dying…

_No, no, no! I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine…_

She _had_ to believe she would be fine.

But how long had it been? One minute? Two? How long would it take for her to die? If she had stopped breathing, she would only have minutes before permanent damage was done to her body. Would she even know when it happened?

“You’re not dead,” Cole whispered. Naomi hadn’t even realized he had come.

But of course he had, because he was Compassion and she was in pain.

And she wasn’t dead.

She wasn’t dead. There was time. She had to hold onto herself, onto hope. Cullen hadn’t given up yet. James hadn’t.

But more seconds passed and nothing changed. Naomi hugged her legs, tried to hold back her tears.

_Please God, not yet. I’m not ready. There’s more I want to do. I want to grow old and have a family and find out if lyrium is alive and get married and kiss Cullen…_

_Cullen. I have to see him again!_

_This can’t be the end. Please, please, please…_

“How are they fairing?” Solas murmured after another moment.

It had been too long. Something should have happened…

But she wasn’t dead yet. Cole would say something if she was.

And then the spirit responded, “Not well.”

_Not well._

Naomi couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond _no, no, no!_ She tried to picture Cullen and James, but their faces wouldn’t focus.

She hadn’t said goodbye.

Her throat was closed shut, so Naomi just screamed with her thoughts; _I love them. Tell them I love them!_

It wasn’t going well, and she was going to die.

If felt like it had been an eternity. It was impossible to come back from this…

And then a light flared in her mind, she felt a tug on her entire body, pulling her in every direction. She felt herself slipping away from the ground of the Fade, her very existence diminishing with each passing second.

She tensed, willed herself to still, dropped her hands to the ground as if gripping the tenuous manifestation of the Fade would anchor her in place, keep her from slipping away…

“Let go,” Cole encouraged her.

But she couldn’t, had to fight the urge every fiber in her body had to fly toward whatever was calling her away. It hadn’t been going well and now she was dead.

If she let go, she would be gone for good.

“It will be all right,” Cole insisted.

Of course it would be all right, part of Naomi knew. She would see her parents, her siblings. She would never hurt again.

But she would be dead.

And part of her wasn’t sure _what_ would happen, where she would go, and it terrified her.

More than any demon she had ever fought. More than any man who had ever attacked her. More than the thought of ever killing another person again.

Her body wrenched, and Naomi could no longer hold herself in place, couldn’t fight whatever was pulling her away. Her eyes were shut, but she felt herself falling from the Fade, felt the pieces of herself yanked apart.

She screamed.

 

\-----

 

Naomi opened her eyes, golden light blinding her, engulfing her, obscuring everything she might possibly see…

But her body… She felt everything. Vividly. The hard packed earth beneath her back, softened by layers of fur and cloth and straw, rough fabric draping over her legs and waist, scratching her skin. Electricity raising the hairs on her body, coursing beneath her skin, causing her muscles to flare, jump, and urge her to move.

And pain. Centered on her chest and throbbing with every beat of her racing heart, with every shallow breath. And running across her chest, between her breasts and down her sides, was something slick and warm…

Her tongue was coated with a cool metallic film, the sharp smell of blood and magic assaulted her nose.

“Maker thank you.”

“Thank God.”

It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

She wasn’t dead.

Naomi started to cry, and as she blinked through the tears, she started to see, vague shadows that materialized into Vivienne’s face, shining slightly with sweat. To her side was Cullen, hair and eyes shining just as golden as the light.

Golden hair that was streaked with red, more crimson smeared on his forehead, on his temples and cheek.

Blood. Her blood.

She cried harder, but not because of the blood.

She was alive and she could see him…

Naomi reached for Cullen, the lyrium urging her into motion like it had that first time she took it and saw Cullen in front of her. But this time she could actually touch him…

And he moved in response, his hand, coated with blood, grasped her neck, and he breathed deeply as he crushed her lips to his. The feel of him sent sparks through her heightened senses, and she gasped. Cullen immediately filled the space with his tongue.

She was alive and she could kiss Cullen again…

But the pain in her chest flared when Cullen tried to pull their bodies together, and she groaned into his kiss, his tongue dragging along the roof of her mouth.

“I need to heal her, Commander,” Vivienne said firmly, and Naomi felt her shoulder pushed back to the ground. Her lips pulled away from Cullen’s, and she looked into his eyes, opened wide and still staring at her mouth. He licked his lips and swallowed thickly. His hand still gripped her neck, a little too tightly.

The lyrium. She could still taste it in her own mouth. It wasn’t the same as what Templar’s took, but it was close enough….

And then Cullen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relaxed his hold and relinquished her to Vivienne’s care.

Naomi looked down, stomach turning slightly at the amount of blood, realizing she was half naked.

Vivienne reached for her chest, and Naomi’s stomach flipped again.

“You didn’t get it out,” she whispered.

The amulet was still there, emerald glinting through the blood, surrounded on all sides by slashes in her skin, revealing muscle and bone. The lyrium must have been dulling the pain.

They hadn’t gotten it out.

Naomi didn’t understand. They had woken her up, but she felt… better than she had in days. Aside from the pain from the cuts, there was no nausea or shaking or voices…

“I’m afraid the metal had fused further into your sternum than we anticipated,” Vivienne said quietly, magic flowing from her fingers to the wounds around the amulet. Some of the pain subsided as flesh was knit back together, securing the amulet once more in her body. “We had to abort the attempt.”

“We had to wake you up,” James said, and when Naomi looked toward her brother she saw how pale he was, how scared, and by the blood on his own hands, she could tell he had made his own effort to help. “You weren’t breathing and it wouldn’t come out and we had to try something…” His jaw trembled. “We didn’t know if it would work.”

The lyrium _had_ worked though. It had woken her up.

But the amulet was still in her body.

How long could she continue like this?

Naomi’s heart raced, and panic once again started to course through her entire body. It couldn’t still be there. It _had_ to come out…

“You seem somewhat better at least,” Cassandra said from a far corner of the tent. “Your eyes are no longer leaking green.”

_Leaking green…?_

But even though she did feel better, Naomi felt tears falling down her face. It wasn’t over…

Solas ducked into the tent, and Naomi watched a frown pass over his face when he looked at her bloodied chest. She became acutely aware of her exposed breasts, and pulled the bedroll over her body.

“You were not able to remove it,” Solas stated simply, eyes still fixed on the amulet.

_They didn’t get it out…_

“No,” Vivienne responded. She produced a rag to begin cleaning the blood, her healing finished. Naomi’s skin was still raw, still sore, but there were no longer open wounds. “Though it seems the purge has exhausted the mana that had collected in her body.” Vivienne’s brown eyes peered into Naomi’s, and she nodded slightly in approval at whatever she saw. “Your symptoms will likely be reduced, at least for a time. But I’m afraid this will only be a temporary solution, my dear.”

Temporary. The vomiting would return. The shaking. The voices and the fever and the pain…

“Then we will purge the mana again,” Cassandra said.

The thought twisted Naomi’s stomach, imagining living her life in such a cycle. Slowly deteriorating over a matter of days, growing weaker and sicker until she couldn’t bear it any longer, then being cut off from the Fade with a purge, returned to her body with a surge of lyrium…

No one else seemed to like the idea either.

“We will continue exploring magical options,” Solas said. “And now we have gained time to return to Skyhold.”

 _Dagna_. Naomi trusted Dagna.

_I have time. I can handle the vomiting and the shaking and the voices again…_

But she didn’t want to. She just wanted it to be over.

“Then we should prepare to leave,” Cullen said gruffly. He had been silent since he’d kissed her, and though he’d seemed to calm after that taste of lyrium, Naomi didn’t like the hungry way he looked at her lips, at her face. What damage had been done with that kiss? What months of progress had been undone? “We can be back by tomorrow night if we hurry.”

Tomorrow. They had been so close.

But it hadn’t been enough, and she had almost died. Naomi was still crying and she couldn’t stop.

She had almost died.

 

\-----

 

Naomi collapsed barely halfway through packing up the camp, exhaustion sweeping through her entire body, her stomach achingly empty. The fever had burned through any reserves she had left after not eating in a week, and all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep. The lyrium had kept her going, and when it gave out, so did she.

Falling sent Cullen and James into near panic, both men still on edge after the morning’s failed surgery. But when Naomi made it clear she just needed food, needed to rest, they relaxed.

But only so far. After another examination from Vivienne, all their plans changed, and it was decided they would take a day for Naomi to recover what strength she could before they attempted travelling again. Neither James nor Cullen were happy with the decision to delay their return, but when Naomi managed to keep her first meal down in a week, they relented. Cullen erected their tent for her to sleep, and even though she was scared, Naomi couldn’t keep herself from quickly falling into the Fade.

For a moment she panicked, scrambling to find the link that would allow her to wake, relief washing through her when she found it, strong and present, a beacon guiding her back.

And she nearly started crying when she woke up, sometime in the late afternoon or early evening based on the light, with no blood or pain, Cullen at her side.

But the amulet was still there, vibrating gently in her bone, slowly collecting the mana that would eventually send her back into illness and toward death. Whatever solution the purge had created was only temporary, and Naomi only had days, hours even, of calm and relative comfort before she would fall back into the hell of the last few days.

“You’re awake,” Cullen said, relieved. Naomi sat up slowly. No nausea yet. No voices. No lightheadedness. “How was the Fade?”

“Less scary this time,” she said, looking into Cullen’s eyes. “I knew I could wake up. I wasn’t trapped…” Tears started slipping from her eyes with no warning, and she quickly wiped them away.

Trapped. She’d been trapped in the Fade, waiting to die…

Cullen took one of her hands in his, squeezing gently. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

Talk about how she had been cut off from everyone she loved, the life she had been building, known she was dying with nothing to do but wait, unsure that she would ever see him again…?

Her throat was aching, and she shook her head. “Not yet.”

A brief flicker of disappointment crossed Cullen’s face, but he nodded. “When you’re ready then,” he murmured softly.

Yes, when she was ready. But right now, Naomi wanted to think about anything other than what had happened that morning, what had been happening over the last few days. As it was, several of the most recent days were little more than a blur, a haze of aching and burning and fear…

“Are you really feeling better?” Cullen whispered after a moment. “Cassandra’s purge helped?”

Naomi swallowed. “For now, yes. But Vivienne’s right, it won’t last.” Soon it would all start again…

“It’s something, at least,” Cullen said, and his voice broke.

And Naomi looked at Cullen.

He’d washed the blood from his face, from his hair, but he looked terrible. Dark circles had settled beneath his eyes, and she suspected the frown hadn’t left his face in days. Pain lurked behind his eyes, showed in the set of his shoulders, and the hand holding hers was trembling slightly…

She wasn’t the only one who had nearly lost a loved one. But if she died, her pain would be over…

But not Cullen’s. Not James’s.

But she was still alive. She _hadn’t_ died. And she wouldn’t die. It wasn’t ideal, but there was _something_ that could keep her alive.

“I’ll have to be around a Templar for the rest of my life,” Naomi said, pushing away the thought of dealing with the amulet like this forever. “And not just a former Templar either,” she added, squeezing the hand holding hers, along with an attempt at a smile that quickly disappeared.

Cullen’s hand had started to tremble more violently, had started to grow slick with sweat. And he didn’t smile at her attempt at a joke, only frowned deeper and closed his eyes.

She hadn’t seen him look like this in weeks…

“Cullen,” she said gently, moving herself closer despite her own aching fatigue. “What’s wrong?”

Cullen let out a long sigh. “The lyrium,” he admitted gruffly.

Naomi’s breath caught. The lyrium. She’d worried what it would do to him…

“It was just a small taste,” Cullen continued. “Not even enough to… to do anything. But I’ve been c _raving_ it all day…”

“Cullen, I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” he said. Then he opened his eyes and looked into hers. But he looked away a second later. “I was the one who kissed you,” he said. “I should have known the lyrium would still be there…” Then he covered his eyes, a shudder passing through his body. “Once I started, I didn’t want to stop kissing you,” he admitted. “And it wasn’t… wasn’t to kiss _you._ I tasted that lyrium and wanted to lick every last drop from your mouth…”

“It’s all right…”

He shook his head, eyes once again meeting hers, and staying this time. “It’s not all right,” he croaked. “I didn’t care that you were injured. I didn’t think about the wounds still open on your chest, the fact that you were still bleeding and likely in pain. I was so… so _relieved_ when you woke up, and I _had_ to kiss you, because I hadn’t gotten a chance before you were gone…” He swallowed thickly. “But after all these months, after living this long without lyrium, one taste was all it took and nothing else mattered. You… you didn’t matter anymore…” Tears slipped out of his eyes.

Naomi moved until she could wrap her arms around Cullen, press her face into any part of his now too-warm body. “I understand,” she whispered. “And I’m not upset or angry. That’s all I meant.” Another shudder passed through him, but his arms pulled her closer, held them together.

“I was so scared I would lose you,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m still scared…”

“Me too,” Naomi murmured back, tears falling down her cheeks and into his tunic.

But while she had almost died, was still in pain, so were others. Cullen had been living with pain for over a year. James almost died all the time. She’d s _een_ him almost die.

But they lived without falling apart, without constantly being afraid. Naomi remembered how she had reacted in the Fade that morning. She didn’t want to let herself come so close to falling apart again.

“Let me make you some tea,” she said, pulling away slightly. He really was far too warm.

But Cullen wouldn’t let her go. “I can make it, you need to rest,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. His breaths fell soft and warm against her lips.

But he didn’t kiss her, and Naomi knew he was afraid.

So she kissed him instead. The lyrium was long gone, and he needed to know s _he_ wasn’t afraid…

It started slow, their lips barely grazing one another. Naomi didn’t push, let Cullen move in cautiously, testing that the cool metallic tang of the lyrium was really gone, that the only thing he would taste would be her…

But when he decided that it was safe, all caution disappeared, and Naomi found herself pressed to the ground, his tongue pushing between her lips, past her teeth, exploring the ridges and curves of her mouth, his body pressed lightly against hers.

Her heart raced, heat flared between her legs, and Naomi wanted to rip the clothes from Cullen’s body, do the same with her own, and love him like she had feared she never would again…

And by the way Cullen stiffened against her thigh, groaned into their kiss, she knew he wanted the same.

But the fluttering of her heart was sending less pleasant vibrations emanating from the amulet, a twisting to start in her stomach. She remembered the stable back in Orlais, became acutely aware of the weakness in her limbs when she attempted to wrap a leg around Cullen, and knew they couldn’t do anything more than kiss.

Even kissing would likely be too much.

So she pulled her lips away from his, gently held his shoulders back with a hand. He looked into her eyes, and the love and longing contained in his made her heart ache.

He seemed to understand why she had stopped, and quickly propped himself away from her. But he didn’t try to hide the pain when he said, “I hope this amulet won’t always keep me from making love to you.”

Neither did Naomi. But she would have hope. She ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll find a way,” she whispered.

 

* * *

 

Leliana, Vivienne, and Varric had gone ahead, the ambassador and spymaster already gone from Skyhold for too long. Cassandra left to accompany them to the next nearest Inquisition post, planning to return before nightfall.

So that left James alone with Vivienne for most of the day. Naomi was sleeping, gaining strength, and Cullen was watching her. Solas had gone to the Fade as well, to keep his sister safe, and Cole had disappeared, whether to the Fade or elsewhere, James didn’t know.

James couldn’t remember a single conversation he had ever had with the enchanter, couldn’t remember saying more than a few words to her, ever. This trip back to Skyhold encompassed the majority of his dealings with the woman.

For much of the day, James worked around the camp, avoiding her, keeping his mind and hands busy. He gathered firewood, checked the horses for obvious signs of distress. He went through the gear, repaired, cleaned, and organized what he could. He tended to his weapons, then his armor, and walked the perimeter more times than he could keep track of. When the sun began to approach the horizon, he started cooking a meal.

That, however, brought him right next to Vivienne, the mage having spent her day sitting near the fire.

As James waited for water to boil, Vivienne turned to him.

“James darling, would you tell me how you and your sister came to be fade-touched again? I have been given a general description, but perhaps some detail will provide a better indication of how to help Naomi.”

James sat back on his heels, frowning into the fire.

He tried not to think about what he had seen in the Fade, about what had happened to him and his siblings. To his parents. But maybe it could be useful. Maybe something could be gleaned from those memories that would keep him from ever having to see his sister opened up while she slowly died in front of him again.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure _when_ it happened. But we were hiking back on Earth when we were pulled into the Fade by this rift that opened up…”

“You were in the Fade?” Vivienne asked, eyebrows raised above her dark eyes.

“Yes…” James said.

“I was told a rift simply opened near you and your sister. I was not told you were ever physically in the Fade.” Then she frowned. “And what is ‘Earth’?”

James gaped, but he realized that Vivienne didn’t know where they were from…

And he couldn’t talk himself back now.

Vivienne’s sharp gaze was fixed on James, and he found himself telling her everything.

“Naomi and I aren’t from Thedas,” he explained. “We’re not even from this world. Our home is called Earth, and there aren’t any elves or dwarves or Qunari there. And there isn’t any magic either. But it’s connected by the Fade, and when the Breach opened, it opened a rift on our side that pulled Naomi and I into the Fade…” he swallowed. “Actually, it pulled our entire family, but we’re the only ones who survived. We… we didn’t remember what happened to us at first, but when I was in the Fade at Adamant, I regained my memories. We were in the Fade for days before we found another rift that led us here…”

Vivienne stared at him while he talked, expression unreadable, but when he finished, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Everyone else knows about this?”

“Um… most everyone. Sera might not…”

Vivienne frowned, then let out a small, disapproving, sigh. “I need you to tell me everything you remember occurring while you were in the Fade.”

When Naomi and Cullen emerged from their tent, dinner was ready, Cassandra had returned, and Vivienne had a new plan.

She waited until Solas had approached from his own tent before explaining.

“Were you aware that James and Naomi drank the water while they were in the Fade?”

Solas paused, then slowly sank onto a log. “No, I was not,” he said, resting his hand on his chin.

“You drank water from the Fade?” Cullen sputtered, turning toward Naomi. She frowned, and shook her head.

“I don’t remember anything about being in the Fade. Only James does.”

All eyes turned toward him. “I don’t really like thinking about it,” he grumbled. “But I told Vivienne, and she thinks that’s why we’re fade-touched.” Then he sighed. “At the very least, it’s probably done s _omething_ to us.”

“I agree,” Solas said thoughtfully. “Though I would have expected c _onsuming_ an aspect of the Fade to be fatal…” He turned a critical eye toward James. “What about David?”

James’s stomach flipped. “He… refused to drink anything…”

He looked toward Naomi, and watched her eyes go wide. “Do you think… think he died because he _didn’t?_ ”

No. That couldn’t be it.

Because if it was, if James had just pushed harder, been a better example…

“Perhaps,” Vivienne said. “But your brother was also unconscious before you left the Fade. It’s possible that played a role. I’m afraid we may never know.”

Naomi was frowning, eyes shining in the light of the fire. Cullen slipped his arm around her waist.

“I have studied James’s body in some detail,” Vivienne continued, “and several anomalies make greater sense in light of this revelation. I initially approached your abilities believing they were a result of a too-close brush with the Veil. However, I believe pieces of the Fade have been incorporated into your very bodies.”

“How does this help you?” Cullen asked. “Have you thought of a way to remove the amulet?”

Vivienne stood and crossed to sit next to Naomi. She gently took Naomi’s pale hand in her own dark one. Magic sparked across Naomi’s skin, dancing with blues and purples and greens. “I still do not know how to remove the amulet with magic. However…” More magic danced. “I have previously attempted to remove the mana from her body, and I could never succeed because Naomi is not a mage, and the techniques used to access a mage’s mana would not work. Knowing now that her body holds the very Fade within, I considered that the mana could be accessed with a different approach, perhaps by altering a spell that traditionally accesses the Fade directly for energy.” Vivienne used her magic one more time, then dropped her hand. “I am afraid, my dear, that it may still take some time to successfully alter such a spell.”

“Even if it works, she’ll need to have someone remove the mana every day or two,” Cullen said.

“That’s better than being knocked out by a Templar that often,” Naomi whispered.

“And we do not yet know if such a spell will work,” Solas offered. But he nodded. “Still, I believe Vivienne has found a promising lead. I myself often draw mana from the Fade, and will focus on finding a solution using those spells.”

“Thank you,” Naomi said to Vivienne, then looked at Solas, then Cassandra. “All of you. I… don’t know how to repay any of you for helping me…”

“There is no need, my dear,” Vivienne said with a small shake of her head.

“And you are still far from healed,” Cassandra said. “So we will continue to help however we can.”

James watched Naomi try to smile, then wipe a sleeve across her cheek.

Yes, she was far from healed.

And he ached, thinking of how she had looked that morning, how sick she had been the last few days.

He had almost lost her.

But while still obviously weak, she looked so much better, and James sighed with relief when she ate an entire helping of food, and it stayed in her stomach.

If the mana could somehow be managed, she could be all right. The pressure to remove the amulet was not gone, but it no longer felt like failing would be a death sentence.

James felt a little less helpless, and knowing these people would help her…

He didn’t know how he would ever repay them either.


	94. Blue

They had entered the Frostback Mountains by the end of the next day, and Naomi was back to vomiting.

James could hardly stand it, and the goodwill he had felt toward everyone the morning before faded every time she scrambled from her horse to empty her stomach.

And though James knew the evidence was slim, that no one else, including Naomi, blamed the elf, James could not shake the feeling that Solas was somehow to blame. It was irrational, but James was worried and angry and needed to direct those feelings toward something…

One day. She had only had one day of rest, one day to even attempt to regain her strength before it started again. But every time she finished emptying her stomach she just wiped her mouth, rinsed away the bile with water, and hauled herself back on Liberty’s saddle.

Cullen quickly stopped her from working when they reached an Inquisition camp at the base of the trail a day’s travel from Skyhold, unloading Liberty’s saddle himself while she sat by a fire, arms wrapped around her legs, her head buried in her arms. James quickly joined her.

“Can I get you something?”

She raised her head to look at him, her eyes gaunt. “Some water?”

James hurried to grab the canteen clipped to his saddle, returning it to her waiting hand. She slowly sipped at the liquid, sighing slightly when she was finished. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

James sat on the ground by her side. “It started up faster this time,” he whispered.

Naomi nodded. “I know.” She sighed again. “I can almost… _feel_ the mana collecting in my body, just building in my chest and below my skin… I just… wish there was a way _I_ could get it out, but I just… can’t. I don’t even know how to start to access it.”

“Too bad you’re not a mage.”

“For all we know, that would have its own problems.” She took another drink of water, then looked at him carefully, her green eyes bright. “James… promise me you won’t… do anything stupid if… if something happens to me.”

James frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Naomi said slowly, “is that you were going to attack Solas when this amulet got stuck in me. You can’t do that again, no matter what.”

James’s face flushed. “I’m not… I wouldn’t…” But he probably would. If she died, after he got past the initial shock of his grief…

He would want to _do_ something…

“Please James,” she whispered, her eyes starting to shine with tears. “This was an accident, nothing more. _No one_ could have anticipated this would happen… except for maybe me. So please, just… try not to be angry. About any of it, but especially if I don’t make it...”

James flared his nostrils. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to die,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” she insisted. “Things could change again.”

James resisted the urge to shake his head. She _wasn’t_ going to die. She _couldn’t_.

But he nodded instead, because she was looking at him so earnestly, so afraid of what he would do if she died… “Fine,” he muttered. “But you’re not going to die.”

She ran a hand through her hair, limp and greased with sweat. They had been travelling so long, and all needed a bath. “I… know,” she whispered. “I’m actually… more hopeful than I have been in days.” She swallowed. “I just want to be… more ready,” she continued, looking at him sadly. “I want to be sure you know I love you, and that… that you’ll be all right, no matter what happens to me. I didn’t get a chance to say those things yesterday.”

James swallowed. “Don’t worry, I know,” he said. “And I love you too.”

She gave him a small smile, then took another drink. “What are you going to do once we get back to Skyhold?”

The change in subject jolted him. “I don’t know. I haven’t really been thinking about that.”

“Sorry, I just thought we could talk about something other than…” she gestured toward her chest, covered with a high-buttoned tunic, “this.”

James ran a hand along his chin, covered in unruly scruff. “I need a shave,” he offered.

Naomi eyed his beard with a small smirk. “Yeah, you do. And a haircut.” She drank some more water.

James snorted. “You sound like mom.” Naomi’s smile turned sad, but she let out a single breathy laugh. Still, James regretted bringing up their mother. And Naomi really was nothing like her… “I don’t really know what I’ll do,” he said seriously. “Train, I suppose.” He stroked his scruff again.

Naomi studied him another moment. “Don’t you want to see Mayra?”

James frowned. He hadn’t thought about Mayra in… days. And she hadn’t been on his mind as he thought about returning to Skyhold…

That was bad. He knew it was bad. He was _sleeping_ with her…

“Yeah, I want to see her,” he told Naomi. But he’d paused for too long.

It was bad…

“Don’t worry about it. It’s been a stressful few days,” Naomi said quietly. “I know you haven’t really been thinking about getting back to Skyhold.”

“Yeah, I know,” James mumbled.

 

\----- 

 

That night, after hours of working with his magic, adjusting spells and runes, Solas found a way to access the mana in Naomi’s body.

When he was finished draining the energy, the light fading from where his hands held hers, Naomi smiled, brighter and wider than she had in over a week. The green glow of her eyes faded until they almost looked natural. “It worked,” she breathed.

Solas’s lips twitched. “I believe so, yes.”

And then Naomi threw her arms around Solas’s shoulders. The elf’s eyes opened wide, and his hands hovered a few inches away from her body. “Thank you,” Naomi choked, quickly pulling away, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m just so glad I won’t… won’t have to go through everything again…” Then she was turning to Cullen, hugging him, laughing when he pulled her into a kiss…

James stared at Solas. The elf had done it. He’d found a way to actually help his sister, a way to help that didn’t hurt her even more, didn’t require cutting her open…

Naomi’s arms were around James next, pulling him down slightly to her height as she reached to encircle his neck.

And he found himself laughing, tension that had been held in his shoulders and neck easing slightly as Naomi shook in his arms. _Something_ could be done. This wouldn’t kill her…

James retreated to his own tent that night, happy to give Naomi and Cullen the privacy they hadn’t had in days. Solas was entering his own tent at the same time, and when James noticed the elf, he found himself taking a few steps closer.

“Hey, Solas…”

The other man paused, his hand on the flap to his tent. “Yes?” he asked, and James bristled at the slight disdain contained within that single word.

James crossed his arms. “I just wanted to say thank you, for finding a way to help Naomi.”

Solas nodded. “Of course. I have never wanted to see your sister harmed because of her abilities.”

James knew that. Of course he knew that. The only reason she hadn’t been killed months before in the Fade was because of Solas…

Even if it was his fault to begin with.

But James didn’t know that for sure, and though he hated to admit it… Solas had probably helped Naomi more than himself during their time in Thedas.

“Is that all you wished to discuss?” Solas asked impatiently.

James almost left. But Naomi didn’t want him to be angry anymore, and honestly, he didn’t either.

So he let out a breath and said, “I don’t blame you for what happened to Naomi. Not really.”

“As you shouldn’t.”

This man was unbelievable…

“I’m just trying to say I don’t want to fight with you,” James grumbled.

“Do you want me to thank you for realizing something you should have already known? Should I thank you for deciding to spare me from your physical prowess? I assure you, I have never feared you would do me any harm.”

Anger flared through James, and he clenched his fists. Solas was so arrogant, so full of himself. He couldn’t just accept an apology like a normal person…

“I’ve already apologized,” James said, relaxing his hands. He really didn’t want to fight… “I’m just saying that it won’t happen again. So take it however you want, but I definitely don’t need your thanks.” He turned away.

James hated it. Hated that Solas was the one who could help Naomi when he could not.

But Naomi wanted him to stop fighting, so he would. He didn’t have to like it, but he was done.

 

\----- 

 

It was always strange to return to Skyhold. James didn’t spend enough time in the fortress for it to feel like home.

But when the fortress came into view at the top of the valley they were ascending, James thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. The last week had been more of an ordeal, more stressful than almost any other mission he had ever been on…

But it was bittersweet. In all their haste to reach Skyhold, a solution for Naomi had been found without it. Still, James could not help wondering, as he guided Echo along the steep mountain paths, if things would have been different if they had returned faster. Perhaps, if they had reached Skyhold sooner, Naomi wouldn’t have almost died…

It was nearly sunset by the time they passed beneath Skyhold’s stone gates, the crowds and sounds and smells nearly overwhelming after the relative solitude of the road. They dismounted in the yard, and James could almost track the word of their arrival spreading, as people abandoned their tasks to see them return.

Cullen was surrounded almost instantly, soldiers and Templars and messengers arriving with reports, with requests, with queries about orders. He tried to push them away, keep Naomi at his side, but he had been gone nearly a month and his responsibilities had not stopped simply because he was away.

James approached his sister, arriving to overhear her encourage Cullen to attend to his work. “I’m fine Cullen. I know you have work to do.”

Cullen shook his head. “It can wait until we talk to Dagna. I want to know what she has found…”

“Sir, these requisitions must be approved. We cannot order these supplies without your signature…”

“I have personal matters to see to,” Cullen told the officer with a frown. “These will just have to wait.”

James stepped forward. “I’ll go with Naomi to Dagna,” he told Cullen. But Cullen hesitated.

It was Naomi who finally pushed him toward his work. “I’ll be _fine_ Cullen. I don’t want you to ignore your duties because of me. I’ll go with James to Dagna and tell you what she says after. Ok?”

Cullen sighed, but nodded. “Fine. I’ll find you as soon as I am able.”

Naomi paused before they could enter the great hall, turning back to look over the courtyards, walls, and buildings within the fortress bathed in the golden light of the sunset. She crossed her arms and sighed. “I wasn’t sure I would ever see this place again,” she said quietly.

James nodded. Whatever he felt toward Skyhold, it had become home to Naomi. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re going to be all right.”

She sighed again. “Let’s see if Dagna has anything.”

Dagna had many things. Chief among them, curiosity and remorse.

It could almost have been comical, seeing the tiny dwarf jump between somberly listening as Naomi explained everything that had happened, the symptoms she had endured, their almost catastrophic attempt to remove the amulet, and her raw excitement and curiosity that bubbled out over the novelty of having fade-touched metal fused into a living body. Dagna couldn’t stop staring at the amulet melted into Naomi’s flesh, couldn’t stop touching it and asking questions, looking at the now permanent green glow of his sister’s eyes.

“I am so sorry!” Dagna kept exclaiming between questions. “If I had any idea this could happen, I would have found a way to work around these negative side effects…” She poked again at the amulet, Naomi wincing slightly at the motion.

“I know Dagna,” Naomi responded. “I don’t blame you at all. I should have told you how uncomfortable it was from the beginning.”

“That certainly would have been useful,” Dagna said, voice somehow permanently cheerful, even given the subject. “But then we never would have known this was possible…”

“Did you come up with a way to cut through her skin?” James asked impatiently, losing interest in Dagna’s curiosity.

Dagna beckoned them toward her workbench. “We’ll just have to see!” she said. “I’ve created knives from a number of substances that may work, enchanted some… unfortunately, without Naomi here to test them on, I’ve been working largely in the dark.”

Naomi sat on a stool and offered her hand for testing. “Well, hopefully you’ve stumbled on something.”

Dagna picked up the first knife, a slim blade made from a dark metal, and ran it gently over Naomi’s arm.

There was a small flash of green light and the dwarf yelped. The knife clattered to the ground.

“What happened?” Naomi asked, her eyes wide.

Dagna giggled, rubbing her hand. “There’s a bit more kick behind your abilities. That, or the knife reacted with your skin.”

But every knife was the same. None cut through Naomi’s skin, and all resulted in a shock sent back through Dagna’s hand. Even when James used a normal, unenchanted steel knife, he nearly dropped the blade when a brief, intense shock shot through his arm, cramping his hand and spurring his heart to race. “Shit!’ he exclaimed, nearly dropping the knife as he pulled away, fingers and arm tingling for several seconds. He looked at Naomi’s face. “Did you feel that?”

She shook her head. “I felt a surge of… something, but not a shock. It didn’t hurt.”

James looked to Dagna. “Any idea what that’s about?”

Dagna was poking Naomi’s hand with a blade, wincing every time it shocked her. “Well, if there’s more mana in your body because of the amulet, then I suppose it’s intensifying your abilities.” She scrunched her brow. “It might be even harder to find a way past your skin now.”

Disappointment swept across Naomi’s face and James felt it in his own heart. “Oh,” Naomi said softly.

“I’ll keep trying of course,” Dagna said quickly. Then she smiled. “I’ll just have to get more creative.”

Naomi nodded, and let out a long breath. “Thank you Dagna. I know it was a longshot to begin with. And since Solas found a way to drain the mana from my body, the symptoms can be managed… We’ll figure out how to work with this. It will be fine.”

Yes, her symptoms could be managed, but she would need to be around a mage for the rest of her life…

“I _do_ have something that will cheer you up!” Dagna chirped, grabbing Naomi’s hand and dragging her across the undercroft. James followed, still thinking about Naomi and how she could never be more than two day’s journey from a mage who knew who to drain the mana from her body, or from a Templar…

“Are you serious?!” Naomi exclaimed suddenly, and James focused on what Dagna was showing her. Naomi laughed, leaning to inspect a metal cylinder mounted on a stand. “Dagna, you are the most brilliant, wonderful, beautiful person I’ve ever met!”

 

* * *

 

A microscope. Dagna had made a microscope.

At least, it looked like a microscope. Naomi reached to touch the metal, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“You’ll have to test it, see if it’s what you wanted. But now that you’re back, I can make the final adjustments with your help.”

Naomi laughed. “Of course Dagna! I’m so excited!”

She had a microscope. A microscope! In Thedas! Everything that had happened the last couple of weeks flew to the back of her mind as she imagined the possibilities. Looking at bacteria, showing people here what caused disease, looking at pond water, and cells from plants and animals, lyrium…

Lyrium! She could finally find out if it was alive. Maybe then she could find a better way to treat withdrawal. Help Cullen…

“That’s pretty sweet,” James said, leaning closer to inspect the microscope.

“It’s perfect,” Naomi said. Dagna giggled.

“I’m glad I found the time to work on it while you were gone.”

“I’m so excited to show you cells!” Naomi said, looking to Dagna. “Once we get this working... I can show you the… the basic unit of life! The things that make up every living being…”

But despite her excitement, Naomi paused. She was not a microbiologist. She had worked with plants, with entire ecosystems… She knew about cells, knew the basics of working with the smallest aspects of life. But… there was even more she didn’t know, techniques she had never mastered….

But she had a microscope. And all of those others things…

She could figure it out. Experiment.

Her mind began to race. If she wanted to work with bacteria she needed medium for them to grow, ways to sterilize instruments, dyes for making cells visible, microscope slides…

And even more advanced techniques used to identify different types of bacteria, different species…

But that was so far beyond her experience, so far ahead of the knowledge that was even available. Naomi couldn’t do it all…

But she didn’t have to. She just needed to start. If others eventually used microscopes, realized the prevalence of bacteria, knew that all life was made up of cells… that knowledge would spread, would grow…

It could change everything. Not only the course of science, but the very future of Thedas. So much on Earth had changed once people realized the nature of life.

_I can’t get ahead of myself. There’s no certainty that things would really change that much…_

But they might, and it would be because of _her._ Did she really want to do this…?

_Yes. I had decided that before I even asked Dagna for help making a microscope. This is my home now, and I want to help. I want to change things for the better…_

“I’m excited to see everything!” Dagna exclaimed.

Naomi pulled the dwarf into a hug. “This is going to be awesome!”

 

\-----

 

Naomi followed James out of the undercroft, still smiling while she thought about the microscope. She couldn’t wait for the morning, when she could return with Dagna to see what adjustments needed to be made…

And then they reached the great hall, and were intercepted by Leliana.

“Did any of the blades Dagna construct work?” the spymaster asked, her blue eyes flicking over Naomi’s exposed arms.

Thoughts of the microscope scattered, along with Naomi’s excitement. For a few brief moments, she had been able to forget about the amulet…

“No, none of them worked,” James said. “Though, we found out Naomi’s skin gives off a shock when it’s hit now.” He flexed his hand. “It was actually kind of painful.”

“How intriguing,” Leliana said. “Perhaps some good can come of this amulet fusing with your body after all.”

Naomi frowned, but it was James who answered, “Yeah, I wouldn’t say that.”

“I am glad to hear Solas was able to find a way to more safely remove the mana,” Leliana continued, “and that you seem to be feeling better.”

“Well, I’ve actually had a chance to eat the last couple of days, so that’s helped,” Naomi said. But though she could keep food in her stomach, she was still tired and weak, reminded once again of how her stomach still ached slightly with hunger.

Leliana nodded, then handed James a piece of paper. “Then I hope James will consider travelling again. The Inquisitor has asked for aid, and I know she would want James to be among those who help.”

James took the paper with a frown, eyes quickly looking over the words. “I don’t know…” he said quietly. Naomi reached for the note. It was short, written in Nassella’s scratchy hand, a mix of English words and coded letters.

_Red lyrium source points to Emprise du Lion. Need all available help to remove. Will arrive by 12 Kingsway. Bring warm clothes._

_How is Naomi?_

_Nassella Lavellan_

Naomi looked to her brother. “You should go.”

“You’re still sick Naomi. I can’t leave…”

“Yes, you can,” Naomi insisted. “You don’t have to stay with me until I’m completely better. I mean… that may never happen, so don’t… don’t feel like you have to choose between me and helping Ness.”

“I want to stay with you.”

Naomi handed him the note. “But I know you also want to help Ness. And _I_ don’t want you to change everything about your life because of this.” Her life might be completely changed, but James didn’t need to… “If any part of you wants to go, then do it. I’ll understand. Ness is the one who needs you more than me.”

James’s eyebrows wouldn’t stop moving, as he alternated between frowning and smoothing his brow. But Naomi knew he wanted to go…

And then he nodded. “Ok… if you’re sure you’ll be all right…”

Naomi smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

 

\-----

 

Naomi’s things had been brought back to her room, and a number of candles had been lit.

She closed the door quietly behind her and hauled the bags toward her bed. But she only opened them enough to pull out the bag containing her brushes and soap. She removed her travel-stained and dirty clothes, found a clean set of underclothes, then moved to the vanity to prepare for bed. Fresh water had been brought with her luggage, and Naomi reached for a rag to try and clean the grime from the road away.

But she paused, catching from the corner of her eye her reflection in the small mirror propped against the wall.

She lowered the rag back into the water, staring at her reflection, frowning at what she saw.

She had never gotten a good look at the amulet, only able to see a view from her periphery when glancing down at her chest. She knew it would look bad…

But she hadn’t expected _this._ Naomi reached for the mirror, then slowly sat cross-legged on the ground. She brought a hand to gently touch the metal in her body.

If it were simply a diamond of silver centered on her chest, it might not be so bad. But though the amulet had sunk until it was flush with her body, it hadn’t gone cleanly. The amulet had been distorted as it melted, and the skin around the edges was red and scarred, a slight bump where skin met metal left behind by those initial moments of burning.

But worse were the scars left by their attempt to remove the amulet. Vivienne had healed the cuts almost immediately, but magic couldn’t entirely keep scars from forming, and the ones left behind on Naomi’s chest extended at least an inch beyond the points of the amulet, framed every edge, crossed over one another, leaving a tangle of white, raised lines…

Naomi felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes, and quickly looked away from the mess of her chest. But it was her eyes that she saw next, and Naomi felt her throat close.

She hadn’t gotten a good look at her eyes either. People kept saying they glowed…

There was no trace of blue left, only the green. A green that was not the result of any natural pigment, green that shone with a light that came from no natural source…

It was the color David’s eyes had been right before he died.

They were no longer her eyes. Her eyes had been the same color as her father’s. Everything else about her face had been from her mother, but not her eyes…

Naomi was still on the ground, staring at her altered appearance, when Cullen knocked softly on the door.

“Naomi?” he asked as he cracked the door open.

Naomi blinked. “Yeah, I’m here,” she said, realizing that a few tears had fallen down her cheeks. She quickly used the back of her hand to wipe them away, lowering the mirror to the ground.

“There’s so much to do,” Cullen said wearily as he closed the door. “I was barely able to scratch the surface of the work that has piled up.” His footsteps scuffed across the floor. “I talked to Leliana on the way over. She said Dagna had not found a way to remove the amulet.”

“No, she didn’t,” Naomi said. “And she thinks the amulet will make it even more difficult to get past my skin.” Forever. This is what her body would look like forever…

Cullen’s steps paused. “I’m sorry Naomi,” he said quietly. “I know you hoped Dagna would have a solution.”

“She’s going to keep looking.” Maybe it wouldn’t be forever. Maybe something could still be done.

“Are you feeling all right?” Cullen asked next.

It didn’t matter if it was forever. She shouldn’t care, not about this. She should just be grateful to be alive…

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, wiping the moisture once more from her face. She rose to her feet, head spinning for a few seconds.

“Something’s wrong,” Cullen said worriedly. His hand found her shoulder. “What is it? Are you hurting? Should I find Solas? Vivienne?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, blinking away more tears. She couldn’t look at him. How could he stand to look at her eyes? They no longer looked human…

He ran his hand gently across her cheek, tilted her head up. But she refused to look at him, self-conscious of how her chest was displayed…

But then he whispered, “Naomi look at me. Please.”

She did, and his golden gaze filled with concern. “It’s stupid,” she whispered back. She shouldn’t care…

Cullen shook his head, his thumb wiping away another loose tear. “I doubt it.” His hand rested gently on her neck. “Tell me.”

Naomi swallowed, her eyes burning. “I didn’t realize how different I looked,” she whispered. “This green is just… wrong. And the amulet… I didn’t realize how ugly it was…” And it _was_ stupid. Saying it out loud made it so obvious…

Something like pain crossed Cullen’s face. “Nothing about you is ugly,” he said softly.

Naomi closed her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Not over this. Not over looks…

Cullen wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulled her against his body. Naomi held him back and took a deep breath, the scent of his sweat strong after days of travel, warming all the corners of her body.

_It doesn’t matter. I’m alive, I can hold Cullen…_

But it was still big and ugly and stuck to her body, prominently displayed. Even her eyes looked unnatural enough to be unsettling. People would look, just because it was strange…

“How am I going to explain it to anyone who asks?” she mumbled into his neck. “My eyes don’t even look human anymore.”

Cullen sighed. “I don’t know. Just say it was a… magical mistake.”

Despite herself, Naomi’s lips quirked up in a grin. “Or a… magical mishap.”

Cullen’s soft chuckle finally dispelled the last prickles of tears in her eyes. “A magical malfunction, perhaps?”

The laugh that burst past Naomi’s lips surprised her, but she didn’t fight it. She pulled back enough to look back at Cullen’s face, glad to see at least some of the pain was gone. “A magical meltdown,” she suggested.

Cullen’s answering smile was sad. “Yes, I suppose that would be a way to put it.” His eyes glanced down, to her chest. His hand shifted slightly, grazed her shoulder, fingers playing across the raised bone of her collar bone. She watched his face, at the small frown that pulled his eyebrows together as he continued to inspect the amulet.

“You can touch it,” she said quietly.

Cullen’s hand stilled. “I… are you sure?”

Naomi nodded. “You’ll have to touch it eventually.” Her skin shivered slightly as Cullen traced his fingers across the dip of her clavicle, down her sternum, feathered across the highest of the scars…

He gently caressed her scarred skin, ghosted his fingertips over the metal, across the gem. “Does it hurt?” he whispered.

“No,” Naomi said, resisting the urge to pull away from the tickle of his fingers. “It just feels… tight.”

Cullen nodded. “It’s warm,” he said next. “And it… vibrates?”

“Yes,” Naomi responded.

“And Dagna can’t remove it?”

“No. Not yet at least.”

He leaned in, slowly, and Naomi held her breath as he gently placed a kiss on the amulet, a small shock shooting through her body at the touch. Then his hand moved to cup her jaw, and he kissed her lips, gently pressed against her for a long, slow embrace. When he finally pulled back his eyes met hers, overflowing with love. “You’re beautiful Naomi. Nothing could change that. I don’t care what it looks like, or what color your eyes are. I almost lost you…” He swallowed, his hand shaking slightly. “I only care that you’re alive, that there is a way to keep you from being ill. Nothing else matters.”

She loved him, so much. And he was right. She was alive. Nothing else mattered.

She kissed him again, careful to hold back. As much as she wanted to, they couldn’t do any more than that. She was already lightheaded, exhausted. Maybe in the morning…

Cullen still resisted when she pulled away. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to worry about.”

“No, it’s not,” Cullen murmured. “Things have changed. It will take some time to adjust.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But you don’t have to do any of it alone. I’ll help however I can.”

Yes, she would adjust. She would get used to how she looked, the eyes and the amulet. And she would get used to the extra mana, going to a mage at least once a day to have it removed. It wasn’t ideal, but nothing about her life over the past year and a half had been ideal.

“Thank you,” she told Cullen. “This is… easier because of you.” She reached to stroke his jaw, looked into his eyes, allowed herself to feel better about the unearthly glow of her own when he didn’t look away. “Everything is.”

 

\-----

 

That night in the Fade, Serenity made her first appearance in over a week.

But the spirit didn’t approach. No, the deer just looked on from a distance, then bounded away the moment Naomi took a step forward.

Naomi understood. She was not at peace, and the spirit wouldn’t want to be around her in this state. She only hoped it wouldn’t last, that soon her emotions would settle enough for the spirit to return.

She thought it was a good sign that the spirit had shown up at all.

Naomi began to wander, reacquainting herself with the Fade around Skyhold, discovering the differences. She thought everything seemed a little more colorful, a little clearer, the dreams she passed shining brighter. She came across a trio of wisps, swirling and dancing around each other. But when they noticed her they stopped, and when she moved on, they followed, bumping against each other and walls while they flitted along.

She was debating whether she should try and lose them when Solas arrived, causing the wisps to scatter. She was surprised to see the elf, having thought he would spend his time in the Fade alone, now that they had returned to the safety of Skyhold.

But there he was, his hands behind his back, watching her with serious gray eyes.

“Is… something the matter?” Naomi asked, uneasily looking around. Maybe it wasn’t as safe as she had assumed.

“Not presently,” Solas said. “However, I worry that could change. Your presence in the Fade has been altered by the amulet. You are more prominent, more solid, and I believe you will attract more attention while you are here. And your encounter with the demon on the road demonstrated that while prepared to handle most demons, you could very well find yourself facing an opponent beyond your experience.”

Naomi frowned, thinking of those wisps excitedly following her around. And that demon had pulled her into the Fade… “I was caught off guard with that demon. I… didn’t even realize I was in the Fade.” But if that happened again…

“That in itself is a problem,” Solas said. “You cannot afford to be caught off guard in the Fade, not for a moment. It was nearly disastrous once, and I will not always be there to help you.”

Naomi wrapped her arms around her body. “I know that,” she said. Whatever demon she had been fighting had been far more powerful than anything she had fought before. She hadn’t been able to kill it. It had just kept coming… “But I don’t know what else I can do. Daggers and arrows can only do so much against a demon like that. It’s not like I can use magic.”

A staff appeared in Solas’s hands. Naomi lowered her own. “I do not wish to see you harmed. You will attract more attention going forward, and you must be prepared. I would like to help you.”

Naomi eyed the staff in his hands. “How?”

“Confidence, for a start. Yours was shaken by that demon, but you must trust in your own capabilities. And you must keep your head. You could have escaped had you known where you were, what was happening. You were vulnerable because you were afraid. You cannot allow that to happen again.”

“I know,” Naomi said quietly. Even when they were trying to remove the amulet, she had nearly fallen apart. If Solas and Cole hadn’t been there… she had been a sitting duck, ripe in those moments for a demon to find her, try to make a deal, possess her. It _couldn’t_ happen again. And not just for her own sake. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for Cullen’s sake. She had _promised_ him it would never happen. She looked back to Solas. “What do you have in mind?”

“Further training,” Solas suggested. “You still have room to improve.”

“I… can’t,” Naomi said. “Not with my physical body. It’s too weak, after everything. And I can’t raise my heartrate without feeling ill…” It would keep her from fighting, from running up a flight of stairs, from being with Cullen…

“In the Fade, then,” Solas said. “Continue training here as you have before. This is where your ability to fight will be most important.” He twirled his staff. “And you are a Dreamer. Magic or no, you can shape the Fade with your will. That could prove to be a valuable weapon.”

Naomi nodded, the familiar weight of a quiver and bow settling across her shoulders, matched by the feel of a dagger at her hip.

She had felt helpless in the Fade the past week, almost died. And how many times had Solas saved her? She _couldn’t_ handle herself. Not against everything.

But she wanted to. She might have to rely on a mage to remove the mana from her body, but she didn’t want to rely on Solas to forever protect her in the Fade.

“Let’s get started then.”

 

\-----

 

Naomi woke to find Cullen leaning over her, gently stroking the hair from her face.

“Goedemorgen,” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

“Goedemorgen,” Cullen whispered back. “Sorry to wake you, but I didn’t want to leave you asleep alone.”

“That’s all right,” Naomi responded with a yawn, realizing as she sat up that Cullen was dressed, his armor secured in place, his curls slicked back and tamed.

“I let you sleep as long as I could, and if you need to rest longer, I’m sure we can arrange something,” Cullen continued. “But I need to leave. There is so much to do…”

“I can get up now,” Naomi said, squinting toward the small window where dim light was leaking into the room. Her stomach turned slightly, energy crawling beneath her skin. “I need to find Solas anyway.”

Cullen’s hand found hers. “Do you want me to come? I can put off my meetings until then.”

Naomi shook her head. “You don’t have to. It will only take a few moments.” She smiled. “Then I’ll be good for… at least another day.”

Cullen sighed. “Yes, one day…”

Naomi squeezed his hand. “It’s the best we have.”

“I know,” Cullen said. “But I want…” He sighed again, looking away from her face, down to her body, then away entirely.

“What is it?” Naomi asked quietly.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I just… woke this morning and wanted… you. You were pressed against me and I wanted to wake you up and… and kiss you, and… touch you…” He trailed off, then rubbed the back of his neck. “But I know you’re not ready,” he continued.

And he was resigned. Naomi heard it in his voice. He had moved to accept that they would never be together physically again…

“I’ll be ready eventually,” Naomi said, to assure herself as much as him. “I’m still mostly recovering from the fever and not eating for that long. I’m sure… I’m sure once my strength returns…”

But she didn’t know. It only took a few hours after removing the mana to start feeling ill, and anything that raised her heartrate, got her excited only hastened the entire process…

“Just give it a few days,” she told him, reaching for his jaw. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Of course,” Cullen said, looking back to her face. “Days, weeks… I want you to return to… something resembling normalcy before anything else. And if that never happens…”

“Cullen, we’ll figure it out,” Naomi repeated. “Please don’t jump to that conclusion yet.”

Cullen nodded. “All right.” Then he sighed, glancing toward the door. “I should get going. Are you certain you will be all right today?”

Naomi smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. I forgot to mention it yesterday, but Dagna found the time to work on a microscope. She has something almost done. I’m going to spend the day in the undercroft working with it. And then, well, I’ll spend more time down there using it…”

Cullen had stared smiling while she talked, and when she finished, leaned in to kiss her. “I’m glad,” he said when he pulled away. “I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

 

\----- 

 

James left with Cassandra and Varric that same morning. Naomi watched him leave through the gates, praying she hadn’t made a mistake by encouraging him to go. She was out of the worst of danger, but now he was riding toward it…

_He’s come back every other time. This is no different…_

She went to find Solas once her brother was out of sight, careful to keep her eyes averted from anyone she might pass, checking self-consciously to be sure her tunic was buttoned securely over the amulet. She had realized that morning that half of her clothes could no longer be worn, not if she wanted to hide her chest.

Someday she might not mind if others saw, but she certainly wasn’t there yet.

Solas was in his rotunda, the elf already sketching the next panel of his mural, no doubt adding the Winter Palace to the story of the Inquisition he’d been painting on the walls. He put down the charcoal when he saw Naomi, descending to the floor to pull the collected mana from her body.

Naomi breathed a sigh of relief when it was finished, her heart immediately slowing, the nausea that had built in her stomach reduced. The relief lasted until noon, but Naomi could largely ignore the discomfort, especially as she focused on working with Dagna on the microscope. Naomi had taken one look at the device in the full light of day and decided she needed to know more, about how Dagna had made it, how she could potentially make another on her own, repair anything that could possibly go wrong...

She lost track of the time. When not working on the microscope, she was brainstorming, trying to design experiments, making lists of supplies, plans for what she wanted to study first, taking an inventory of what she could already work with…

Cullen ended up finding her at the end of the day. Naomi had long since switched to using candles, and was surprised to hear just how late it had gotten. But she realized she had spent nearly the entire day not worrying about the amulet, thinking about how she looked, remembering how she almost died…

It was an escape, over the next few days, to go to the undercroft and work with the microscope, with her herbs and potions. Dagna could only help for part of the day, busy as she was with other work, including her continued search for a way to get past Naomi’s skin or to neutralize the amulet, but every day brought them closer to a working device that could look at the smallest living organisms.

Naomi barely saw Cullen. He was buried in the work that had piled up while they traveled to Orlais and the Winter Palace, and so he rose early and retired late. Naomi would emerge for a midday meal, more often than not finding Cullen unavailable as he was locked in a meeting, or outside of Skyhold entirely seeing to the army camped in the valley below.

But every night they would crawl into bed together, exhausted, and the one night Naomi tried to kiss him, push them further, she had to stop before hands had wandered below clothing for fear of vomiting in the bed…

Naomi didn’t know what to do. She had started to feel stronger, after several days of consistent eating and no vomiting or fever to weaken her, but while the mana could be managed to not make her constantly ill, she still felt dizzy after climbing a flight of stairs, and by the time she went to sleep the nausea had returned. She wanted to find a way to do s _omething_ , but she was at a loss. Cullen woke, more than once, pressed hard against her, but he was even more careful than her, never saying anything about it, never trying to push what he wanted again.

And he was in pain as well, not fully recovered from the taste of lyrium. His withdrawal had returned with vigor, his nights dodged with nightmares, headaches and shaking hindering his ability to work efficiently. There were times when he was free, and Naomi did what she could to take the edge from his symptoms, but for the most part he was more miserable than he had been in weeks.

Naomi was in the undercroft, watching as an extract of elfroot slowly condensed and dripped into a glass flask, when Dagna called to her excitedly. Naomi met the dwarf halfway across the drafty room, the shorter woman reaching for Naomi’s hand with no preamble, slipping a silver ring on her finger.

And the nausea that had been building in her body over the day slowly disappeared, along with the slight dizziness, the elevated heartrate. Naomi gaped at the ring, another emerald set into the metal to match the one set in her chest, feeling just slightly the flow of energy shift, move, stop collecting over her heart and instead travel down her arm, settle into the warmth of the ring…

“Is it helping?” Dagna asked hopefully.

Naomi nodded, still staring at her hand. “Yeah, it is. It feels like… when Solas drains the mana…”

“Well, I used his spell to make this ring, so I would hope it feels like it.”

Naomi finally looked at Dagna. “This is Solas’s spell?”

“Yup!” Dagna said through a grin. “I figured that if I couldn’t find a way to get the amulet out of your body, I could at least make something that helps you feel better. And since Solas had that spell, I just made it permanent in this ring. Simple enchantment really. I’ve calibrated it to keep a certain amount of mana inside your own body, but any extra gets pulled out by the ring.”

Naomi held the ring closer to her face. “But…where is the mana going?”

“Into the gem!” Dagna said. “And I made it so any mage could potentially access the mana.”

Hope was bubbling in Naomi’s chest. Any mage could remove the mana, and it was now constantly taken from her body. She always felt nearly back to normal right after Solas removed the mana, and now that would never have to end…

“How much mana can the gem hold?” Naomi asked next.

“A lot,” Dagna said. “Potentially endless. Gems are really wonderful at storing energy.”

Naomi stared at Dagna, her heart starting to race. And with it came no nausea. “So if I wear this, then I’ll be… fine?”

“I’ll want to keep an eye on it over the next weeks to make sure it’s working how I want, but yes, you should be fine.”

Naomi dropped to Dagna’s level, grasping her shoulders. “Dagna, I know I’ve told you before but… you are amazing.”

Dagna grinned through a giggle. “Just doing my job.”

But Naomi felt like crying. “I don’t care Dagna, thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means… If this really works then… I can live normally…”

She would not be tied to a mage, to a Templar. She would have to keep this ring with her forever, and part of her was nervous that there would be negative side-effects like the amulet. But if it worked…

She would no longer find herself out of breath after a run up a flight of stairs. She would no longer wake up after a night's sleep feeling like she would vomit. She could work with the horses and train again. She could kiss Cullen without holding back…

Cullen. She could kiss Cullen, and so much more.

“Well my amulet messed you up in the first place,” Dagna said. “I needed to fix that.”

Naomi smiled, then gave the dwarf a hug. But she was on her feet as quickly as possible, turning toward the door. “Thank you again. I want to go show Cullen…”

“Go, go!” Dagna said, shooing her away with her hands. “Let me know if you start feeling different. I want to keep a close eye on it for the next few days.”

Naomi nodded, then returned to her desk, put out her candles and fires, grabbed a finished flask of potion for Cullen, and jogged toward the door.

A run that left her with slightly elevated breathing, but nothing more.

So she ran the rest of the way, up the stairs to the great hall, through the length of the hall to the walls, then over the walls to Cullen’s door…

And she was out of breath and tired, but not ill. Her heart was racing without making her feel faint.

Cullen was on the other side of the door and she felt better than she had in days. She looked down at her hand, at the ring barely visible in the dark.

She didn’t know if it would really be this easy, but for tonight…

She opened the door and slipped into Cullen’s office.

He was there, leaning over his desk. He looked up when she entered, his golden eyes meeting hers and crinkling slightly as he smiled.

But he wasn’t alone, a half-dozen officers all circling the desk, their own eyes turned toward her. Naomi blushed and leaned against the wall by the door, nervously turning the flask around in her fingers.

“In the meantime, we’ll send soldiers to assist with the relief effort,” Cullen told those gathered, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he stood and moved from behind the desk. “That will be all.”

“Sir!” one of the officers said, and they filed from the office. Naomi closed the door behind them, then crossed to join Cullen by his desk.

“There’s always something more, isn’t there?” he said quietly, reaching to readjust some loose papers scattered across the desk. “I fear I will never catch up.”

Naomi placed her flask on the desk. Cullen glanced toward it, but didn’t reach to drink. “Is it a bad time?” Naomi asked. “I can come back.”

“No, no, I’m glad you’re here,” Cullen said with a small smile. “I’ve seen so little of you these past few days.” He reached for her, his hand grazing her hip. Naomi watched as his eyes dropped down to her lips, then lower to her breasts, finally closing as he took a deep breath.

He was holding back, afraid to do more, just as he had for days…

But Naomi didn’t want to hold back. Not when she finally felt herself…

So she kissed him. Not slowly or gently, hesitant to allow their embrace to become heated. No, she pressed her lips against his, followed by as much as her body as she could, pulled at his lips and prodded with her tongue until he opened his mouth to her with a moan…

Her heart raced and her breaths came short, but as Naomi pushed herself closer, dove deeper, all she felt change was the arousal in her core, pleasure shooting through her body when Cullen’s hands grasped at her ass, when he groaned once more into their kiss.

He pulled away after a moment, his forehead against hers, his hands pushing beneath her tunic. “What happened?” he asked breathlessly. “I didn’t think…”

“Dagna made something to help,” Naomi whispered back, untangling her hand from his hair to display the ring. “She used Solas’s spell. It constantly removes the mana so I don’t feel the side effects.” Her eyes met his, his pupils blown wide with desire. She shivered.

And then he smiled, his hand gently taking her cheek under his palm. “Your eyes are blue again,” he murmured.


	95. The Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kind of a bear to write, but it's finally done, even if I stayed up waaaay too late to finish it!
> 
> NSFW! There is smut (mostly smut actually), fluff, angst, and feels! (This is not a horror chapter, as the title might suggest, haha)

Her eyes were blue.

And when Naomi smiled, they crinkled in that beautiful way he loved.

“Really?”

Cullen couldn’t stop smiling. Her eyes were blue. “There is still more green than before, but yes, they’re blue.” Perfect, bright, clear…

Just like her laugh. “I don’t care. Even having just a little bit is more than I had hoped…” Her hand was back in his hair, pulling him closer once again, her smile brushing against his. Her eyes were blue, because Dagna had finally controlled the mana. She was here, flushed and breathless but _smiling_ , because the side effects of the amulet were gone.

The side effects were gone and she had kissed him, was trying to kiss him again, her eyes dropping to his lips…

Cullen kissed her, desperate. That first taste hadn’t been enough, not after the weeks he had needed to hold back, after nearly losing her not once, but twice in so short a time. He had been cautious, worried to hurt her, fearful of losing her. He’d watched her run away from him, waste away, bleed and die on a tent floor… and every time she came back, survived, and he could tell her over and over how relieved he was to still have her, how much he loved her…

But he had yet to express, physically, those same things, how much he wanted and needed to love her with every piece of him.

Then Naomi pulled back, looking worriedly into his eyes. “Cullen, why are you crying?”

Cullen frowned, but realized she was right. He hadn’t even noticed the few tears that had run down his cheeks. “I nearly lost you,” he whispered, blinking to keep more tears from slipping out of his eyes. “And I could do nothing but watch. It killed me, watching you hurting, knowing I could do nothing to help you…” Naomi wiped his cheeks with her thumbs.

“It’s all right, Cullen,” she said softly, eyes shining. “I’m not hurting anymore. It’s going to be ok.”

She shouldn’t be the one reassuring him, not after everything that had happened.

But he had held himself together for too long, had only let a few tears escape, hadn’t acted on the numerous times he had _needed_ to love her…

The tension he had been holding broke free, tore through his body like fire, and Cullen pulled Naomi back into him. And she kissed him back just as fiercely, their teeth clacking and tongues tangling, soft moans vibrating from her throat, travelling through Cullen’s body and straight to his groin, his cock soon hard and hot and straining against his breeches. He turned her, pressed her against the desk, his hands wandering over the curves of her body, beneath her clothing, grasping and pulling at skin and fabric, glad he had forgone his gloves for the night so he could better feel the soft give of her flesh beneath his fingers. She was thinner than she had been before her ordeal, the bones of her hips and ribs more prominent as he explored beneath her tunic, but she was alive and healthy and pressing herself against him…

The longer they kissed without her pulling back, the surer Cullen became that she really was all right, that her body would not rebel against her. He started to hope, imagine everything he wanted to do.

Kiss her until the sun returned, make her gasp and moan and cry out in pleasure, lick at the wetness surely growing between her legs, taste her until she bucked beneath his lips, kiss every curve of her body, every freckle and scar, bury himself inside of her, watch her face as he moved and thrust into the soft heat of her sex, hear her cry out, clench around him as she came…

Naomi’s hands left his hair and began tugging at his pauldrons, deftly removing the fur from his shoulders, moving next to unclasp the armor covering the rest of his body. Cullen tore himself away from her lips with a gasp, focusing on her beautifully flushed face, her eyes hooded with lust. “We should go upstairs,” he said breathlessly, his gorget falling away under Naomi’s efficient hands. It was so much easier to undress, once he had shown her how to remove his armor…

“I want you now,” she said. _Moaned._ Her hands moved to his gauntlets.

_Yes. Yes, yes, yes…_

Going slow could wait. They had the rest of the night. But now he could finally have her as he had wanted more times than he could keep track of…

Once the guantlets were gone he reached for his breastplate while Naomi unfastened his belt. Free of his most restricting layers, metal clanging to the stone floor, Cullen moved to her, opened her tunic and pushed it off her shoulders, only briefly glancing at the amulet still embedded in her chest and glinting in the candlelight, looking instead to her breasts only partially revealed by the cut of her breastband, imagined them exposed, her nipples pearled beneath his palms…

Naomi buried her fingers back in his hair and guided their lips back together, her nose pressed into his cheek. Cullen ran his hands down her body, pushed his hips against hers, then tugged on her breeches until he could work his fingers beneath her smalls, into her heat, wet as he had thought. She spread her legs to give him better access, groaned as he rubbed at her clit, gasped when he sank one finger, then two into her entrance.

“I… need you inside of me…” she whimpered, moving her hands to his own breeches, brushing against his aching cock. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Cullen groaned, more a growl, and withdrew from her breeches so he could pull them off of her, dropping to his knees to remove her shoes and slip the fabric from her legs…

Which brought him to the perfect level to smell her arousal, run his hands up the inside of her thighs, encourage her legs apart, spread her and lick at her folds, hear her moan above him as he manipulated her clit with his lips, shiver when she buried a hand in his hair…

“Cullen… _please_ ,” she gasped, her legs beginning to tremble beneath his hands. “I want… want…”

“What do you want?” he growled, flicking her with his tongue, then stroking, slowly, along the length of her folds, savoring the salty tang of her…

“Your cock,” she moaned, fingers clenching against his scalp. “ _Please_.”

The member in question pulsed with pleasure, after hearing her beg…

But Cullen didn’t move away from her sex, continued to lick and taste until she was groaning incoherently, her body shaking against him…

“Cullen!” she finally cried. Demanded.

His lips were on hers before she could draw another breath, and he lifted her onto the desk, just like he had on that table in Orlais, settling himself between her legs, bucking against her, pressure building in his core…

Glass shattered, and Cullen started, pulling away from Naomi’s mouth to see what had fallen, noticing the broken glass and spreading puddle of potion on the ground next to the desk. “Oh no,” Naomi whispered. “That was for you.”

Cullen looked back to her, her blue-green eyes now worried, her brows pulled together. Even now, after he had nearly pushed her over the edge with his tongue, as she shook and gasped with arousal and want, she thought of him, worried that he was in pain, that he would not have relief because the potion she had made, potion he had never asked her to create, was now ruined.

But by some grace of the Maker, he felt fine. No headache, minimal pain in his body…

And she was nearly naked before him, her arousal still coating his fingers, clinging to his lips, his cock straining against his clothes, insistent on feeling the tight clench of her around him…

Cullen leaned around Naomi, pushed the papers and books littering the desk’s surface away, several falling to the floor, creating a clear space for him to lay her back… “I don’t need it,” he growled, crawling onto the desk after her, pressing himself against her body, kissing her lips, her neck, manipulating her breast with his hand while she thrust her hips against him. “I just need you.”

She hummed, low with pleasure, and her hands slipped around his hips, grappled with his breeches, pressure building in his core as her fingers brushed against his cock. Cullen hissed when it finally sprang free, Naomi’s hands immediately circling the base of him, drawing a moan past his lips….

He met her gaze, tensing as she gently stroked the length of his cock, ran her thumb across the sensitive head, her full, pink lips parted enticingly. “I need you,” she said, stroking him again. “All of you…”

Cullen grunted, gripped her hips, pulled her further beneath him, and lifted himself on his knees so he could better angle himself to sink between her thighs, groaning as he moved, slowly as he could manage, until as much of him was enveloped by her exquisite heat as possible. Naomi’s mouth opened wider in silent wonder as he sank into her, arms wrapped around his body, grasping at his ass to pull him even closer. Her breaths fell warm and soft against his lips. “I love you,” she murmured when he stilled, her walls clenching around his length, adjusting to his presence. “So much…”

And there was more than lust in her eyes when she looked at him. There was the pain, lingering fear from their time on the road, memories of what had nearly happened to her, what _had_ happened, casting a shadow over her normally bright gaze.

And love. Unhindered, _unconditional_ love that left Cullen’s chest aching.

He loved her, more than anything, fell more in love with her every day. And he had nearly lost her, had nearly watched her die. He would never forget the blood, never forget the despair when he realized the amulet could not be removed in time.

But she had survived. And they were here now, joined together…

Cullen moved, watched her eyes as some of that pain was chased away with each stroke inside of her. “I love you,” he told her back, unable to resist increasing his pace, entering her at that angle he had quickly learned left her moaning. “I love you,” he repeated, more gruffly as his quickening thrusts sent lightning crackling through his body, pleasure casting a haze over his mind.

He wanted to go slowly, gently string out their coupling for as long as he could, but once he started he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, and the baser instinct to _rut,_ suppressed for so long, began to take over, encouraged by Naomi’s groans of “Ja,” and “Meer…”

Loving Naomi was beyond anything Cullen knew, perfect in every way, and as they moved together, her hips meeting his at every thrust, the last vestiges of caution disappeared. Cullen relaxed, lost himself in Naomi, in her body, in the moans falling across his ears, in the sight of her flushed cheeks and parted lips, in the relief knowing she would not die, that perhaps, moving forward, she could be healed and healthy and the ordeal of the last few days could be left behind…

Her orgasm caught him off guard, came sooner than he had anticipated, her moans turning into a strangled cry, her entire body tensing, arching into his, her walls, already snug around him, clenching tighter so that nothing mattered but the heat and friction around his cock, pleasure and pressure building deep in his core, snapping with release when Naomi groaned his name. He ground into her, deep as he could while he came, her walls fluttering along the length of his cock as he spilled every ounce of his seed into her sex.

Cullen moved with small thrusts until he was spent, his mind slowly expanding to register the slight shaking of Naomi’s body, the lingering aftershocks deep in her core, her ragged breathing and whispered endearments.

“I love you,” he told her again, lifting his weight slightly off of her, placing a kiss gently on the slightly slick skin of her neck, her pulse racing beneath his lips. “I love you.”

She sighed, shifting her hips in a way that sent a shock of pleasure back through Cullen’s body, her own mouth finding his neck. “I love you too. And God… I’ve wanted this so much.”

Cullen kissed his way up her neck, along her jaw to her lips. “And you feel all right?” he asked quietly, looking into her eyes, no longer shadowed with fear or pain.

“I feel amazing,” she said with a small grin, her hand gripping his ass a little tighter. “Thanks to you.”

Cullen chuckled, kissed her again, body warm and sated, thrumming slightly with the knowledge that he was still buried inside of her…

A door creaked, and Cullen froze, every muscle in his body tensing. He felt Naomi do the same, her limbs jerking as she attempted to cover herself, shy away from whoever was trying to enter his office. Cullen swore under his breath, and turned his head just enough to see who had interrupted them…

But the door was already clicking shut, the intruder gone. Cullen looked back to Naomi, her eyes wide and staring up at him. Cullen cleared his throat, his face starting to burn. “I suppose I should have locked the doors,” he said quietly.

And she snorted, started to giggle, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her mouth with her hand. Cullen lifted himself off of her shaking body, unable to keep himself from grinning. He was embarrassed, mortified actually, that someone had seen them, but she had laughed so infrequently the last few weeks, and he savored it, no matter what had brought it out.

“Well, we should do that now,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Or move upstairs… like you suggested earlier, before someone else comes…”

“Yes, of course,” Cullen said, moving off of the desk, Naomi following him. He watched her as she moved, realizing the image of her bare ass sliding across his workspace would be forever seared into his mind, along with everything else they had done on that desk…

Then Naomi bent over, displaying her backside in a way that had Cullen’s cock twitching with interest, and he suppressed a groan. He was not finished for the night, not even close. Naomi glanced at him over her shoulder, standing slowly, her breeches and smalls in hand. “You all right?” she asked with a smirk, her own eyes dropping down to where his cock was still hanging out of his breeches.

Cullen cleared his throat again, averting his eyes from her body to the mess scattered around the desk. “Yes,” he said stiffly, tucking his still half-hard cock back into his pants. “Your backside is just… very comely,” he muttered. Naomi laughed again, and Cullen blushed. He moved to the back of his desk to collect the papers that had fallen to the ground, haphazardly placing them on his desk, trying _not_ to think about Naomi bent over that piece of furniture, her ass presented to him, legs parted just enough to show a hint of the pink folds nestled between…

He focused instead on the next morning, how long it would take to organize the reports, how he could potentially squash any gossip that could be spread by their intruder. But when he looked up to see Naomi helping him, smalls mercifully now covering the more intimate parts of her body, he didn’t regret anything. He would do it again, and again, and again…

And he could, now that something had been done to help her. He watched her face, still flushed after their lovemaking, looking once more for any hint of sickness, any suggestion she was in pain.

There was nothing, and when she glanced toward him she smiled, standing up straighter, the amulet glinting between her breasts. “What about the glass?” she asked, her brows raising slightly. Cullen moved to her side of the desk and snaked his hands around her waist, pulling her hips flush with his, his cock pulsing slightly with renewed desire. He leaned in, kissed her slowly, gently, pulling away with a grin. She blinked, focused her gaze on him, and smiled.

“It can wait until the morning.” He slipped one hand down the back of her smalls, kneading gently at the shapely flesh of her ass, drawing a small sigh past her lips. “Right now, I want to take you upstairs.”

 

\----- 

 

The next time they made love, Cullen took his time.

He made sure to strip Naomi bare, remove every stitch of her clothing so he could touch every inch of her skin, followed by his lips, kissing, suckling, leaving marks, avoiding the heat between her legs until she was writhing against him, begging him to touch her…

He sent her over the edge with his fingers, swallowing her moans as he kissed her, rubbing his cock along the inside of her thigh, pressing her body firmly into the mattress while she traced the scars on his back.

Then he used his mouth, his cock throbbing with each cry that passed her lips, with every exclamation of his name. His hands gripped at her curves, manipulated her full, perfect breasts until he moved them to her hips, holding her down as she thrust against his mouth when she came, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps, her fingers tangling in his hair.

She had barely calmed before he was on top of her, spreading her legs and nudging into her still sensitive sex, soaking wet and swollen, tight around his cock as he worked his way fully inside of her. Naomi wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled her body flush to his and kissed him while he drove into her, time losing all meaning as he lost himself in her body, pleasure coursing through his body until she came apart beneath him. He followed her in the next breath, body shattering with one of the longest orgasms he could remember, leaving him aching and numb and boneless for another several minutes...

Then Cullen kissed her, still in a haze, for what could have been hours, slipping inside of her one last time, slowly moving until they came together, their eyes locked, the love in hers spilling into him until he thought his chest would never stop aching, thought he might never be happier than he was in that moment.

They dozed, after that, tangled together, and Cullen didn’t even bother to remove himself from her body before falling asleep. When he woke, in the deepest hours of the night, Cullen found they had shifted, Naomi now half on top of him, her breasts pressed into his chest, her leg draped between his legs, brushing against his cock. He watched her face, listened to her soft breaths, felt the expansion of her chest, pressed firm and warm against him, and felt himself growing hard, aching to feel her again. Perhaps, on another night, he would have ignored his body’s response and gone back to sleep. But tonight, after finally having her back…

He brought his lips to her neck, kissed her pulse until her breathing shifted, along with her leg as she began to wake. He slipped his hand between her legs, sank a finger into her sex and curled it gently along her inner walls, humming with pleasure when she clenched around him, followed by a wave of moisture, repeating the motion until his digit was coated with her arousal.

Naomi gasped when she woke fully, her eyes blinking open, glimmering green in the dark. “Fuck Cullen,” she muttered, her hand curling against his side. “You can’t wake me up like that.”

Cullen stopped moving, worried he had crossed a line, assuming she would want the same as him…

“I’m sorry,” he said, removing his hand from her body.

But she nudged her hips against him. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, spreading her legs wider, biting at her lip.

Worry instantly gone, Cullen resumed his ministrations, adding another finger to her sex, returning his lips to her neck, sucking at her pulse and stroking along her soaked walls until her fingernails scraped against his skin. “Oh God…,” she moaned.

Cullen nipped at her skin with his teeth and she bucked against him with a whimper. Cullen chuckled, carefully working a third finger into her sex, pumping slowly while his thumb rubbed at her clit, drawing a long, low groan from Naomi’s throat.

Then she growled softly, straddled his hips, his cock settling between the cleft of her ass, her hands resting, not gently, against his chest. Cullen took in the sight of her body in the bright light of the moon streaming through the hole in his ceiling that had never been fixed, her nipples peaking in the chill night air. She shifted lower, his cock settling more firmly against her heat, throbbing when she leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest…

“Could I… try something?” she whispered, voice low and soft, her lips hovering a mere inch above his. But her eyes were cautious, eyebrows raised slightly in worry.

Cullen gently laid his hands on the swell of her hips. “Anything,” he said.

Naomi nodded, sat up slightly, her fingers gently curling through the hair dusting his chest. She dropped her eyes to his body, then bent back over, dragging her full, soft lips across his skin, peppering kisses along his shoulders, his chest, her hands traveling lower, exploring the ridges of his stomach, her hips shifting until his cock was no longer centered over her sex, but straining against her lower stomach.

Cullen didn’t move, tried to control his rapidly increasing breathing as Naomi slowly worked her way lower, shivers traveling through his body every time her lips contacted his skin, hips bucking slightly when her fingers skirted over the sensitive skin below his navel.

Then she flicked her tongue over one of his hardened nipples and he let out a strangled groan, pulling her body firmly into his cock, rubbing himself against her…

She laughed, pushing against his hands until she was lifted away from his groin. She met his gaze, her eyebrows raised. “I thought you were going to let me try something?”

Cullen relaxed back into the mattress. “My apologies,” he murmured. “Please, continue.”

She grinned, then glanced down and wrapped her hand around his cock.

Cullen bucked into her, groaned. She moved with the motion of his hips, then gently eased him back down with her other hand, stroking him slowly, from base to tip.

Cullen closed his eyes, focused all of his attention on the motion of her hands, on keeping control of the pressure building inside of him. She shifted, the head of his cock dragging along the length of her body as she moved, her mouth back to kissing his body, moving below his chest to his navel, and then lower…

Cullen realized then what she was doing, and snapped his eyes open, sitting up and reaching for her shoulder. “Naomi, stop. You don’t have to do that.”

She sat up, straddling his legs and resting her hands on his thighs. She looked at him with wide eyes, her hair framing her face, falling in long waves over her chest. She parted her lips, and Cullen had an image of her wrapping them around him, taking his length into her soft, warm mouth…

“Do you not want me to?” Naomi asked.

His cock pulsed, _moved_ , and Cullen swallowed thickly. He w _anted,_ but he couldn’t ask…

“You don’t have to,” he said repeated quietly.

Naomi’s fingers curled against his thighs, sparks shooting through his core. “I want to,” she said. “But only if you want it.”

Cullen studied her another moment, then nodded. If she really wanted… Naomi licked her lips and a shot of pleasure so strong he nearly groaned tore through Cullen. He wanted that tongue on him...

“Ok then,” she said, looking down at his straining and aching cock. “Just… tell me… what feels good.” She moved her hand back, circling him gently, then more firmly as she stroked. “Or bad for that matter,” she added with a whisper.

Cullen couldn’t breathe, watched with wide eyes and a dry throat as she lowered herself down, her hair falling against his legs, into his lap, her hands moving for one moment, then two…

She kissed him first, gently, her lips the barest whisper against his shaft, hesitant, exploring. Cullen groaned, forced his hips to stillness, and watched her kiss him again, and again, slowly working around, up, down his cock…

A battle he nearly lost when she licked him, her tongue flicking out quickly near the base of his cock. “Maker,” he breathed, clenching the sheets between his fists when she did it again.

She paused. “So that’s good?” she asked tentatively.

“Maker yes.”

She licked her lips, then brought her tongue back to his erection, made a longer stroke, then another, growing bolder the longer she worked, repeated the path she had made with her lips, caressing the length of his cock, gentle and careful…

Cullen’s breath was racing, and every touch from Naomi’s hand, from her tongue, sent lightning through him, more blood rushing to his groin. He thought about encouraging her, telling her she could be firmer, could lick harder, but her soft movements felt too good, too sweet, and he didn’t trust his voice to work.

Then she licked him from base to tip, and Cullen groaned, unable to keep his hips from shifting after her. She gripped his length, and broadly swept her tongue across the swollen, aching head, collecting the drop of liquid that had pearled at the tip, drawing her tongue back into her mouth.

Cullen suppressed a moan as he watched her swallow, then glance up at him with a flash of green. “It tastes… different than me,” she said quietly. She licked her lips, testing, and frowned slightly. “A bit… saltier? More bitter…”

“You don’t have to,” Cullen repeated, even as he silently hoped she would continue. “Really, Naomi.”

Naomi looked back to his cock, lowered her lips once again. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s not bad…”

She returned to stroking with her tongue, circling the head of his cock, still gentle, still careful, though the hand at his base gripped him more boldly. Cullen lowered himself back to the mattress, closed his eyes so he could better focus on her ministrations, humming with pleasure when she returned to using her lips, gently nipping at his hardened flesh…

And then she slipped him between her lips, her mouth softly taking him in. “Oh Maker,” Cullen groaned, muscles tensing in his core, in his entire body. He opened his eyes, glanced up and watched as she slid herself further down, another inch disappearing into her mouth, her teeth brushing slightly over his skin before she opened wider, slid her tongue along the underside of his cock…

Cullen was sweating, shaking from the effort of keeping himself still, not entirely sure he could believe that he was here, in this bed, Naomi kneeling over him, holding him in her mouth.

It almost felt… wrong. But also g _ood_ and perfect, and… and sexy and erotic…

She moved even lower and Cullen thought he was going to burst, and when she hummed, shifted her ass, raising it slightly into the air, he felt himself heading toward that edge…

And then she gagged, at least half of his length still fisted in her hand. She pulled away, the air cool on the saliva left on his burning cock. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes cast down.

“It’s fine,” Cullen panted. “Don’t… take more than you can handle.” But he couldn’t help thinking what it would be like if she did…

The hand on his cock loosened slightly, and the other rested on his thigh. She swallowed, eyes still downcast. “I’m not… sure...”

Cullen sat up immediately and reached for her waist. “Don’t worry Naomi. You can stop.”

She released his erection and glanced up with a frustrated sigh. “I just thought I could make you feel like I do.”

Cullen squeezed her. “You do Naomi. All the time.”

She sighed again. “Not with my mouth.”

Cullen shook his head. “And you don’t have to, if you don’t like it.” No matter how much _he_ liked it…

“It’s not that I didn’t like it. I just… thought it would go differently,” she mumbled.

Cullen grinned, gripping her hips. “Well, you can try again, whenever you feel like it.” Then he pulled her closer, further into his lap, and leaned to whisper in her ear, “There’s plenty more we can do for the rest of the night.”

Naomi moaned, then pushed against his chest until he was pinned back on the mattress, his cock pressing between her thighs, almost unbelievable wet… Naomi sat up, lifted herself on her knees, grasped his cock so firmly Cullen hissed, then guided herself down, sinking around him with a single, smooth motion that had them both moaning…

She was soaking wet, unbelievable smooth around his length, and though her mouth had been amazing, it could not compare to the pure ecstasy that shook his body when they coupled. Cullen grasped her hips and bucked, settling himself deeper, her breasts bouncing slightly from the force of his action. He repeated the motion and Naomi groaned, her head falling slightly back, hair shifting behind her shoulders to reveal the line of her neck, and the amulet reflecting the light of the moon.

That damn amulet that had nearly killed her, had marked her forever. Even if it was eventually removed there would be a scar. She had been self-conscious of that amulet, afraid he would find it ugly, and though Cullen had assured her it didn’t matter, he knew she still did not like it, covered it at every chance…

But the amulet _hadn’t_ killed her, and he would eventually learn to love it, just as he loved every other part of her.

Because every part of her was magnificent, beautiful, and as she moved around him, ground her hips into him until every inch of his cock was inside of her, stretching her walls and pressing against that barrier deep inside, Cullen prayed that this was not just a break in the storm, that the amulet centered just above her perfect breasts would not rear its head, still take her from him…

Naomi brought her hand to where they were joined, the ring that was allowing her to be here, on top of him, riding him, shone like the amulet. If it truly worked, if it kept Naomi like this, Cullen would have to take back every curse, every ill thought he had had about Dagna and her strange, arcanist experiments…

He took them back even now, for giving him this one night with Naomi.

Cullen thrust up, into Naomi as quickly as he could, Naomi meeting him at every turn, her groans growing louder, less restrained with every moment they moved together. But it was Cullen who struggled to keep control, to hold back the pressure building in his body, the fire of his cock, in his core, flaring with the friction of her sex after she had worked him with her mouth, watching her breasts bouncing against her body, her brows furrowed with pleasure, her eyes closed and mouth slack…

“Cullen!” she cried, still falling first, walls slamming tighter around his cock. Cullen bucked into her, drawing out her pleasure as long as he could before he could no longer keep himself from coming, spilling into her with a strangled groan, his cock throbbing with each stroke. Naomi fell forward, clutching at his body while she continued to clench around him, her entire body expanding against his as she tried to catch her breaths, his own coming heavy and labored.

It was several moments before they stirred, Naomi rising carefully and slipping off of him, falling to her back on the bed at his side. Cullen stared at the ceiling, through the hole where stars blinked in the clear mountain air, the cool caress of a breeze dancing over his heated skin. He smiled, still a little breathless, and thanked the Maker for the mercy he had finally shown Naomi.

He was thankful she was well enough to have sex, to make love. But even more, he was thankful she was no longer in pain. She had already endured more pain than she deserved.

Cullen turned his head toward her, finding her grinning while she looked at him. “That was amazing,” she whispered. “Like… maybe the best…?”

Cullen laughed, turning to pull her body close to his, sitting up slightly to pull the blankets over their bodies, growing cool as they calmed and sweat evaporated in the chilly night air. She reached for his neck and he kissed her, burying his hand in her hair. “I would agree to that,” he murmured into her mouth. “I’ll certainly never forget tonight.”

Naomi chuckled, her leg tangling his, her foot gently stroking his leg. “I won’t either,” she responded quietly, her lips gently meeting his. “Everything about yesterday, and this night, finally seemed to go right.”

Cullen ran his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, gently taking her hand in his own. He drew it up, to where he could see the ring Dagna had crafted. He ran his thumb over the green gem, larger than he had originally thought, realizing it gave off a gentle warmth, similar to the heat given off by the amulet. But even given the gem’s size, it seemed so small, now that he inspected it, too small to truly be enough to heal the woman he loved. “Dagna really believes this will work?” he asked.

“She said she used the spell Solas has been using, made it permanent in this ring. She said it was simple…”

Cullen nodded. “Well, it is somewhat common, to enchant items. The Tranquil in the Circles would do it all the time.” He paused, mentioning the Tranquil, remembering how the rite had been abused, how he had turned away for so long, believed it the best path…

“I trust it will work then,” Naomi said, unaware of those past transgressions, or at least choosing to move past them. “I mean… it’s rather simple, what’s happening to me, at the most basic level. There’s too much mana in my body. Solas figured out how to get it out, and this ring uses that spell to do the same, only constantly. So now, the mana never gets to a level where it hurts my body.”

Cullen sighed, continuing to inspect the ring. “Yes, in theory it seems sounds. But we thought the same about the amulet…”

“It’s not the same,” Naomi said quietly. “The amulet did affect me negatively, I just didn’t say anything. This is different. So far, nothing feels wrong, and Dagna’s going to keep an eye on it.”

“Still,” Cullen muttered, turning the ring slightly around her finger. “Isn’t this your dominant hand? Perhaps it would be best if you used the other.”

Naomi bit her lip, then nodded. “Yeah, that would probably be better.”

Cullen slid the ring off her right hand and reached for her left as Naomi wiggled her arm up between their bodies. He tried to slip it on her middle finger but found the fit too snug, so he put it around the fourth instead. “There,” he murmured, bringing his lips to her hand and kissing the ring, sending a prayer to the Maker that it would continue to work.

Naomi cleared her throat and pulled her hand away. “Um… maybe I should see if Dagna will resize it…” she muttered.

Cullen looked at her face, though she would not look back. “Why? It seems to fit fine.”

She turned the ring slightly back and forth for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I… won’t bother her.” Then she wrapped her arms around his body and nudged herself closer, her eyes returning to his face.

Cullen stroked her hair. “I still… almost can’t believe you are… healed?”

“I… wouldn’t say healed. I’ll still have to wear this… forever. But it’s so much better than anything else, and I won’t have to always be around Solas, or another mage who could use the spell. And… hopefully I’ll never… never be so sick again…” She shifted, held him tighter, and Cullen saw a shadow pass back over her features.

“That’s what I want, more than anything,” Cullen whispered. “I’ve felt so helpless these last few weeks, seeing you in pain.”

Naomi’s hands gently stroked his back. “I was so scared,” she murmured after a moment. “I… know I’ve almost died before. I’ve been sick before, and when we were in the Fade… But I don’t remember what happened in the Fade, and even when I was sick, I never felt so afraid, so unsure if I would get better. But when Solas sent me into the Fade…” She trailed off and closed her eyes. Cullen’s throat started to ache, but he said nothing, just increased his hold on her body, prayed she would finally talk to him.

And she did, taking a deep breath before she continued. “I tried to come back,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “The moment I realized what was happening, I tried to wake up so I could see you again, see James again. Or at least… say goodbye, or tell you I loved you… But I couldn’t, I _couldn’t_ make myself come back, and then I felt the moment I was cut off. I knew I was trapped, and that… that nothing I did could help. I was trapped in the Fade, just hoping and praying that I would wake up, that you would bring me back...” She was crying and Cullen couldn’t speak. It was too much like his own nightmares, being trapped, helpless, completely at the mercy of forces beyond his control… “It’s a good thing Solas was there,” Naomi continued, voice wavering. “I was panicking, and… and probably would have been vulnerable to any demon who happened to be nearby. Not that they could have possessed me, since I was separated from my body…” She was shaking, and Cullen pulled her face into his shoulder. “And Cole was there too, and then he said… he said it wasn’t going well and I thought I was dying. I thought I was going to die without seeing anyone again, without seeing you again, without getting a chance to grow old, or… or figure out if lyrium is alive, or see if Dagna had made a microscope, or have a family…”

Cullen was crying too, tears falling silently down his cheeks. A future. She wanted a future. She had already lost one when the Breach was opened, and had spent the last months creating a new one, a future in a new world so unlike her own, dangerous and often terrible…

And it had nearly been taken away from her, and he could not deny, knowing it was selfish, that his own future would have been forever altered as well.

“I know that people almost die all the time,” she sniffed. “I know that… that you have too…”

“That doesn’t change what you feel,” Cullen found the voice to say. “You had every right to be afraid, to be upset. You can still feel those things.” She nodded against him, breathing deeply as she calmed herself. “How can I help?” he asked quietly.

“I think… talking helped,” Naomi said, pulling back slightly so she could look at him. “I haven’t really felt afraid in a few days, and knowing that it… it might not happen again…” She closed her eyes. “I’ll be ok.”

Cullen kissed her forehead, then leaned his against hers. He would do anything to change what had happened, take away her pain, her fear, and knowing that he couldn’t was almost painful. “I’ll be here,” was all he could say. “Even if I cannot help, I won’t leave you alone.”

“I know,” Naomi whispered, and cried until she fell asleep.


	96. Around the Fire

Nassella stomped her feet, sparks of pain shooting up her legs, and stuffed her gloved hands beneath her armpits, crouching down in an effort to warm her shaking body. She let out a long huff, breath steaming in front of her eyes and obscuring her vision for a brief moment before clearing, leaving the sight of the glowing rift several hundred yards ahead, clear in the crisp, freezing air.

It should not be this cold. It was only the middle of Kingsway, only halfway through autumn. Even this far south in Orlais, at this elevation, there should not be over two feet of snow, drifts reaching six, seven feet deep, at this time of the year. The river should not have frozen solid weeks ago.

It was unseasonable, bizarre, and the people in Emprise du Lion, of Sahrnia, were suffering because of it.

They had been trapped by the weather, unable to flee to warmer climes once the early freeze had hit. Trapped in their half-destroyed homes, preyed on by the red Templars that had taken root in the quarry, in the Keep halfway up the mountain.

And trapped by the demons swarming from the rifts, the surrounding countryside too dangerous to move through.

But the rifts had been around for months, and the demons they had attracted were strong, dangerous, and numerous. Nassella shivered, eyeing the wraiths, the terror demons slowly wandering beneath the crystalline rift nestled against a wall of ice.

It was already cold enough, and the thought of facing those wraiths with their icy blasts…

“What do you think?” she asked her companions, hunching even further around herself. “Can we handle them?”

“Aye, I believe we could,” Blackwall offered, ever confident in their abilities.

“Yeah, we could take them,” Bull added gruffly. “May not be easy, but we can take them.”

No, it wouldn’t be easy, not with their limbs half-frozen, their bodies lethargic from the cold. And based on the rift they had closed the day before, the demons were not affected in the same way.

But they needed to close the rift sooner rather than later. It had already been allowed to persist for far too long.

“Maybe we should wait for the others to arrive,” Dorian mumbled, the most negatively affected by the temperatures. “To be safe.”

Nassella chewed at her lip. It would certainly be easier if they waited, but she didn’t know how much longer that would be. They had only arrived themselves from the Emerald Graves the day before, and she didn’t expect the reinforcements from Skyhold for at least another day, likely two. And they couldn’t predict what other demons may arrive in that time, and there were larger targets that would need to be addressed as soon as the others arrived.

No, if they could take on these demons now, that was what they should do.

“We attack,” Nassella decided, standing and suppressing the urge to wince as her joints protested. “We will need to focus on the red Templars when the others arrive.”

“Let’s go then!” Sera exclaimed, jumping up and down in the snow, arms crossed across her chest. “Before I freeze my arse off!”

The battle was just as hard-fought as Nassella had anticipated, even with a small burst of warming magic from Dorian before they began their confrontation. It was noisy, cold, and when Nassella finally stretched out her left hand to close the rift, wincing as the deep, aching pain of the mark joined with the prickling, sharp pain of her freezing hand.

She groaned when the rift finally snapped shut, the sudden loss of tension causing her to stumble, fall to a knee. She took a deep breath, squeezing her hand in an attempt to suppress the lingering pain.

She doubted she would ever be used to closing rifts, and could only hope that someday there would be no more rifts left to close.

“You alright Boss?” Bull asked, checking in like he did after every fight.

“Yes,” Nassella said, rising to her feet. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Despite the difficultly of the fight, their injuries were minimal, a few bruises, some shallow cuts on Bull’s exposed arms, and Sera was spared from frostbite when she allowed Dorian to thaw an arm that had been struck by the wraith.

“I say we call it a day,” Dorian said, clearly drained, his voice lacking its usual humor. “I’m not certain I could handle another fight like that.”

Nassella nodded. “That’s fine. I think we could all use a fire, and some food.” She glanced up at the sky. “And the sun will be setting before too long.”

It was still nearly an hour before they returned to town, stumbling out of the wind behind ruined walls, passing gaunt villagers on their way to the Inquisition’s camp. Now that they had arrived, Nassella intended to evacuate the people once the red Templars were removed. Or, if they refused to leave, use the Inquisition’s resources to see the people through until spring.

But that could not happen for several days, so for now her people were sharing what food and supplies they could, protecting the people when necessary from the demons and red Templars that occasionally wandered too close.

Nassella retreated to her tent as soon as she could, huddling beneath her furs in an attempt to stay warm. Sera joined her not long after, wiggling beneath the furs, pressing her back to Nassella’s to share the heat of their bodies. Part of Nassella would have preferred Solas sharing her tent, so she could turn and wrap her arms around the other elf, press herself more fully against another warm, living body. But Sera was nearly as good, and the only alternative as Blackwall preferred his own tent, and Dorian and Bull kept each other warm in a third…

Though the sun had set and her belly was full, Nassella could not fall asleep, her mind not quieting now that her body was still. She could not stop thinking of Naomi, the friend she had been forced to leave behind, still unsure of what had come of her. And when Nassella was not thinking of the other woman and what she had done to her, she was thinking about the Emerald Graves and its trees, which legend said had been planted for each elvhen warrior killed during their last stand in the Exalted March…

The forest had been littered with remnants of the ancient elves, ruins and statues scattered throughout the trees at every turn, reminding Nassella of her people, what had been lost. She had heard the stories, knew the history, but to actually be in the ancient battleground…

It didn’t help that the Graves reminded her of the Free Marches and her home, that the towering trees and humid air were so like the conditions of her youth. More than once she found herself expecting to come across a flock of crimson aravals slowly wandering between the mossy trunks, hear a Dalish song drifting through the streams of sunlit air. Maybe in another world, that place _would_ have been her home.

But the forests were empty save for red Templar caravans and freeman fighters, silent except for the roars of great bears and the rumble of giant footsteps. As much as it looked it, that forest was not her home, just a painful reminder of everything she had lost. She had been glad to leave.

Sera was clearly having trouble sleeping herself as she shifted, scooted her backside closer.

“You awake Quizzy?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Nassella mumbled.

“This cold is shite,” Sera commented.

“Yes,” Nassella responded.

“Demons are shite,” the other woman continued.

Nassella sighed. “Yes, they are.”

Sera huffed. “You’re shite to talk to.”

“Sorry,” Nassella said. “I have a lot on my mind.”

Sera wiggled again. “Like what?”

“Naomi, mostly,” Nassella admitted. “We haven’t heard anything about her.”

“That’s good, yeah?” Sera said. “Mean’s nothing bad’s happened.”

“I… suppose that’s true.” Or it could mean that the _worst_ had happened, and they were just waiting to tell her…

Nassella shook her head, physically trying to remove the thought from her head.

“Besides, Viv and Solas are using all their magicky… magic to fix it.”

“I know.”

“And if _they_ can’t, Widdle will.”

Nassella frowned. “Widdle? Do you mean… Dagna?”

Sera shifted again. “Yeah. ‘Cause she’s so… widdle.”

Nassella’s lips twitched upwards at the nickname, and at the fondness in Sera’s voice. “I’m sorry we’ve been away from Skyhold for so long. You must miss her.”

“Course I do, but we had to clear out the shite in Halamshiral…” Sera grumbled. “I’d like to stick arrows in all their arses… and Coryphefuss’ dangle-bag. Better yet, should have thrown in some bees and slammed the doors.”

“I know what you mean,” Nassella said softly. “I didn’t like any of them by the end of the night.”

“You kept them all.”

Nassella winced, accusation tinging Sera’s voice. “It seemed the best idea at the time… and I still believe they will be more useful stopping Corypheus together.”

Sera blew air past her lips. “Maybe. But you watch out, yeah? The hole in the sky didn’t start their war. Stupid _people_ did that. Still going to be plenty of those after Corypheuns is dead.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Nassella responded. And Sera was right. How long would the peace hold in Orlais? How long would the three she had left in charge back in Halamshiral work together?

But that was a problem for another day, after Corypheus was stopped. Nassella couldn’t worry about that along with everything else.

“What about you?” Sera asked after a moment. “Miss Solas yet?”

Nassella gave up hope of falling to sleep anytime soon. “Yes. I wish he had been able to see the Emerald Graves. He would have enjoyed all of the ruins.” She couldn’t count the number of times she had seen a ruin, came across some elven glyphs, and had no one to talk to about them, no one who could answer her questions.

More air rushed through Sera’s lips. “He would have been extra elfy at that. Glad I didn’t have to hear it.”

“He is an elf, Sera. It makes sense that he’s interested in our history.”

“His head’s stuffed up a thousand years ago,” Sera grumbled. “What good can old ruins do? It’s not going to keep shite empresses’ from letting all her servants get murdered.”

“Well, no, but I don’t see why we can’t care about both.”

“You can’t help little people if your arse is stuck in some temple.”

Nassella chose not to respond. She didn’t want to get dragged into an argument about elven history, not when she was cold, not when she was tired.

But Sera had another point. Nassella’s clan, and the other Dalish scattered around the world, had done what they could to preserve their culture, hold on to what humans had nearly destroyed. But what had they done to help the elves stepped on in Orlais, for the elves enslaved in Tevinter? Was there anything they c _ould_ have done?

Nassella still wasn’t sure.

“I see the way he looks at you. You’re in it.”

Nassella blinked her eyes open. “What?”

“ _Solas_. Bet he calls out ‘elven glory’ when he does it.”

Nassella’s eyes opened wider, realizing what Sera was talking about. “Sera! That’s not… you can’t…”

Sera giggled. “Oh come on! Otherwise it’s all boring, innit? Elf takes the elf so that banging bits will _mean_ something. Drop ‘em and rebuild the empire. _Phwoar!_ ”

Nassella was no longer cold, her body burning. “Sera, I don’t… you’re entirely off course. We haven’t…” And she wasn’t interested in Solas just because he was an elf, and certainly not so she could have children…

Sera’s back pulled away, leaving Nassella’s body exposed to the cold air. Nassella turned, protesting, finding Sera looking down at her with her mouth handing open. “You _haven’t_?”

Nassella turned back around and pulled the furs over her ears, cursing herself for letting that information slip, for allowing herself to be engaged by Sera. “I _really_ don’t want to talk about this.” Or be reminded of how _long_ it had been…

“Hmph!” Sera said, settling back down. Then she giggled. “Dorian was sure he’d win that one.”

Nassella groaned. “There’s a bet?”

Sera laughed. “Course there is. There’s bets on everyone.”

Nassella groaned again. She hadn’t realized there were _more_ bets, bets on _her_ , and wondered when they even found the time to place them. Probably in the tavern. Maybe if she stopped by more often…

“You want in? There’s still one on Josie and Blackwall, Commander Straight-Face and Naomi…”

“What are they still betting on Naomi and Cullen for?”

Sera giggled. “Started when Bull, Dorian, and Varric heard them bumping bits back in Orlais. Varric said they’d be hitched and knocked up by the end of the year. Dorian thinks she already is.”

Nassella shook her head, knowing that both Naomi and Cullen would be mortified to know they had been overheard, that they were the subject of such a bet. And she realized she could clean up, because if Naomi was right, there would never be any children…

Which was a terrible thought.

And Nassella was not in a mood to joke about any of it.

“I’m not interested Sera,” Nassella said sternly. “Goodnight.”

“Fine,” Sera grumbled, falling into silence. But after a moment, she spoke again. “Maybe we could mess with Cully’s desk when we get back, so when they do it, it’s all shifty…”

“Good _night_ Sera,” Nassella repeated, burying herself deeper into the furs. Sera grumbled some more, but finally quieted, though it felt like hours before Nassella finally found sleep, where she dreamed of burning aravals, humid forests, and silverite burned into flesh.

 

* * *

 

Solas did not arrive with the reinforcements.

It was Varric, Cassandra, and James who entered the camp after the sun had set the next day, cold and weary and hungry.

Nassella stared at James as he approached the fire, trying to decide what his presence meant. She had not expected him, but if he was here, then surely Naomi was all right. But Solas hadn’t come, and she didn’t know what that could mean…

James immediately found her and moved closer. She stood, but he stopped a few feet away, so she resisted the urge to throw her arms around his waist. She just looked up into his handsome face, not even bothering to voice her welcome. “How is Naomi?” she asked.

A small frown crossed James’ face that had Nassella’s heart beating faster. “We couldn’t get the amulet out,” he said gruffly.

Nassella’s breath caught. “No…”

“She’s ok,” James added quickly, taking a step closer. But he immediately retreated back with a shake of his head. “She was having mana imbalance, so Solas found a way to drain the mana from her body. That’s why he’s not here, so he can keep helping her.”

Nassella nodded, blinking away the tears that had started to collect in her eyes. Naomi was alive. “Tell me everything.”

It wasn’t as easy as James had initially made it sound.

Nassella stared into the fire, listening with a churning stomach and aching heart as James ate a serving of food and told her and everyone else the entire story, from their rush for Skyhold as Naomi worsened, their failed attempt to remove the amulet that left her nearly dead, the realization it could all happen again if nothing could be done…

But Solas had found a way to help her, which was why James was here, now. The amulet was still inside of Naomi, but it wouldn’t kill her.

So long as Solas was with her. The moment the mana was no longer removed…

“I can’t believe this,” Nassella said, dropping her head into her arms. “I can’t believe I did this to her.”

“No one thinks you did this,” James said. “Especially not Naomi. It was an accident.”

An accident she should have been able to avoid.

“It sounds like she’s going to be all right, Boss,” Bull offered. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

But Nassella wanted to cry. She had almost killed Naomi. As much as she had thought about her since they parted ways, seeing James, _hearing_ what had happened, made it all the more real, made her failure even more obvious.

Nassella stood and began walking toward her tent. She wanted to cry, so that was what she was going to do.

“Hey Ness,” James called. “It’s really ok…”

Nassella shook her head, unable to look at him. It was _his_ sister she had nearly killed. “I just want to be alone,” she whispered before retreating from the fire, securing herself inside of her tent and crawling beneath the furs without bothering to remove any of her outer layers.

She cried, not sure she would ever stop feeling guilty, ever forgive herself for what had happened. She should have gone back to Skyhold with them, should have been there every time Naomi got sick, when they tried to cut out the amulet, when her friend nearly died. She shouldn’t have run away from Naomi, not after hurting her so badly, no matter what her responsibilities as Inquisitor demanded.

She had said she wanted to be alone, but as her tears subsided, Nassella knew it wasn’t true. She didn’t want to huddle around herself to stay warm, keep this guilt contained inside. She wanted to talk, hold someone, _be_ with someone…

And the first person who came to mind was James, probably still sitting around the fire, eating, talking with Bull and Blackwall. She should take comfort in the fact that he had come, that he had felt comfortable enough leaving Naomi behind, but it just made her chest tangle with pain.

She wished Solas had been the one to come with Cassandra and Varric. Solas could hold her, listen to her, be with her. She could think about James, but she didn’t know what she could say, not after leaving the way they had. And he certainly couldn’t hold her, comfort her…

She understood why Solas had stayed behind, and she was glad he was helping Naomi. But she was also disappointed, and lonely, and wanted him with _her_ , to help _her_.

But that was selfish, and she couldn’t be like that, not when Naomi was hurt, not when she had to focus on the people of Emprise du Lion, on the red Templars, on Corypheus. She would just ignore what she wanted, like she always did.

The tent opened, Sera leading Cassandra in and pointing her to an empty corner of the tent. Nassella squeezed her eyes shut and leveled her breathing, pretending to sleep until the other women settled down.

 

* * *

 

They cleared out the red Templars from the quarry the next day, working through level after level until every one of the missing villagers were freed.

They made their way back toward the entrance, avoiding the choking, singing aura of the red lyrium jutting in large, glowing crystals from the quarry’s walls. Occurrence of the substance had increased as they got closer to the quarry, the red lyrium growing through the snow, staining the pristine, white landscape with drops of crimson. Dorian had gotten quieter the longer they were around the heavy concentrations, and she had caught James scowling toward the crystals on more than one occasion, giving them as wide a berth as possible. Being around lyrium while fade-touched seemed to be as uncomfortable as it was for mages. Even Nassella had started to develop a headache by the end of the day.

They searched the now empty quarry as they moved, collecting documents outlining trade-routes, supply requisitions, production reports. A number of them were addressed to or from Samson, Corypheus’ top general. Nassella carefully tucked those away to return to Skyhold and Cullen, hopeful that perhaps an indication of where the bulk of the red Templar forces were hiding could be found.

And then she found a letter mentioning Mistress Poulin, the woman who had originally sold the quarry to the red Templars, indicating that she had been selling villagers to work in the quarry, providing them the slave labor to extract the red lyrium…

Her hands started to tremble as she read the paper, anger tearing through her freezing body with a flash of heat. Just when she thought people could get no worse, that she had encountered the most despicable people the world had to offer, she found something like this, another person sacrificing the lives of others for personal gain, or because it was the easiest option…

And to die like this, from the red lyrium… they had already encountered one woman who succumbed in front of them from the exposure. How many more would die in the coming days, weeks, even months because of what had happened, because of what this woman had done?

Nassella was still upset that night sitting around the fire, picking at the remnants of her food, freezing and sore from the day of fighting. Most of the others had finished their meal, and she didn’t even realize she had drawn the short straw for the first watch until they began wandering off, Dorian and Bull disappearing into their tent, Cassandra and Sera not long after.

She looked up to find James and Blackwall sitting across the fire with their weapons, the low rumble of their voices carrying across the flames as they talked. Nassella watched James and the scrunch of his brow as he concentrated on his work and reacted to what Blackwall was saying.

“How many giants did you end up fighting?”

“Four,” Blackwall answered. “Two we were fighting at the same time when the fight with one attracted another.” Nassella winced. There had been so many giants in the Emerald Graves, and if she never saw another one of the creatures again, it would be too soon.

James shook his head. “Shit.”

“It would have been nice to have you there,” Blackwall said.

“I kind of wish I was there too,” James said, and Nassella saw him glance toward her before frowning down at his sword. “But I guess you guys got through it all right.”

“That we did,” Blackwall said. He slipped his sword back into its sheath, then stood and gave James a pat on the shoulder. “I have the second watch with Sera. Wake me in a few hours.”

James nodded. “Will do.”

“Goodnight Blackwall,” Nassella said. The bearded warrior gave her a small smile and a nod, then faded from view as he left the circle of light cast by the fire.

Which left Nassella alone with James, and as he finished wiping down his blade, Nassella realized she didn’t know what to say to him. One of the last interactions they had had was him yelling at Solas and knocking her to the ground, and before that, before the Winter Palace, she had said she loved him and he had exploded, angrily yelled at her…

She didn’t know what to say, how to just… talk to him, because she wasn’t sure where they stood. He didn’t seem angry or upset… they’d fought together as if nothing had changed, and they talked just fine around the others.

But now they were alone, and the silence between them pressed on Nassella like a weight. It shouldn’t be awkward. It was never awkward with James. She pulled the hood of her cloak further over her head and huddled around her knees, attempting to stave off the cold, even more obvious now that she was sitting alone.

Hours. They had hours before they would wake the next shift, and she didn’t know what to say…

“Are you cold?”

Nassella blinked, looked toward James. He had slipped his sword back into its sheath and was now watching her. She attempted to stop shivering, keep her teeth from clattering together. “I’m fine,” she said, lowering her legs back to the ground. She immediately regretted it as her body returned to shaking.

James raised an eyebrow, then started to shrug out of his cloak. “You’re too small,” he said. “You can’t hold on to body heat.”

“James stop, you need your cloak. I’ll be fine…”

“Seriously Ness, you need this more than I do…”

“James, stop!” He did, cloak draped over his arm, pausing after taking a step toward her. Nassella ducked her head. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “But you’ll be cold too…”

Snow crunched as James walked around the fire, and Nassella lifted her head when she felt the cloak draped across her shoulders. Then James sat down next to her, wrapping the other half of the cloak around his body. He settled further into his seat, his leg brushing against hers. “Now neither of us will be cold.”

Nassella couldn’t move, a little shocked that James was now suddenly so close, the heat from his body seeping into hers, her feet and hands tingling as feeling began to return, her ears starting to burn as they thawed. And he smelled. Not badly. No, it was sweat and oil and metal and earth, a warm, spicy scent that tickled her nose and made her heart race.

For a moment, they just sat. Nassella stared at the fire, breathing in James’s sent, soaking in his warmth, still not sure what to say, what to do. Dorian had set wards around the camp, so there was no need to walk the perimeter, or really pay attention. There would be light and noise if anything approached…

“I’m sorry Ness,” James murmured quietly. Nassella swallowed and glanced up toward his face. “I was a jerk back at the ball, and… well I’m sorry. And if you want me to sit somewhere else, I can leave you the cloak…”

“No, don’t leave,” Nassella whispered, pulling the cloak more firmly around her shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize either…”

“Yeah I do,” James insisted. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, and that I pushed you, and that I got so angry at Solas. It was… wrong and uncalled for and I’m sorry and I should have said all of this sooner. And I… don’t want our friendship to be ruined because of it.”

“It’s not ruined James,” Nassella said.

James cleared his throat. “Oh. I thought… well you’ve been so quiet…”

“That’s not because of you…” She sat up a little straighter. “Well, not entirely,” she added, mumbling.

“Then what’s… bothering you?”

Nassella tugged on one of her earlobes. “Everything,” she admitted. “Today in the quarry was horrible, I still don’t know if I did the right thing at the Winter Palace, the Emerald Graves were… terrible, with the giants…” she shook her head. “And I almost killed Naomi, James… I can’t… can’t stop thinking about everything that happened, how scared she must have been, and in how much pain…” She was crying, thinking about everything she had done.

James worked his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his body. Her crying immediately stopped, finding herself pressed against him…

“Hey, Ness, it’s ok. I mean… maybe not Orlais. I don’t know how that will turn out. But… you made it through the giants, and the red Templars are almost gone here, and Naomi is all right, Ness. She really is…”

Nassella swallowed, but made no attempt to extract herself from James’ arm. “I hurt her James, and then I left her. I just... feel so guilty…”

“You know what would probably hurt her more?” James said quietly. “Knowing that _you_ are so upset about this. She doesn’t blame you Ness, and she wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about any of it. For God’s sake… she forgave someone who _intentionally_ hurt her, and wanted to… to do more…” He let out a long sigh. “Fuck, she’s been trying to help the fucking bastard… Do you really think she would be angry with _you_? For an accident?”

“It doesn’t matter if she’s angry, I still did this to her. She almost _died._ ”

James sighed. “But she _didn’t._ ” His hand squeezed her shoulder. “She blames herself, Ness. And I… don’t know how to make you feel less guilty, but I _know_ that Naomi wouldn’t want you to be this upset. She wouldn’t want you to be worried about her and beating yourself up. You have so much more to focus on.”

And Nassella didn’t know if it was what James said, or having him hold her, but she started to feel better. Warmer, at least, and she didn’t want to cry, and the ache in her chest had started to subside. She knew Naomi wouldn’t be angry, knew she would be forgiven. James didn’t know, but Alec wasn’t the first person Naomi had forgiven for hurting her…

Nassella knew James was right. Naomi wouldn’t want her to be guilty, or upset, or angry with herself…

But Nassella couldn’t stop. Until she saw Naomi, saw that the other woman was all right, talked to her, she didn’t think she could really forgive herself.

“Were the giants really that bad?”

Nassella nodded. “Blackwall wasn’t the only one who wished you were there.”

“I figured you were glad to get away from me,” James mumbled.

Nassella sighed. “I _was_ upset with you,” she said. “But James… I’m not mad at you. And I know I… shouldn’t have said what I did…” Telling him she loved him, when she was with another man, when she knew he was with another woman… It had been foolish and hurtful and selfish, another mistake to add to her list. “I understand why you were angry with me, and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong Ness,” James said quietly, and his hand left her shoulder, returning to his own lap. But his leg stayed pressed against hers. “You just caught me off guard and I…” He cleared his throat. “I overreacted. You can… love your friends, and I’m… honored to be considered one of them.” He took a deep breath, his leg bouncing slightly. “I was afraid I had ruined that, and it… killed me, because I… love being your friend, and I don’t… want to lose any more people. Aside from Naomi, you’re the… the closest thing I have to family…” He trailed off, the bouncing of his leg growing stronger.

Nassella looked up at his face, his brows for once smooth, expression vulnerable as he stared into the fire. And her traitorous body wanted to throw her arms around him, kiss his stubbled cheek, then his lips…

She pushed those impulses away, wishing she could destroy them for good. But when James was like this, open and caring, trying to comfort her, she was reminded of why she loved him, why it was impossible to forget how good it felt to be with him.

And she couldn’t run away. Not just because they were stuck on the watch together.

He had just admitted he considered her his family, and Nassella realized she felt the same. The thought of not having him in her life, no matter in what way, made her chest ache.

So since he did not want her, and she was involved with another, she _had_ to find a way to be around him without betraying her feelings. She could not afford another slip-up like when they had danced together before the ball…

“You didn’t lose me,” she whispered, gently resting her hand on his knee, stilling the nervous motion of his leg. “It will take a bit more than a couple of arguments to get rid of me.”

She watched his lips turn up in a brief, small smile. “I fought with my parents all the time,” he continued quietly. “And they died after a fight… I told myself I wouldn’t let that happen again, but then you left to fight giants and stuff, after everything…” He let out a long breath. “I almost lost Naomi, and then I could have lost you on bad terms.” His eyes met hers. “I don’t want to let that happen, so I’m… going to try to not get angry so much. And Solas...” He looked away. “I’m not entirely sure why I… don’t like him so much. I think part of it is… how much he likes the Fade. It’s weird… though Naomi says she’s started to like it, so I don’t know…” He shook his head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I know you like him, so I’m not going to argue with him about things anymore. I promise.”

Nassella’s throat was aching. He didn’t talk about it often, but James was still broken, his life and the relationships he cared about destroyed by Corypheus and the creation of the Breach, clinging to whatever he could find in the new, chaotic world where he found himself.

She knew how he felt, and she would not stand to lose him either.

And he might not love her, but he cared. He said she was his family, and he was willing to put aside his grievances for her sake.

He was making it very difficult to not love him…

But she had to try, because he had still hurt her. He could say he wanted to change, but that didn’t mean he would, or even could. _Solas has never hurt me,_ she reminded herself. _He’s better for me._

“Thank you,” she told James, still willing to mend what she could between them. “Let’s leave it at that, and… move on.”

“Ok,” James whispered.

They were silent for a moment, and Nassella breathed easier, the silence no longer pressing on her body, instead allowing her to focus on the warmth of his presence, the steady feel of his body next to hers.

“How was your journey here?” she finally asked.

“Fine,” James said. “We came across a bear back in the Frostbacks, but otherwise nothing really happened.” Then he shook his head. “Seriously, the worst thing was probably listening to Cassandra and Varric bicker. I don’t think I’ve ever travelled with just them for so long. I swear, every conversation just ended with them throwing jabs at each other.”

Nassella chuckled. “They have a history.”

“I figured that.”

Nassella adjusted the cloak so it better covered her head. “Varric was in Kirkwall leading up to the mage rebellion, and Cassandra questioned him about it, since he was friends with Hawke.”

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“Well, I don’t think Varric appreciated being accused by Cassandra of contributing to everything… though she might not actually have been accusing him of anything. And then she brought him to the Conclave, against his will from what I gather, to tell the story to the Divine. And then there was the whole Hawke thing, and that Varric didn’t tell Cassandra he knew where he was.”

“I’d forgotten about Hawke.” James shook his head. “But most of the time they weren’t fighting about any of that. It was just… things about setting up camp, or directions.”

Nassella laughed again. “Don’t worry, they like each other more than it sounds.”

“Well, I’m glad to have some others around to ease the tension.”

Nassella grinned, realizing the tension between them had all but disappeared, that they could talk as they had before…

A burst of light flashed through the camp, and James was on his feet before Nassella could blink to clear her vision. She stood as well, glancing around to see what ward had been triggered.

But it wasn’t a ward, instead more light sparked from Dorian and Bull’s tent, followed by a low growl, then a soft groan. She heard Dorian curse, and then the camp returned to silence and darkness as the mage reset the silencing wards. Nassella sat back on her log, looking up at James still frowning toward the tent.

“Are they…?”

“Having sex?” Nassella asked. “Yes.”

“Oh,” James whispered, sitting slowly back down. Nassella watched his face, still frowning. “How…?” he murmured.

“Curious?” Nassella teased.

She saw his face flushing red in the light of the fire. “No!” he exclaimed.

Nassella laughed. “Do you need me to explain what happens when a man loves another man?”

James wrapped the cloak firmly around his shoulders, then rubbed a hand over his face. “ _No_ ,” he repeated. “I’ve just… _seen_ Bull,” he admitted. “It doesn’t seem… possible. Unless Dorian…” He groaned, covering his eyes again. “Never mind.”

Nassella couldn’t stop laughing, and realized it was the first time she had laughed in days. “With enough care, time, and preparation, _anything_ is possible James.”

“Please stop,” James mumbled. “I’m sorry I asked.”

Nassella chuckled. “You’ve had to listen to Cassandra and Varric bicker, but this is what _I’ve_ been dealing with for the past couple of weeks.”

“I’ll count myself lucky then.”

Nassella smiled to herself and snuggled further under James’ cloak, no longer worried about finding a way to talk to him for the rest of their watch.


	97. Freezing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW toward the beginning.
> 
> I stayed up way too late and avoided grading to finish this. I have no regrets. Enjoy!

Naomi clenched her fists, focused on the wall of air she had shaped from the Fade between her and Solas, resisting as he pushed back with force of his own. It took every ounce of her concentration to keep the barrier in place, and she knew that Solas could break through at any moment, but it was getting easier to hold her own, had been getting easier for days.

It was like this every night, working with the mage, exerting her influence over the Fade so that she could better protect herself, would not find herself at the mercy of a more powerful demon again. She had focused on manipulating earth, water, and the air around her the most, as they proved the easiest to change. Not only were they the simplest aspects of the Fade to access, but they were the most responsive to her will, bending and moving with little thought. She had tried to use other objects as well when defending herself, constructed walls out of brick or metal, attacked with shards of glass or hurled projectiles. While it was possible, it was slower, and Solas had explained that those objects created by humans with intent were more difficult to change, had a fundamental purpose that resisted alteration even in the Fade. And Naomi felt it every time she tried to bend a brick wall or throw a volley of random objects as a distraction. Felt the lag, the hesitation of those things to move beyond their intended purpose. She could recreate an exact replica of a room with barely a thought, but to knock those walls down, throw a bed across the room, took far more focus, and time she wouldn’t necessarily have in a conflict.

But moving the earth around her, stones and dirt, and the water and air… that was easy. Naomi had never tried before, but she had found quite quickly that the analogues of natural aspects of the physical world could be pushed in amazing ways in the Fade, that the only limit to what she could do was her own imagination.

She had asked Solas if manipulating the Fade was like using magic. He had shaken his head, his eyes taking a distant cast, before telling her no, that it was not like using magic, not anymore. It was easier in the Fade, he had said, to influence their surroundings, that mages were always fighting, always struggling to access the energy needed to change the world around them, and that some things were beyond reach, could just not be changed with their limited abilities.

“There was a time when magic came as natural as breathing, when magic moved through the world with subtle beauty. In Arlathan, spells took years to cast. Echoes would linger for centuries, harmonizing with new magic in an unending symphony.” He had shaken his head again, meeting her gaze, the distant look disappearing. “It must have been beautiful,” he had added, a hint of longing in his voice.

“What happened?” Naomi had asked. “Why are things different now?”

She had been entirely unable to read his expression. “It was lost to time.”

Baffled, Naomi had wanted to press, inquire further, but Solas had initiated a sparring match, and she had needed to focus on blocking his advances with walls of earth, with swipes of the wind, forgetting to return to the conversation before it was time to wake, to face her day of working in the stables and the undercroft.

With a final push Solas broke past her barrier of air, and Naomi let her control go with a gasp. But Solas was not finished, and Naomi found herself dodging a burst of flames, reacted by bringing a wall of stone between her and Solas, the fire from his staff licking harmlessly against the other side.

Naomi knew Solas was not intending to hurt her, that any attack would be pulled back before it could do serious harm. But those flames would still hurt. Her heart was racing, and Naomi realized immediately it had been a mistake to put something so solid between herself and the elf, that she had no way of knowing what he would do next. She allowed the wall to crumble, and watched as Solas twirled his staff, more orange energy collecting to hurl toward her…

A pool of water appeared between them, and every time Solas sent a ball of fire toward her, Naomi made a stream of water jump from the puddle’s surface, intercepting the flames and reducing them to puffs of steam before they could reach her, concentrating all of her effort on aiming correctly. For several moments things remained much the same, though Solas gradually increased the pace of his attacks. And then he took an extra few seconds to collect himself, before hurling several balls of flame simultaneously.

Naomi briefly hesitated, tried to decide which threat to address first. But then instead of picking the flames off one by one, she simply raised the water between them into a wall, thin and clear, distorting the image of the elf and the fire through its rippling surface, the flames hissing when they made contact. Safe from the fire, Naomi moved the wall forward, collapsing if over Solas’s body, leaving the elf soaked through. Then she froze the water, grinning slightly at the frown that crossed Solas’s features when he was unable to move his feet.

Solas melted the ice and lowered his staff, clothes dry in the next instant. “That was new,” he said, a small smile raising the corner of his mouth.

Naomi smiled. “Well, hopefully a demon that throws fire at me wouldn’t respond well to getting wet.”

“It is a fair assumption,” Solas said. “And could prove to be an effective technique if faced with such a danger.”

Naomi removed the water between them and moved closer to the elf. “I am sorry about getting you wet. I probably should have warned you.”

Solas shook his head. “There is no need.” Then he smiled. “I will simply have to increase my own attacks in the future.”

Naomi nodded. “I’m ready to go again…”

She jumped, gasped, and brought a hand to her neck when another shiver ran across her skin, traveled down her spine. The link guiding her back to her body tugged, flared, and though it was never far from her mind, something she checked on several times a night, it now became impossible to ignore.

“Is something the matter?” Solas asked, a single eyebrow raised above his gray eyes.

Naomi shook her head. “I’m just being woken up…”

The nerves in her neck flared again, and as that link insistently tried to pull her back, Naomi felt more and more, the sensations her physical body was experiencing leaking into the Fade. There was always this time of transition between the Fade and the waking world when it was difficult to differentiate the two, when her mind and body felt both, and right now, Naomi was feeling Cullen.

Heat from his body pressed against the back of hers, and her skin, clothed in the Fade but bare in Cullen’s bed, tingled as he touched her, his lips brushing her neck, followed by a gentle nip of his teeth. One of her nipples sparked, hardened even in the Fade as his fingers tugged gently on her flesh, and his other hand was left a trail of fire down her stomach. Naomi felt the heat growing in her core, and when Cullen dipped his fingers between her thighs to stroke at her folds she suppressed the urge to moan, pleasure shooting through her body.

“I’ll, um… see you tomorrow night...” Naomi told Solas, attempting to keep her voice even, though her heart and breath had started to race. _Wake up my love…_ rumbled in her ear, and Naomi’s mind went blank.

Solas’s smile was amused, knowing. “Yes, tomorrow. It’s best you not keep Cullen waiting.”

Burning, Naomi grasped that link and pulled, every sensation she had been feeling doubling as she woke, her body pulled snug against the hard planes of Cullen’s body, his hands wrapped around her, working at her breast, at her clit. She let out a low groan when he rolled his hips, the firm press of his erection pushing hot between her legs.

“Good morning,” he growled into her ear, cupping her breast and rocking more snugly against her ass.

“Yes it is,” Naomi mumbled, arching her back, grinding herself against his cock. Cullen chuckled and kissed the skin behind her ear. Naomi cracked her eyes open, still a little sleepy, surprised to find it nearly dark. “How early is it?”

“Early,” Cullen whispered, still moving against her backside. “But I didn’t want to leave without at least saying good morning,” he said. He moved his hand further between her legs, sinking his fingers into her sex. Naomi gasped, thrusting as much as she could against his digits.

“I hope that wasn’t all you wanted to do,” she said, turning her face until she could brush her lips against his. “I missed you last night…”

Cullen growled, pulling her body so she was on her back, his own body hovering above hers. “No, that wasn’t all,” he murmured, lowering himself down, pressing her into the mattress. His lips nipped at her neck, followed by a roll of his hips against hers. “I realized it’s been over a day since I last made you come.”

Naomi muffled a moan, her sex pulsing, needing him inside of her. “You should fix that then,” she gasped, his hand back between her legs.

“Oh, I intend to,” Cullen said, smiling as he took her lips in a deep, slow kiss, working himself toward, and then into her entrance.

Naomi stroked Cullen’s back when they were finished, breathless and spent, tangled together beneath the sheets and blankets shielding them from the freezing chill of the morning air drifting through the hole still punched in the ceiling of Cullen’s office loft. Out of every strange and terrible thing that had happened in her life, waking to find Cullen sharing her bed still caught Naomi by surprise, still seemed the most unbelievable thing, to have someone like him that loved her the way he did…

Cullen lifted himself up and met her eyes, lips turned up in a small, satisfied smile. She smiled back. “You are so beautiful,” he said, eyes roaming over her face.

And she still blushed, after everything, hearing him say it. “And so are you,” she said, reaching for his jaw, redirecting the compliment. “Absolutely perfect.” Cullen laughed and moved himself off of her body, laying by her side. Naomi followed, pressing herself against the heat of his body. “Waking up is much easier when you’re doing the waking,” she added.

“You don’t mind that it was so early?”

Naomi shook her head and worked her leg between his. “Like I said, I missed you last night, though,” she added, burying her hand in the heat between their bodies, “maybe next time you should wake me up entirely before kissing and getting me all worked up.”

Cullen frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t mind me waking you like that.”

“I don’t,” Naomi reassured him. “But I’ve been training with Solas, and it’s… a little embarrassing to get aroused in front of him.”

Cullen laughed softly, but nodded. “My apologies. I will refrain from touching you until you are fully awake.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “So why were you so late last night? You said you only had a few minutes left of work.”

Cullen sighed. “I received a flurry of reports not long after you came up here. They gave some indication of what Corypheus’ next move may be. I had to spend time combing through them. Corypheus is scrambling after his loss at the Winter Palace, and we must press our advantage.”

Naomi nodded her understanding. “And what does it look like he’s doing next?”

“The red Templars seem to be moving on the Arbor Wilds. What they are doing there, however, is yet to be seen. As far as I know, the area is nearly deserted, with only elven ruins among the trees.”

That conversation with Solas came back to mind. “Solas told me that the elves magic sometimes lingered for years after it was cast. Maybe there is still something there that Corypheus wants.”

Cullen frowned. “He will need magic to enter the Fade… perhaps you are right.”

Naomi ran her fingers across Cullen’s chest. “There’s going to be another battle.”

Cullen’s hold tightened. “Yes,” was all he said.

Another battle. Another chance to lose someone she loved.

But Naomi didn’t want to think about that, not after nearly losing her own life. And there was nothing she could do to change it. The people she loved were committed to saving their world, and she would never ask them to stop what they did. She couldn’t.

“I should go,” Cullen murmured, reaching to kiss her forehead. “I need to see how the training is coming in the camp below, and then a full day of meetings and planning.”

Naomi nodded, shivering slightly as Cullen pulled away and out of the bed. She considered that she would have time to stay in bed, to sleep for another hour or so before facing the day. But if she got up now, she could finish her work in the stables sooner, giving her more time in the undercroft, and she and Dagna had _finally_ gotten the microscope to work in a way she was happy with…

So as she watched Cullen move around the loft, showing no indication that his naked body was affected by the cold, Naomi mentally prepared herself for the shock it would be to leave the warmth of the bed. “Do you think you would have some time later to come to the undercroft?” she asked as Cullen pulled smalls and trousers over his legs. “I’d like to show you something.”

Cullen slipped his arms through a long-sleeved tunic. “I can try,” he said. “But so far my day is very full.”

“Well, if you get a chance,” Naomi said, eyeing where her clothes were huddled on the floor across the loft, cursing herself for not leaving them closer to the bed. It was still warm enough after the day to forget just how icy the night became. With a deep breath and a final push to harden her resolve, Naomi threw the blankets from her body, still gasping at the shock of the temperature difference, and rolled from the bed, her toes curling in protest as they contacted the chilly wood of the floorboards. She half-skipped across the room, arms firmly crossed over her breasts, reaching for her bundle of clothes.

“Fuck,” she swore, finding her garments dusted with a fine white powder. Naomi looked toward the hole in the ceiling, not directly above, but still shedding a few small, white flecks toward the floor in the dim light. More snow had fallen over the course of the night, unsurprising for autumn at this elevation, or even considering whatever magic kept Skyhold warmer than the worst of the surrounding mountains, and a draft had carried the icy crystals across the room to settle on her clothes. And though cold, it was now above freezing, and some of that frozen liquid had started to melt…

“Dammit,” Naomi swore again, bending to shake the flakes from her tunic and breeches, body shaking in the cold, recoiling at the thought of putting those chilled fabrics over her skin.

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked, pulling boots over his feet.

“I just got snow on my clothes,” she said, giving her smalls a final shake before jamming her legs through the appropriate holes. “I left them too close to the opening, and now they’re a little wet…” She gasped at the feel of the cold fabric between her legs, in stark contrast to the heat that remained after her romp with Cullen, a trickle of his seed cooling against her inner thigh. She winced, knowing she should clean herself before going to the stables, and that it was a little past time to change the smalls she was now wearing. She pulled on her breeches, a wet patch doing nothing to warm her right thigh. “I’ll need to run back to my room to change,” she continued, quickly covering her torso, not even bothering to put on her icy breast band.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said, his footsteps crossing the loft toward her, followed by the weight of his furred cloak on her shoulders. Naomi grasped the fabric to her body, a memory flashing through her mind of Cullen doing the same thing the winter before, a little stunned to consider how far they had come since that night. Naomi turned to face him with a shrug.

“I shouldn’t have put them so close to the hole. And really, I should remember to bring a change of clothes when I spend the night here.”

But Cullen was frowning. “I… sometimes forget how cold it gets…”

Naomi glanced back at the hole. “Isn’t this where you stayed last winter?” she asked.

She wasn’t sure if the flush of red across Cullen’s face was from the cold or from embarrassment. “Truthfully, I spent few nights up here,” he told her, eyes cast aside. “More often than not I worked late and fell asleep at my desk, or simply worked through the night. And when I did sleep… well, my symptoms were worse and I enjoyed the brisk air, and seeing the open sky after a nightmare…” He swallowed, then sighed, eyes once again meeting hers. “It wasn’t until you that I really had the desire to come to a bed every night.”

Naomi’s chest panged a little. She knew she had not seen Cullen at his worst, and it hurt to imagine him alone, working through the night to avoid his nightmares. And she could see how the cold air would be comforting if his body burned from withdrawal, that the shock could bring him back to himself faster after a nightmare.

“Don’t worry,” she told him, regretting her complaints. “I’ll just be more careful in the future and bring more layers.” She slipped her arms around his waist and smiled. “Besides, I’m plenty warm when you’re around.”

Cullen’s brow smoothed, and he reached for her face, guiding her lips to his. He sighed when he pulled away. “I will try my best to make time to see you later,” he said.

 

\----- 

 

Naomi stared at the paper in front of her, trying to remember the next step in the formula she was working through, resisting the urge to check her notes, determined to learn the math needed to create her own lenses in the future. She couldn’t rely on the expertise of Dagna forever, and in a world without Internet, Naomi was more and more aware that anything she wanted to do would largely depend on her own abilities.

And though she had always done well in math, had even taken advanced physics courses in high school, Naomi was finding the work somewhat difficult. She had never been surer that Dagna was a genius than when it came to this microscope, and the ability of the dwarf to figure out the appropriate equations needed to create tiny lenses that could see small objects by simply studying a telescope.

Naomi wanted to be able to do the same, or at least understand what Dagna had done to bring her dream of a microscope into reality. So she stared at the sample problems Dagna had given her, working through theoretical situation after theoretical situation until she could create another microscope on her own.

_With these two radii, the focal length of such a lens would be…_

_The total magnification… divide the length of the tube by the focal length…_

_If I wanted this magnification, I would need this lens, and it should be this distance from the object…_

After several moments Naomi sat back, resting a hand on her stomach, taking a few deep breaths to keep it calm. She looked toward Dagna, wondering how much longer it would be before the dwarf finished her adjustments on the ring. While it worked most of the time, Naomi still woke every few mornings with a queasy stomach that took a few moments to clear, and every now and then too much physical activity sent her heart racing and stomach heaving in an uncomfortable combination. Dagna thought it was because mana did not collect in her body consistently, and that sometimes the ring would not match in how it drained the mana. So she had already made some adjustments, attempting to improve the sensitivity of the magic to Naomi’s body, and she was doing it now for the fourth time.

It still wasn’t perfect, but Naomi had started to believe that her life would largely be normal once the kinks were worked out. And she was glad for the colder weather, despite the slight discomfort of that morning, because it meant she could cover the amulet easily with her clothes. Maybe by the time spring returned she would be ready to show her chest to the world, but in the meantime, only Cullen would see that part of her.

Cullen. Naomi sighed, running her fingertips over the empty space left by the ring’s absence, already so accustomed to wearing the object that having it gone felt strange. He had put it on her left hand, on the finger reserved in her world for engagement and marriage rings. Naomi had thought to tell him, to insist that she should wear the ring on another finger, but the same symbolism clearly didn’t hold here in Thedas, so she had stayed silent, and Cullen didn’t realize what he had done.

He hadn’t asked her to marry him, but ever since he had put that ring on her hand, the thought had run through Naomi’s mind. And she was afraid to bring it up, unsure of what Cullen would say, how he would react. He had said before that he wanted to spend his life with her, that when he thought of the future, it included her. But there was something different about the possibility of discussing marriage, of permanently binding themselves together.

Naomi knew she would marry Cullen, that she wanted him to be in her life forever. But though it was something she wanted, it also scared her. For so long, marriage had been so far away, and finding herself in a relationship like this… it was still strange, and she hesitated to do anything that might upset the normalcy they had found. And she couldn’t deny that the future still felt too uncertain to make such a step. Just that morning Cullen had admitted that more battles were ahead, that he was still in danger. She did everything she could to avoid thinking of losing him, but when she did, the thought of losing him as her husband hurt more, in a way, than if he was just her lover.

It was safer then, to say nothing, to let their relationship progress as it was. She wouldn’t risk changing anything, of upsetting their dynamic, simply because Cullen had made a cross-cultural mistake. So she wore the ring on her left hand and tried to avoid thinking about what it meant.

She returned to her calculations, finally giving in and pulling out her notes to help her along, hoping that the next time she tried would go better. Once those were worked through, she turned to her notes outlining experiments.

There was still so much she needed to do before she could really move forward. The microscope was now working, but if she wanted to work with bacteria she needed to find a suitable medium for growing the organisms, which could prove to be difficult. Agar on Earth had been derived from algae, and Naomi wasn’t sure that such an analog existed in Thedas. Her plan so far was to experiment with gelatin, and expand from there.

There was also the matter of effectively sterilizing instruments, and incubating warm-loving species. She had notes to talk to Dagna for help, but had hesitated to ask the dwarf for anything else, after the microscope and the ring.

Dying cells was another thing she needed before she could effectively study bacteria. She already had a list of possibilities to try, but would need workable bacteria for that to happen…

Any further experiments depended on the success of her attempts at creating methods that could be used to study bacteria. She envisioned roughly identifying species based on their shape, and the way they grew, potentially linking certain types of bacteria to illnesses, that could then help when treating patients…

And then could begin the work of finding _new_ treatments, compounds in plants that killed certain species. Of course, that could bring problems, as Naomi remembered the way bacteria evolved quickly. But she believed her world was better off, ultimately, for the advances made in medicine, and hoped the same could be said for Thedas…

Not to mention her pages filled with her plans for lyrium, the steps she would need to take in order to research its nature, and possible ways to treat withdrawal…

But she wasn’t sure any of it would mean anything. Because even as she designed her experiments and made her plans, she didn’t know how she would spread her results. As far as she knew Thedas had no framework for spreading scientific knowledge, and even if there was, she was so far removed that she had a difficult time seeing how she could possibly contribute. She could run her experiments all she wanted, but if no one heard her results, or took her seriously, it would mean nothing.

“Try this,” Dagna said, startling Naomi slightly when she spoke from next to her shoulder. Naomi turned to find the dwarf’s palm extended, offering the emerald ring.

“Thanks Dagna,” Naomi said, taking the ring and slipping it onto her hand. The flow of energy in her body shifted, ran down her hand into the emerald, and Naomi breathed a sigh of relief as the nausea in her stomach reduced, then disappeared. “So far so good.”

Dagna smiled. “How’s it going over here?”

Naomi shrugged. “Mostly fine. I’m still not entirely confident with the calculations, but I’ll get there. Maybe tomorrow you could start teaching me how to grind lenses?”

“Sure!” Dagna said cheerfully. “It’s really not that complicated, once you have the right molds to use, but it takes some practice.”

Naomi nodded. “That’s what I expected.” She glanced toward the waterfall, the sky dark beyond the falling water. “I suppose it’s about time for dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Dagna said, placing both hands on her stomach and chuckling. Naomi turned to blow out the candles nestled among the things on her desk. “Sorry Cullen didn’t make it down today,” Dagna added as Naomi stood.

“He’s busy,” Naomi said, even as she felt the twinge of disappointment press on her chest. “He’ll find time eventually.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen exited the war room, following Josephine and Leliana as the two women chatted about some new arrivals from Orlais, discussing the importance of having such distinguished guests among them in the Inquisition. While Cullen could do without the added presence of even more Orlesian nobles with their masks, he had to admit that the added financial support that had come after their success at the Winter Palace was not unwelcome, and would likely be needed by the end of their campaign to stop Corypheus.

In fact, he knew the resources would be needed, as it was clear their army would need to move to the Arbor Wilds soon, as even more evidence had been brought to their attention that the forests were Corypheus’ next target. And he was glad that the civil war in the neighboring country had been resolved, and that Gaspard and the Chevaliers and the army would be available to help with their attack.

In addition, Morrigan had been among the arrivals in Skyhold that day, come to fill her post as the liaison between Orlais and the Inquisition. The mage had been accompanied by a series of wagons, one loaded with a large, covered object that she had immediately directed moved to an empty room in a far corner of the fortress. She had refused to reveal what lay beneath the covers, and Cullen was still unhappy with the woman for her secrecy.

And then she had arrived in their meeting, sweeping into the room as if she had been invited all along. It had rankled Cullen, at first, but the woman had brought even more evidence that the Arbor Wilds were important, confirmed the reports of red Templars sacking elven ruins across Thedas, and convinced him that the Inquisition would be better off moving as soon as possible against Corypheus and his plans, uncertain as they still were. Morrigan had suggested she knew what Corypheus sought in the Wilds, but refused to say anything more until the Inquisitor had returned. Then she had swept from the room as quickly as she had come.

It still angered Cullen that she was keeping potentially important information to herself, and only calmed himself with the knowledge that Nassella was believed to return within the next few days, word reaching them that she had already left Emprise du Lion after taking Suledin Keep back from a demon.

They passed into Josephine’s office, and Cullen was about to make his escape when the Antivan woman turned toward him with a grin. “I have requests for information on your lineage from a few… _interested_ parties at the Winter Palace.”

Cullen came to a halt as Leliana giggled. He thought he had left that behind in Orlais, the Orlesians with their suggestive comments and f _ar_ too forward physical advances… “Andraste preserve me,” he muttered, rubbing his temples with his hand. “Feel free to use those requests as kindling.” The last thing he wanted was to entertain the idea of being courted by some unknown Orlesian noble. And Josephine _knew_ that, knew he was deeply involved…

“No, I shall take them,” Leliana interrupted, still laughing. “I want to know who pines for our Commander. We can use this to our advantage.”

Cullen glared at the spymaster. “I am not bait,” he told her sternly. But Leliana just grinned.

“Hush, just look pretty.”

Cullen mumbled another curse beneath his breath. That had been his role for much of the time at the Winter Palace, to stand in a corner and pretend to enjoy himself while he stood, one of the only bare faces in the entire room, and ‘looked pretty’. He knew he was not an unattractive man, but he had not wanted that sort of attention then, and he certainly had no intention of continuing the farce into the future.

_Especially_ considering that he was entirely unavailable, something that should make any inquiry into his lineage met with a swift rebuke. Josephine and Leliana continued to grin, and their teasing settled in Cullen’s mind something he had been considering the entire day.

“Josephine,” he said, turning to the ambassador, praying Leliana would let the letters go. “I would like to speak with you about my quarters.”

Josephine raised an eyebrow. “Do you finally intend to fix the hole in your ceiling?” she asked.

Her perceptiveness caught him off guard, even if she was not entirely correct. “I… not exactly, but it is related. How did you know?”

But it was Leliana who laughed. “Come now Cullen, I do not expect Naomi would be happy to spend the entire winter under such conditions. Even with you to keep her warm.”

Cullen flushed, both women continuing to hit too close to his conversation with Naomi that morning. “Yes, well, I realized that as well, and thought perhaps it was time to consolidate our sleeping arrangements.”

“Consolidate?” Josephine asked with a small grin.

She was going to make him spell out everything, Cullen realized with an internal groan. “I would like to offer to share quarters with her, and you had mentioned there was space in the main tower for rooms of my own…”

“Months ago, yes I had said there were rooms available.”

Had it really been months? Cullen supposed it had been, from nearly their first days in Skyhold… “I understand if that can no longer be arranged…”

“Of course it can be arranged,” Josephine said, cheerfully, walking to her desk to make a note. “Our Commander really should have his own rooms in the main keep.”

“There are a set of apartments just below the Inquisitor that would do nicely,” Leliana offered.

“Oh yes, those are quite lovely. And the Marquis and Marquise just left last week…”

“We wouldn’t need much,” Cullen continued, afraid the ambassador and spymaster would get carried away. “Just a single room would be enough…”

“Don’t worry yourself,” Josephine said, leaning against her desk, pen still in hand. “I’m sure you and Naomi will be pleased with these new arrangements.”

“What brought this about?” Leliana asked, arms crossed and hip cocked. “Are there any _additional_ changes we should be expecting in the future?” And by her tone, Cullen suspected she was fishing for something big.

But any such changes would have to wait until Corypheus had been dealt with. The most Cullen could reliably offer Naomi was a complete roof over her head for the winter.

Cullen shook his head, ready to leave the two women to their gossip and speculation. “It was simply cold this morning,” he said as explanation, and retreated to the great hall.

Not that the great hall offered much retreat, packed as the room was for the serving of the evening meal. Cullen had not realized how late the hour had grown, and remembered that Naomi had wanted him to come to the undercroft, that she had been excited to show him something…

Hoping he had not missed her, Cullen crossed to the door behind the throne to find her, barely taking two steps toward the buried cave when the door into the crafting space opened, Dagna and Naomi chatting as they moved to ascend the stairs.

Naomi saw him first, face lighting up with a smile when their eyes met. “You came!” she said, pausing her ascent as he continued toward her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dagna said, passing Cullen with a smile. Cullen reached Naomi.

“Of course I came,” he said.

Naomi’s steps were a little rushed as she led him back into the undercroft and across the floor, hurrying to light a candle from a wall sconce and bringing it to her desk.

Her workspace was covered in stacks of books and rolls of parchment, papers pushed into a haphazard pile along one end. A second table nearby was covered in glassware, jars of liquid and stacks of dried plants, mortar and pestle of various sizes lined up along one edge. And there, on the second table, was the microscope Naomi had been so excited about.

She carefully lifted the object, transferring it to a space she had cleared on her desk. Cullen watched her light a candle, position it carefully near the shining metal cylinder, and place a curved, mirror-like hood over the flame, directing the light back toward the base of the microscope.

“I want to show you cells,” she said, reaching for a small, rectangular piece of glass.

“Those things you say make up our bodies?” Cullen asked.

Naomi nodded, grabbing a small stick from a cubby in the shelves against the back of the desk. “I’ll just show you one type… which is actually an idea for something else I could do…” she mused, putting down the things she had collected, writing a note in one of her books. “Bodies are made up of many different types of cells, and I could describe and illustrate them…” She picked the stick back up, then ran it along the inside of her cheek. “But that’s for another day,” she said when she removed it from her mouth. Cullen watched her smear the bit of collected saliva along the glass surface. Then she put a small drop of water over the smear, then a second drop, this time some sort of ink.

“What are you trying to look at?” Cullen asked as she carefully put a second, thinner piece of glass over the spit and water and ink. “It didn’t look like there was anything there.”

Naomi grinned, carefully putting the piece of glass on a stand beneath the cylinder of the microscope. “You’ll see,” she said, moving the candle until light fell across the glass. Then she ran her finger against a curved bubbled of glass below the entire apparatus, more light sparking into life from its center. “Dagna made this light,” she said, bringing an eye to the top of the cylinder, fingers fiddling with a series of knobs. “It’s pretty amazing the things she can do with lyrium.”

“Yes, it is,” Cullen said, eyes dropping to the ring sparkling on her left finger.

Naomi pulled back, then looked to him with a smile. “Take a look.”

Cullen took her place, leaning over to bring his eye to the microscope, approaching the small speck of light shining through the device. He blinked, steadied his hands on the desk, and peered into the light.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see, what he was looking at. But he adjusted, brought his eye a little closer, noticing as he did the specks of blue in the light, coming into focus as small, blue blogs, misshapen circles with tiny, darker spots toward their centers. It was something, more than he had expected… not that he really knew what he had expected.

“Do you see them?” Naomi whispered, voice filled with anticipation.

“Yes…” Cullen said cautiously, pulling away to look at Naomi. “Though I’m not entirely sure what they are supposed to be.”

“They’re skin cells!” Naomi said. “Each of those blue circles is a single cell, and together, they form layers to create our skin.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Cullen said.

Naomi nodded, then pulled out a blank piece of paper and a quill. “Cells are small, the basic… unit that structures an animal. There is a… membraan… a sort of soft wall surrounding each cell. And inside are all of the tiny structures that do everything we need to live. They take the food we eat and break it into energy, then use that energy to… make… eiwitten… um the… the moleculen that… that do everything in our bodies…” She trailed off, then shook her head. “Sorry, this is… much more difficult to explain than I thought it would be…”

“That’s all right, Naomi…”

“Think of each cell like a brick,” she continued, determined to make him understand. She drew a series of circles together. “Alone, they can’t do much, but stacked together, they can form rooms and walls and hallways. Eventually, together, they form something like Skyhold. Big and complex and stronger because all of the bricks are arranged together. Bodies are the same. We are made up of a bunch of tiny bricks, these cells, that come together to form our skin, and our bones, and our organs… all working together to make a human. Or an elf, or a tree, or a… a fish…”

Cullen smiled, watching her continue to draw, nothing more than circles on circles on circles. He still knew there was much he didn’t understand, but her drawing, her description… it was enough to give him a better picture of what she meant. He looked back into the microscope, at those tiny skin cells, and nodded. He could imagine those circles collected together, overlapping one another, coming together to form a sheet, to form skin…

And these circles had been invisible to his eyes. They were still small in the view of this microscope, not much larger than the larger freckles that covered Naomi’s face. If she was right, and Cullen was inclined to believe her, their bodies were entirely made up of these tiny cells, something that had been entirely hidden, impossible to know until Naomi and her idea to make this microscope…

“This is amazing,” he said. Naomi beamed, then rubbed a hand behind her neck.

“You think so?” she asked. “I’ve been… a little unsure. I mean… it’s not like I can support myself with this sort of work. I wasn’t even sure back home if I would be able to find a job in science like I wanted. And here… I don’t know how I will spread anything I learn to others. I _know_ it could be helpful, but I just don’t know how I’ll be able to make it work or worthwhile…”

“It’s amazing,” Cullen repeated. “To have been brought here, and to make this… to show these… cells…” Cullen looked at his hands. His entire body, consisting of those tiny blobs…

And Naomi had looked so _happy_ when she was talking to him about these cells, when showing him the microscope. This was what she enjoyed, what she loved, what she had wanted to do with her life. No, he couldn’t see how she could possibly make a living looking at cells in Thedas, but if it made her happy…

“I’m going to look at lyrium,” Naomi said quietly. “I… I believe it may be alive, and now… I can maybe find evidence that it is…”

Cullen frowned. “Lyrium?”

Naomi nodded and crossed her arms. “I know you may not like it, but I think it’s important to know more about it. It obviously hurts you, and other Templars. It’s not like any drug I’ve heard of, and I think… I think it’s because it’s alive. And if I want to help anyone, I need to know.” She picked up her notebook, flipping through the pages. “I have an outline of experiments. It will take time, but I… I’m excited to do this, and find a way to help you… hopefully…”

“I don’t mind.”

Naomi paused, looking up at him, her eyes wide. “Really?"

“Of course not,” he told her.

Naomi smiled, clutching the book to her chest. “I’ll be careful,” she said. “I know lyrium can be harmful if handled incorrectly. I was going to ask Dagna, since she’s worked with it so much…”

Cullen had momentarily forgotten those considerations, but though he did feel a small pang of worry thinking of the possible dangers Naomi could face working with lyrium, he was not about to change his mind so quickly. And Naomi had already identified the potential danger, and a way to address it. “I trust you will be careful,” he told her. “And you… don’t need my permission to do… anything really.”

Naomi put the book down, then reached for his hand. “I know, but… I want you to know what I’m doing, and to… be all right with it. I don’t’ want to fight over this.”

Cullen squeezed her hand. “I’ll support you, in any way I can,” he told her. “And this makes you happy… that is what I want, more than anything.”

Her smile was wide and perfect and beautiful, and he hoped she would never think he wouldn’t support her again.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “And I… I think it will.” She leaned down and blew out the candle. “We should go get something to eat,” she continued, pulling him toward the stairs.

“Wait,” Cullen said, pulling her to a stop. “There was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

Suddenly nervous, Cullen cleared his throat. “After this morning, I realized that our sleeping arrangements are… not ideal.”

“Oh Cullen… it’s really fine. I’ve known it’s been getting colder for days and should have prepared.”

“That’s just it,” Cullen insisted. “You shouldn’t have to worry about the cold.”

“Ok… do you… want to stay in my room more?”

That would have been a solution, Cullen realized, but he had already talked to Josephine about new quarters, and Naomi’s room was far too small to comfortably house them both for any length of time. “No, I… spoke with Josephine, and there are rooms we… we could share in the main keep…”

Naomi’s mouth dropped open and Cullen worried for a small moment that he had made a mistake, that perhaps Naomi would not the same as him.

But then she smiled, small, shy. “You want to… share the same rooms?”

“Yes,” Cullen said. “I would like that very much. And I believe it would solve many of our problems, from the hole in the ceiling, to you forgetting to bring changes of clothing…”

Naomi reached to cup his jaw, smiling when he trailed off his explanation. “All right,” she said. “I would like that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Membraan – membrane  
> Eiwitten – proteins  
> Moleculen - molecules


	98. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few NSFWish bits scattered throughout.

Cullen leaned back and rubbed his eyes, clearing away the fatigue that had accumulated over the last several hours. He had finally finished the orders for the day that would send troops across Thedas to relieve soldiers in the Western Approach, clear the red lyrium from Emprise du Lion and man the fortress, and send a small unit to the Arbor wilds to keep an eye on the red Templars that had been sighted there.

He gathered the orders into a pile and stood, stretching the tension from his neck before moving toward the door and Skyhold’s main keep in search of a messenger to bring the papers to the rookery to be dispatched. He crossed the bridge, squinting slightly as the bright light of the midday sun aggravated the slight headache pounding behind his eyes. Withdrawal had been persisting for days, ever since he had kissed Naomi while lyrium coated her lips, but the symptoms had grown mild, and he largely ignored them. He didn’t even bother telling Naomi most of the time, knowing she would worry, or worse yet, blame herself.

He entered the rotunda, passing through the second door into the dim interior, pausing toward the center of the room to inspect the fresh fresco gracing the wall. The likeness of Empress Celene was prominently displayed, but Nassella was not forgotten, or the others that had been left in power back in Orlais, and Cullen decided he rather liked the new addition, even if it depicted a place and event he had hated.

“Good afternoon, Commander,” a voice said softly from behind, and Cullen turned to see Solas rising from his seat on a couch by the door. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Cullen shook his head, turning away from the fresco. “I was just admiring your painting,” he told the elf. “It’s come along since I saw it yesterday.”

Solas nodded, clasping his hands behind his back while he studied his work. “Inspiration struck last night, and I stayed up through the night to finish it.”

“Ah, Naomi mentioned you were not in the Fade.”

“I hope she was not disappointed with my absence,” Solas said. “I’m afraid I did not have the time to inform her I would be gone.”

Cullen shook his head. “If she was, she made no indication to me. If anything, she seemed relieved to have had a night to… experiment on her own, I believe is how she put it. With what, I could not say.”

Solas’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “I’m sure I will discover what she was working on tonight when we spar. She has proved to be quite adept at finding creative ways to use the Fade against me.”

And Cullen felt, ridiculous as it was, a stab of jealousy. Not because he felt in any way that Solas would attempt to approach Naomi in a romantic or sexual way, or that Naomi would want to do the same. No, he was jealous because there was part of Naomi’s life, her dreams, that he would never experience, but Solas could. It was something Cullen had never thought to want, but there were entire spans of time while Naomi slept that were blocked to him entirely, where she lived and experienced a realm he had spent most of his life fearing, but was something she claimed at times to love. Instead it was Solas who was there with her, teaching and sparring with her, even protecting her.

“How is her training progressing? Will she be able to keep herself safe?” Because in the end, that was most important.

“She has been able to protect herself reasonably well for some time,” Solas said. “I imagine that will only have improved. She has been quite focused.”

“That’s good,” Cullen said. “I’m… grateful that you are helping her.” It had been Solas who saved her, after she had fallen from Liberty’s back and found herself facing a demon she had been unprepared to handle. And now he was helping so she would not find herself in such a position again.

“There is no need to thank me,” Solas said. “It has been enjoyable to meet another Dreamer, even one who is not a mage. I do not wish to see her destroyed because of what she is,” he added, a slight frost in his tone.

There was that jealousy again, but Cullen pushed it away. He did not wish to be a Dreamer… if anything, he wished Naomi was not.

But he was more than jealous. That last statement of Solas’s bothered Cullen.

_Destroyed because of what she is._

It had been Cullen’s first thought on learning how Naomi dreamed, that a mage who had displayed such an ability would have been made Tranquil. It had never been an issue while he was at the Circle, though mages were made Tranquil for far less, but knowing Solas, knowing Naomi… it pained Cullen to think that at one time, he would not have blinked at such a prospect, would have let fear of the unknown destroy Naomi and everything she was.

Solas had apparently not forgotten his outburst back in Orlais. But Cullen did not need reminding.

“Neither do I,” Cullen said pointedly, finally. He would not fail her again, not with this.

No messengers moved through the rotunda while they were speaking, so Cullen made the journey to the rookery himself, placing the letters in the hands of one of Leliana’s people. He had nearly escaped when Leliana called to him from her small shrine nestled into the tower’s walls. He paused, waiting for her to walk toward him so they could speak more quietly.

“It is good to see you out of your tower, Commander,” Leliana said.

Cullen cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I needed these orders sent.”

“Of course,” Leliana purred. “Though I imagine we will be seeing more of you within the keep in the future.”

“More…?”

“Are you not moving today?” Leliana asked. “I seem to recall seeing Krem and Rocky bullying one of Naomi’s trunks up the stairs this morning, along with the rest of the Chargers.”

Right. The move. Naomi had somehow recruited the Chargers to help move her things after a night in the tavern with Dagna. She had returned to the loft, somewhat drunk, with the news that Krem had offered the services of the mercenary company to the effort. Cullen had not objected, though he considered he should find something else for the mercenaries to do, if they had been reduced to moving trunks of clothing up flights of stairs.

_Perhaps I should have sent them to the Arbor Wilds to track the red Templars. I’ll suggest it to Krem when I see him next…_

But that could wait. Actually, anything he had left to do could wait for another day. Cullen had no reason to return to his own tower, as his things had been moved that day as well.

He could return to his new quarters. To the quarters he would now share with Naomi.

She was probably there already, unpacking as he spoke here with Leliana. He hadn’t even seen the rooms since the furniture had been replaced.

“Yes, I imagine I will be here more,” he said softly. Every night he would return to the keep instead of climbing into his loft, and the thought of being so far away from his work, for a moment, worried him.

But he had been leaving his desk to sleep now for months. This would really be no different. A few more steps away, yes, but he would be with Naomi, in a space that was a far more suitable place for her to live. A few extra flights of stairs were worth that, as worth being with her.

“I will let you go, then,” Leliana said with a smirk. “You will likely want some time with Naomi to settle in.”

Cullen returned to the rotunda, pausing briefly once more, his eyes flicking toward the door that would take him to his office. But he turned away and entered the great hall instead, then crossed through the door that would lead him to the upper levels of the keep.

It was more flights than he had remembered, to get to the second highest floor of the tower. And he still took a moment before entering the apartment to collect his thoughts.

Once he entered these rooms, things would never be the same. He and Naomi would live together… and if everything went well, went as Cullen hoped… they would never live apart again.

He liked that thought, very much. And the fact that Naomi had agreed to live with him, must mean that she… wanted the same.

At least, that is what Cullen hoped, as he pushed on the door and entered the apartments beyond. He surveyed the room as he gently closed the door behind him, taking in the furnishings Josephine had arranged for the space. He could only see the sitting room that could serve as a living and work space, but Cullen’s first impression was that the furniture and decorations were far too rich, too extravagant for any rooms he would call his own. At least, he thought as he moved deeper into the room, it was styled after Ferelden, with furs and rich, earthy fabrics and tones, and not the dainty, overly floral and gilded style of Orlais.

There were two separate bedrooms adjoining the main room. It was still larger than they needed, but Josephine had insisted they take these particular quarters, so Cullen shook his head at the extravagance and moved toward the larger of the two bedrooms, where he hoped he would find Naomi.

The bedroom was just as overly decorated as the rest, though still thankfully Ferelden. Cullen’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large, four-poster bed, and he flushed, his mind immediately imagining what he and Naomi could do on such a piece of furniture. And there would be no interruptions, no possibility that anyone would overhear them. It hadn’t exactly stopped them when they used his loft, but the idea that their interactions could now be securely private had Cullen’s body flushing with heat.

There were windows in the room, large ones, leading on one end to a balcony that overlooked the fortress and the mountains beyond. It was one reason they had chosen this bedroom, Naomi suggesting when they first toured the place that it might help him with the transition, to have a room with such open spaces. Cullen had readily agreed, but by the way he had caught her smiling and glancing toward those windows, he knew she would have chosen this room over the other regardless of his own feelings.

His first glance around the room revealed nothing, and it wasn’t until he called her name that Cullen discovered where Naomi had been hiding, sitting at the foot of the bed, hidden behind the footboard as she clutched a stack of papers to her lap.

She had been crying, Cullen realized immediately, her eyes red and moist, the blue and green of her irises standing out even more starkly than usual. She wiped at her cheek as he knelt by her side, attempting to smile.

“Hey,” she whispered, laying the papers she had been holding to the side. “I didn’t expect you until after dinner.”

Cullen sat by her side, reaching for her hand. “I decided I could leave my work for one evening.”

Naomi nodded, then glanced toward the room at large. “So what do you think? I definitely prefer this furniture over what was left from the previous occupants…”

Cullen reached to wipe another stray tear from her cheek, ignoring her question. “What’s the matter Naomi?” he whispered. “What can I do?”

Naomi sighed, squeezing his hand. “Nothing,” she said. “I just… found these while looking for a dress,” she said, picking up her papers once more. “I drew them months ago and kind of forgot I had them…” She looked at the top sheet a moment longer, then handed them to Cullen.

They were drawings. Of people. And based on the likeness of the woman on the first page, they were her family.

“I haven’t looked at their faces in a long time,” Naomi whispered, sniffing. “It caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Cullen nodded, studying the woman on the page in front of him. The drawing was good, and Cullen remembered Naomi had mentioned, months ago, that she liked to draw. He could clearly see Naomi’s likeness in the features of the older woman on the page, though the woman, Naomi’s mother Aleida, was sterner, in a way, the set of her brows and mouth slightly harsher than Naomi’s. Still, it was clear where Naomi had received most of her appearance, and when Cullen turned the page to see a drawing of her father, he concluded that James largely resembled their mother as well.

Hans had a long face, a receding hairline, a weaker chin than James, and Naomi had given him a slightly lopsided smirk. She leaned against his arm and sighed. “I wish I had a way to color them. My dad had bright blue eyes…”

“Like yours?”

“Yes,” Naomi said softly. “That’s why… why I was glad some of the blue returned after Dagna made the ring. It’s really the only feature I got from him… That and my height.”

But Cullen wasn’t so sure. Yes, Naomi looked more like her mother, but she resembled her father in some ways. Hans’ face was kind, even in the drawing, and Cullen decided that Naomi’s features had been softened by the contribution of her father.

Next was her youngest brother, David, the boy who had come to Thedas but died before he could wake. Cullen only vaguely remembered the skinny blonde boy from Haven, but he definitely remembered the way Naomi had broken when he died.

The next drawing was of another, younger woman. Abigail, Naomi’s sister, Cullen knew. He studied her portrait, seeing immediately the resemblance between the sisters, the similar noses, set of the eyes…

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Naomi asked, her arm now linked with his.

“Yes,” Cullen agreed. Abigail had been very beautiful, but that was no surprise to Cullen, considering Naomi was her sister. “Like you.”

Naomi snorted. “Abigail was always prettier.” Cullen couldn’t agree, though he could see that perhaps Abigail was more conventionally attractive. “I tried my best,” Naomi said, reaching for one of the discarded portraits. “But by the time I started… I’m afraid I started to forget some of the details, and… I don’t know. I’m not even sure how accurate they are anymore.”

Cullen turned to the last page, his heart breaking a little to see James, carefully sketched in charcoal. A portrait of the brother she still had, just in case he didn’t come back.

“I think they are nice,” Cullen said, carefully stacking the papers once more. “I… have no such reminders of my own parents.”

“What did they look like?”

Cullen frowned, trying to picture the face of his parents, seeing them for the last time when he was just a boy… “I look like my father, I suppose,” he finally said. “His hair was darker than mine though. My mother had blue eyes and blonde curly hair.” He looked down at Naomi’s drawings, wondering how much he misremembered about his own family, after so much time.

“Do you have fond memories of them?”

Cullen nodded. “Yes. They were good parents, good people. I… perhaps did not appreciate their kindness as a child, but they supported my dreams of becoming a Templar, and arranged for me to be trained. I am sorry I was unable to see them again before they died.” They had been lost during the Blight, like so many others. But his siblings had survived, were still near Honnleath. Cullen was closer to them than he had been in years.

“James has been struggling with that,” Naomi said softly. “He was fighting with our parents that day we were hiking. I mean… he was always fighting with them, and it bothers him, knowing he can never apologize.”

“Does he not believe as you, that he will see them again after death?” It wasn’t exactly the same as being by the Maker’s side, but Naomi’s beliefs were similar enough to his own that Cullen had chosen to believe they were talking about the same things.

“I’m not sure anymore,” Naomi answered. “I think… there’s a lot of things that confuse him.”

Cullen studied those drawings again. Her family, gone in a single instant. He had lost much, but Cullen knew he could never truly understand the shock and sorrow she had felt in those first few days, weeks, months. “And you?” he asked, handing her the drawings. “Have fond memories, that is?”

Naomi nodded, taking the papers and carefully laying them aside. “Yes,” she said quietly. “My mother was sometimes a little overbearing, but I never doubted that she loved us, even if she didn’t always say it…” She sniffed, wiping at her eyes again. “And my father was… always joking, and so supportive… they both were…” She took a deep breath. “I miss that support. Knowing that no matter what happened, I would have my family there to help me…”

“You have not lost that entirely,” Cullen said. “James is still here.” He squeezed her hand. “As am I.”

“I know,” Naomi said, her lips turning up in a smile that immediately disappeared. “But it’s not the same. It will never be what it was… or what I had imagined for the future…”

A family of her own. Children. But those things did not need to be lost.

“I know you want a family,” Cullen said softly. “You said as much a few nights ago.”

Naomi winced. “I… shouldn’t have said that. I know it’s something I can’t have.”

So she had insisted, time and time again. “You cannot be sure,” Cullen pushed. “You will not know until we… until you… try…” Maker, was he talking about children? It was too soon for that…

Naomi removed her hand from his, and began turning the enchanted ring around her finger, staring at her hands. “I do know Cullen,” she whispered. “I will not have children of my own.” But then she sighed. “But… you’re right. I could still have a family.” She looked back then, eyes bright. “I’ve… always liked the idea of adopting. There’s more to having children than being related. There’s… passing on your beliefs, and your ideals… raising people to be good and to contribute to the world in a positive way.” She looked away. “That’s still possible.”

Adoption. Cullen hadn’t really considered that option, had hardly considered children until he met Naomi. But she was right. If she could have no children of her own… there were thousands left orphaned across Thedas. She could still have a family. _They_ could have a family.

Cullen nodded. “Yes, that is possible,” he said.

Naomi let out a long breath, then rose to her knees, placing the drawings back into the trunk she had been rummaging through. “Well, we don’t really need to talk about that right now…” she dismissed.

But Cullen didn’t want to let it go, now that they were once more talking about it, in their new home. “You know I want that with you,” he told her quietly, watching her face, at the way she tried to keep her expression neutral. “Someday… I would have a family with you, however that would look.”

Naomi swallowed and kept her eyes cast down into the trunk. “I know,” she whispered, voice thick. “And I… want that too…” She sniffed again, rubbing at her face. “But I don’t… don’t want to think about that right now,” she said, a little louder as her emotions took over. “I don’t want to… to make plans. I can’t assume that… that anything like that will happen, so I’d rather not… get my hopes up…” She sighed in frustration, squeezing her eyes shut. “Especially with more battles approaching, and what you do…” She took several deep breaths in a row. “I just would rather not talk about those things right now,” she murmured.

She was still terrified, Cullen realized as he rose to his own knees so he could reach to touch her arm, to draw her against his chest. Terrified that she would lose him, or her brother, or her friends, and be left to start over again. Cullen was scared too, and knew there was very little he could promise her in terms of a future. It was why he had largely avoided such discussions in the first place, and he regretted that he had pushed this particular conversation so far. “All right,” he told Naomi, holding her while she controlled her spiraling emotions. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, and after a few moments, pulled away from his body with a sigh, her eyes no longer bright with tears. “So, about the place,” she said, glancing around the rooms again. “What do you think?”

She was trying to distract herself, and while Cullen wished there was a way he could actually make her feel better, make her less afraid, he had promised to move on. “They are nice,” he said, sitting back against the bedframe. “A little... more than I had anticipated, but they are warm, have a roof… and we have more privacy…”

Naomi grinned, moving back to the trunk, where she proceeded to pull out a few dresses. “Yeah, I didn’t expect Josephine to get such fancy furniture, but I suppose you are the commander after all.”

Cullen snorted. “That does not mean I should have quarters meant for a nobleman.”

Naomi shrugged. “Well, I certainly think you deserve them. Wanting or needing them is another matter, and I agree… it’s a bit much,” she said, sitting back on her feet, studying the bed. “I certainly never imagined or wanted something q _uite_ like this… But the privacy _is_ nice.”

Cullen grinned, thinking again about what their new-found privacy could mean. They would be far less restricted to a bed, he realized, remembering their interruption in his office a few days before. But in these quarters, there were desks, and chairs, and furs in front of fires… Cullen shifted, his groin growing tight and hot. They even had their own private water closet, with a rather large tub…

Cullen realized he was staring at Naomi’s chest when she held a dress up against her body, a frown crossing her face as she stared at the neckline. “Why do you need a dress?” Cullen asked, attempting to divert his mind from the image of her naked and straddling his lap, hair damp and clinging to wet skin, steaming water lapping at the dip of her waist while she ground against his cock…

“Um, Josephine said that Vivienne wants to have tea with me tomorrow. I think Josephine and Leliana will be there too…”

Cullen frowned. “Tea?”

Naomi nodded, dropping the dress to her lap. “I’m not sure why… I didn’t think she really cared much about me. I mean, I’m grateful for how she helped me with the amulet and everything, but I don’t know… I’ve hardly talked to her and I don’t know why she suddenly wants to… have tea.”

Cullen had a suspicion, though he hoped he was wrong. He had tried to keep Naomi from realizing that some, such as Vivienne, believed he would be better served matched with another woman, and now he feared Naomi would be ambushed in order to deter her from continuing their relationship. He didn’t think she would change her mind, but he didn’t want her to be made to feel less because she was not noble. “Vivienne has… expressed her displeasure in our relationship before,” he said.

Naomi frowned. “Why?”

Cullen’s mouth felt sour. “I am the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” he said. “She seems to believe that means I should be used to secure political alliances.” He grimaced. “And while Leliana and Josephine have never seriously suggested I marry for political gain, they have certainly made it clear it could be done.”

Naomi’s lips had parted slightly, and then she shook her head. “Well that’s bullshit,” she muttered. “You can be with whoever you want. They certainly can’t make you marry someone you don’t want to.”

Cullen felt himself grin, his love for her growing just a little more, chest warming at the disgust she clearly held for the common practices of marriage among the elite of Thedas. “I do not think they truly believe that either,” Cullen said, not wanting Naomi to think less of Josephine or Leliana. “They simply see it as an opportunity they can no longer utilize. Not that I would have agreed to a marriage of alliance even if I had not met you,” he added.

Naomi nodded, grinning at him. But she was soon frowning again. “You think this is really what Vivienne wants to meet about? I was already nervous about this tea…”

Cullen shrugged. “I do not know,” he said. “I just… wanted you to be aware, in case it did come up.”

Naomi sighed, holding up another dress, frowning once more at the neckline. “Thanks. Hopefully it’s about something else…” She lowered the dress. “I guess Vivienne did just find out where I’m from. Maybe she’s curious about that.”

“Perhaps,” Cullen said, though he did not put it past the shrewd mage to make such a meeting about more than one thing. Naomi held up her third dress, then lowered it with a frustrated sigh. “What’s wrong with that one?” Cullen asked. “I like the blue.”

Naomi stared down at the gown. “It doesn’t cover the amulet. I feel like I should wear something nice, but nothing covers this thing,” she said, bringing her hand to where the amulet sat beneath her tunic.

“It is not as bad as you think,” Cullen told her, attempting once again to assuage her insecurities about the amulet and scars centered on her chest. “I assure you.”

“It’s still strange,” Naomi said, tossing the dresses over the lip of the chest, sliding down until she was sitting on her backside instead of her legs. “I don’t want people staring or asking questions.”

“Leliana, Josephine, and Vivienne have already seen it,” Cullen reminded her.

Naomi bit at her lip, still staring at her dresses. “I know… but I still have to get there through everyone…”

Cullen knew it would take longer than the few weeks it had been since the amulet became part of her body for Naomi to fully accept and embrace her new appearance. And her discomfort was largely based in the desire to avoid unwanted attention or questions. But here, in the privacy of their own bedroom, he would make sure she always felt beautiful, and that she didn’t need to hide.

So Cullen rose to his knees and crawled toward Naomi, watching her eyes and the way her pupils started to dilate as he straddled her legs. He smirked, sat back on his knees, then removed his gloves, followed by his grieves, pauldrons, cuirass, breastplate… entirely silent, eyes locked on Naomi and the way her skin had started to flush, her lips had parted, and her breaths had started to come faster. He was hard by the time he finished, heat and pressure building in his core, and when he reached for Naomi’s tunic she rolled her shoulders back, displaying her breasts that much more prominently, his cock throbbed in response.

“If anyone gives you a hard time about the amulet,” he said, voice growing husky as he unfastened her tunic, revealing the line of her cleavage. “I’ll send them to the Western Approach.”

Naomi licked her lips, eyes dropping down, to where his erection was straining against his breeches. “That seems a little harsh,” she whispered, eyes flicking back up to his eyes. But he could see her trying to hide a grin. “I’m not sure I deserve such special treatment.”

Cullen shook his head, easing her tunic open, fingers brushing against her waist, pleased to see her starting to fill back out after her dramatic loss of weight. He trailed one hand up, over the curve of her breasts, then gently against the scars and metal tangled in her chest. “Nothing would be too harsh for making you feel anything less than beautiful,” he told her. Then he leaned down, kissing the amulet, his hand trailing down to cup her breast. “And you certainly deserve special treatment,” he growled, giving her a firm squeeze.

She drew in a breath, more pain than pleasure, and Cullen immediately looked up into her eyes. She smiled through her grimace. “Sorry, they’re a little sore. I think I’m going to start bleading in the next couple of days.”

Cullen nodded, and dropped his hand back to grip her waist. “That’s all right,” he said, easing her back until she was lying on the floor and he hovered above her. “There are certainly other parts of your body I enjoy touching.” He ran his hand down the swell of her hip and beneath her body to grip her ass to demonstrate.

She laughed, and finally reached to touch him back, linking her arms behind his neck. “So… you want to do this here, or should we break in the new bed?”

Cullen propped himself on his elbows and glanced toward the bed, with its feather mattress and rich blankets, the furs draped along the foot and the velvet curtains that could be pulled securely around the posts. He looked back at Naomi, her bright brown hair spread around her head in a halo, her eyes crinkled as she smiled up at him. He lowered himself down, rolling his hips against hers. She moaned softly. “I don’t see why we can’t do both,” he murmured, craning to take her lips with his. Naomi laughed, pulling him securely against her body, and kissed him back.

 

* * *

 

Naomi paused before reaching for the door, trying to still the racing of her heart. She had made it down the stairs without running into a single person, but she knew, once she crossed through that door, that everyone would be able to see her.

She reached to stroke the amulet. It had been a mistake, to wear the dress with nothing to cover her chest. People would stare, would look at her… She should have done as Cullen suggested and just worn a tunic and breeches. But she had convinced herself it would be better to wear the gown, and even more time convincing herself that she could handle the exposure…

But that had been a mistake, and Naomi took a step away from the door. She had time, to run back upstairs and change, to put on clothes that would hide her disfigurement. Today didn’t have to be the day to display it…

The door swung open and Naomi jumped, yelped a little. A dark-haired woman with pale skin slipped through, her golden eyes meeting Naomi’s. Naomi found herself glancing down, as the woman was wearing very little clothing, not much more than a breastband and strips of draping fabric covering her torso.

“I apologize,” the woman said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Naomi lowered her hand where it was still clutched over her chest. “That’s all right. I jump easily.”

“Yes, I see,” the woman said, the pitch of her voice somewhat low for a woman. Her eyes dropped down to Naomi’s chest, to the amulet, and Naomi felt herself flush. “You were in Halamshiral, at the empress’s masquerade, were you not?” the woman asked, eyes flicking back up.

“Yes, I was there,” Naomi said, trying to place the woman. Surely she would remember such a striking face if she had also been at the ball. But this other woman had likely been wearing a mask, and there was much of the event Naomi had paid little attention to. “I’m Naomi,” she added, smiling.

“I am Morrigan,” the other woman said, not smiling back, and something clicked in Naomi’s mind. This was the woman Cullen had complained about a few days prior, the mage who had been sent as a liaison between the Inquisition and Orlais.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Naomi said, wishing she could escape. She hated small-talk with people she didn’t know well, and this conversation with Morrigan was just reminding her of another reason she was not exactly looking forward to this tea. And that feeling only grew when Morrigan’s eyes glanced back down at the metal in her chest. Naomi could almost feel the judgement rolling off the other woman, the shrewd analysis likely running through her mind. It reminded her of Vivienne, and one more thing Naomi was not looking forward to.

And then Naomi felt her skin shiver, a ripple of energy crawl across her body. She frowned and recoiled from Morrigan, crossing her arms as she did. The sensation disappeared, and Morrigan met Naomi’s eyes.

“You are not a mage,” Morrigan said.

Naomi clutched herself closer. “No.”

“And yet magic courses through your body,” Morrigan continued. “’Tis most curious.”

Naomi shrugged, wishing once more that she had covered the amulet. It was already leading to questions she didn’t want to answer. “I guess,” Naomi said. Morrigan’s eyes dropped once more.

“May I ask how you came to have an enchanted amulet fused to your body, and the Fade in your eyes?”

This Morrigan was unlike any other mage Naomi had met, deducing so quickly so much about her. But Naomi just shrugged again, and said, “It was an accident.” She didn’t know how to say anything else, not without revealing far more about her origins than she wanted to a stranger.

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed. “I see,” she said. Then she stepped aside, toward the stairs, leaving the way through the door clear for Naomi. “I will keep you no longer,” Morrigan said. “I’m sure we will meet again.”

“I imagine we will,” Naomi said, escaping through the door before Morrigan thought to ask any more questions, discarding her plan to return to her room to change. She was already late to meet the others, and she didn’t want to add to her tardiness. Or follow Morrigan up the stairs.

So Naomi moved quickly through the great hall, keeping her eyes cast toward the ground so she would never make eye contact, trying to push away the discomfort from her encounter with Morrigan. She crossed through the door that led her to the stairs that would take her to the landing where Vivienne often entertained guests, and paused, taking a deep breath.

_It will be fine. I have no reason to be nervous… I’ve talked to all these women before…_

Naomi sighed. She didn’t feel any better, but she could not turn back now. It was just tea, and she would come through, no matter what happened.

So she squared her shoulders and ascended the stairs, lifting her skirts with her hands so she could take them two at a time. She emerged on the balcony overlooking the main floor of the great hall, and walked toward where she could see Vivienne, Josephine, and Leliana already gathered, a serving girl pouring tea into cups setting on a table bathed in sunlight.

“There you are!” Josephine called as Naomi approached the table, an empty seat between Leliana and Vivienne. “I was beginning to think I had given you the wrong time.” Her eyes dropped briefly down to Naomi’s chest, but she quickly looked away.

“Sorry,” Naomi said, carefully lowering herself into her chair, trying not to think about the amulet. “I ran into Morrigan on the way here.”

“That ill-bred apostate?” Vivienne scoffed, pouring cream into her tea. “Why our dear Empress tolerated that woman’s presence at court is one of the mysteries of our age.”

Naomi stared at Vivienne as tea was poured into her own cup by the serving girl, entirely at a loss of how to respond to the venom in Vivienne’s voice. Naomi glanced toward Josephine next, who gave her a small smile.

“Regardless of her training Madame Vivienne, Morrigan has provided useful information to our cause,” Josephine said, attempting to diffuse the tension.

‘It’s outrageous that she has been forced on the Inquisition,” Vivienne insisted.

“Did you speak with her long?” Josephine asked, ignoring Vivienne’s statement and directing the conversation back to Naomi.

Naomi shook her head, looking down at her cup of tea. Steam curled from its surface, and she reached to add a lump of sugar to the liquid, reminded that she still needed to take her contraceptive brew yet that day. “Just for a few moments. We were just passing by the stairs,” she said, gently stirring her drink.

“And did she have anything interesting to say?” Leliana asked next.

Naomi put down her spoon. “Umm… she realized right away that I’m fade-touched. Or at least she saw that I’m not… normal.”

“She is a shrewd mage,” Leliana continued. “I would be surprised if she had not realized something was different about you.”

Vivienne sniffed. “It is not a matter of her being shrewd. Ever since this amulet became a part of Naomi, her nature in turn has become more obvious.”

Naomi reached to touch her chest before she could stop herself. “Really?” she asked.

Vivienne nodded. “Yes, my dear. The Fade nearly simmers beneath your skin.”

Naomi frowned, then took a sip of her tea, trying to collect her thoughts. So it didn’t even matter if she covered the amulet. Mages would still think something was wrong with her, and she could only imagine Templars could feel the same. She couldn’t remember anyone looking at her differently, even with the amulet covered, but she _had_ been avoiding people for days now.

“Come now, Madame Vivienne,” Leliana scolded. “We did not gather here to discuss Morrigan, or Naomi’s abilities.”

“Indeed,” Vivienne said, turning her dark eyes toward Naomi. “Are you and the Commander enjoying your new quarters?” She took a sip of her tea, studying Naomi over the rim of the cup.

Naomi nodded, hoping this wasn’t Vivienne’s way of bringing up the subject of her relationship in order to disparage it. “Yes. At least for the one night we’ve been there, they’ve been great.” She turned to Josephine. “Thank you again for arranging the move. Everything is beautiful.” Josephine beamed.

“You certainly seem to find them enjoyable,” Leliana said with a grin. “You and Cullen disappeared midday and didn’t emerge until this morning.”

Naomi blushed. After having sex on the floor, they’d moved to the bed, and then spent some time unpacking and making adjustments to the furniture arrangements. They _had_ intended to come down for dinner, but Josephine had had a tray sent up to them, so there had been no need. They had instead watched the sunset from the balcony while they ate, huddling together under a fur until the stars came out. They had eventually fallen into kissing, then touching, and then more love making on the now thoroughly broken in bed…

“We had to unpack, and we moved the furniture around a little bit,” Naomi said. “And Josephine was kind enough to send us food. It was… nice, to spend some time alone in such a warm place.” They certainly didn’t need to know how many times she and Cullen had had sex… Naomi even wondered if it wasn’t excessive. Though it never felt that way, not in the moment.

“Well I think it’s quite time you two had some time to yourselves, given everything you have been through recently,” Josephine said, reaching for a small cake, her eyes once more falling to Naomi’s chest.

Naomi swallowed, and successfully resisted the urge to touch the amulet, still wishing she had chosen to cover it. She reached for a cake instead, a burst of sugar and a hint of something floral hitting her tongue when she took a bite. She had nearly died. She shouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed for taking one night for herself with the man she loved.

“You are truly feeling better?” Leliana asked. “This ring Dagna constructed has kept you well?”

“Yes,” Naomi said. “I’ve finally felt normal for a week straight, and I’m… I’m hopeful it will continue.” She didn’t want to think what it would be like, if the ring stopped working.

“That is good to hear,” Vivienne said. Naomi gave her a small smile, though she quickly looked away, unable to keep the mage’s intense gaze for very long. “You’ll imagine my shock,” Vivienne continued, “When I discovered the true way in which you and your brother acquired your abilities.”

Naomi fiddled with her ring. “Yes, I… imagine it was a shock, to learn of another world existing. I know I was… quite shocked to learn that myself.”

Something in Vivienne’s gaze softened. “Yes, my dear, I imagine it was.” She took another sip of her tea, then looked toward Leliana. “I am simply attempting to understand why I was not told sooner that two of the Inquisitor’s closest friends are not of this world.”

“We thought it best to keep that information as close as possible,” Leliana answered. “The sky had already been torn open, it seemed unwise to let it be known that other worlds existed as well.”

“And there was the matter of what Nassella saw in the future at Redcliffe,” Josephine added.

“What was that?” Vivienne asked.

“Us,” Naomi said, before the others could talk. It was her life, her story to tell, and for some reason… she was bothered to have Josephine and Leliana tell it while she sat next to them. “James and I didn’t die in that future, for obvious reasons. Instead we were captured by Corypheus’s forces and tortured until we… well, _I_ revealed where we from. And Corypheus… was trying to get there, to conquer our world as well.” She looked over at Vivienne. “Nassella wouldn’t let that happen… none of us could. If Corypheus had managed to access the Fade… it was possible he could find our home as well. It was how we arrived in the first place. Or if not him, then someone else might.” Naomi twisted her ring some more. It was still a worry she had, that the wrong ears would hear of her world, that it was closer than anyone might imagine. But little as she knew of Vivienne… she trusted the woman to keep her and James’s secret. Just as they trusted everyone else who had been told. “We couldn’t let that knowledge become known, so we have told very few people. Only those we had grown to know…” She swallowed, unsure if she had adequately explained herself, or if she had offended the other woman…

“Do not think I have taken any personal offense, my dear,” Vivienne interrupted, resting her hands in her lap. “I do believe, however,” she added, glancing back toward Leliana and Josephine, “That I could have assisted in your efforts to keep this revelation concealed. Did you not think I could have been an asset in this?”

“Of course you could have been utilized,” Josephine assured the mage. “Do not think this was a deliberate decision to keep you uninformed. It is simply… not something I often think of anymore. James and Naomi have assimilated quite well into our world, and even I do not always consider that they were born elsewhere.”

“Well, it is in the open now,” Vivienne said with a small sniff, picking up her cup once more. Her eyes turned to Naomi. “And I would like to hear more about this world where you were born.”

Naomi felt herself physically relax, unaware that she had been so tense during those first few moments. But Vivienne seemed willing to move past the deception, her displeasure apparently placed more with the other women at the table than toward Naomi. And Naomi realized, as Vivienne poured herself more tea, that she should not have cared what Vivienne thought in the first place. This was her life, her secret to keep. And to tell when she saw fit.

But now Vivienne knew, and Naomi felt no qualms in sharing what she could of her world, when asked. So she smiled, and nodded. “What would you like to know?”


	99. The Mural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Nassella watched Cullen lean over the war table, removing the metal piece marking red Templar activity in Emprise du Lion. “Based on the reports you found in the quarry, you found and eliminated Corypheus’s main source of red lyrium.”

Nassella leaned against the table, easing her weight from her travel-weary legs. “Really?” she asked. “I knew it was a large source, but the main one? That’s great news.”

Cullen nodded. “There are still indications there is red lyrium coming out of the Hinterlands, but yes, removing this source will go a long way toward crippling his red Templar force.” He reached for the documents she had gathered from the quarry. “In addition, based on these shipments, I believe I have identified where Samson’s base is located,” he added, placing a marker along the coast of the Waking Sea in Orlais. “There is evidence that the red Templars are moving on the Arbor Wilds, but perhaps if we confront Samson here, we can cripple their forces before they find what they seek.”

Nassella sighed. She had just returned from Orlais, and wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of going back so soon… But Cullen was right. They needed to press their advantage while they could. “Very well, I will return to Orlais in the next couple of days.”

“I would like to accompany you, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, meeting her gaze across the table. “I knew Samson in Kirkwall, before he was expelled from the Order. Seeing now what he has become… mining red lyrium from people… it’s monstrous! We have to put an end to him. And look at these orders from the quarry,” he added, agitated, holding up a particularly troubling document. “This armor of his made from red lyrium must give him extraordinary power. We must put an end to him.”

Nassella nodded. She would not deny Cullen a chance to confront the man who had helped twist the Order he had given much of his life to beyond recognition. “Of course you can come Cullen.” She looked back at the map. “We should also begin sending our troops to the Arbor Wilds. If the red Templars are gathering, it may be our opportunity to destroy the bulk of their numbers. And with the support from Orlais,” Nassella said, quickly adding the numbers, “our forces likely match Corypheus’s.”

“I will send the request to Empress Celene today,” Josephine offered. “Celene, Gaspard, and Briala have not forgotten what we did in Orlais, and Morrigan has assured us of Orlais’ support.”

Nassella blinked. “Morrigan has arrived?”

“Some days ago,” Leliana said. “She insists she knows what Corypheus seeks in the Arbor Wilds, but has refused to reveal anything until you returned.”

Nassella sighed, unable to understand why the mage had kept information from her advisors while she was away. “Where is Morrigan now?”

“She has likely heard of your return, and is waiting to confront you the moment you leave this room,” Leliana said.

Nassella sighed again. She had come to the war room to meet with her advisors immediately upon her return. She had thought to have some time once they were finished here, to say hello to Solas, to find Naomi so she could apologize… but it seemed as if those reunions would have to wait. “Very well, I will find her and see what she has to say.”

Leliana was correct, and Nassella found Morrigan waiting for her outside of the war room chamber, the mage leaning against a wall, her torso wrapped in scraps of cloth. “Inquisitor,” she said, pushing away from the wall as Nassella’s advisors filed past. “I have been waiting for you.”

“So I hear,” Nassella said, crossing her arms. “And I hear you know what Corypheus is looking for in the Arbor Wilds.”

Morrigan nodded. “What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous.”

“Which is?” Nassella asked, anxious to finish this meeting so she could tell her advisors, make plans, see her friends…

“’Tis best… if I show you,” Morrigan answered.

Suppressing yet another sigh, Nassella followed Morrigan, confused when she did not lead the back into the war room and the map, but returned to the great hall, and then to the gardens beyond that. Nassella wrapped her arms around her body against the cold, wondering how Morrigan managed to stay warm so exposed to the chilly autumn air, and breathed a sigh of relief when they quickly returned indoors, to a secluded room that had been used for the storage of garden supplies. Nassella closed the door behind her, watching as Morrigan approached the far end of the room, removing a large white sheet from a tall, stately mirror with a flourish.

“This is an eluvian,” Morrigan said as Nassella carefully approached, realizing as she did that the surface of the mirror did not reflect the room quite right, swirls of light distorting the reflected image within its frame. “It is an elven artifact, from a time long before their Empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks.”

Nassella gaped at the mirror, at the eluvian, struck for a moment by the realization that elves, her people, had created it. Nothing anyone had ever made in her clan could compare to the object, with its sleek lines and massive size. It would have taken an entire araval to transport such an artifact, and Nassella could not imagine her clan ever having a use for such a large, unwieldy device.

But as she took another step closer, mesmerized by the patterns swirling across its surface, she was struck by the strange otherworldly beauty of the mirror. She told Morrigan as much.

“I found legends of an elven temple within the Arbor Wilds, untouched. It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The eluvian would be his,” Morrigan told her.

That made Nassella’s body surge with anger, and a little bit of fear. If this eluvian was elven, she could not stand to let it fall into the hands of Corypheus, another artifact, like the orb that had given her the Anchor, to be soiled by his touch, used to further his plans to destroy the world…

And if he wanted it, it must be dangerous, beautiful as it was.

“What does it do?”

Morrigan raised her hands, a flash of light travelling up the surface of the eluvian, leaving the surface now swirling with a soft, blue light. Nassella took a step back, mouth dropping open slightly in surprise. Though she quickly realized she shouldn’t be surprised… of course this artifact was magical…

“A more appropriate question would be ‘where does it lead?’” Morrigan said, stepping toward, and then through the eluvian’s surface, stepping over the frame of the mirror as if it were the threshold of a door.

For one, brief second, Nassella stared at the place where Morrigan had disappeared, heart racing at the thought of following. But she swallowed her fear and followed the mage, skin rippling with a cool, tingling shock as she slipped through the eluvian surface.

In the next instant she was through, and Nassella blinked, focused on the now largely expanded view ahead of her, dim light revealing the vague shapes of strange, rounded trees through misty air, more eluvians scattered around a cobbled courtyard, towering walls revealed at an even larger distance away. Nassella shivered, her skin still jumping slightly from a tang in the air, though the exhaustion from her travels disappeared, leaving her legs fresh, itching to run.

“If this place once had a name, it has long been lost,” Morrigan said quietly, stepping carefully deeper into this place beyond the mirror. “I call it the Crossroads, a place where all eluvians join… wherever they might be. The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This is how they traveled between them.”

Nassella followed Morrigan, tentatively moving her feet forward, her heart still racing. “This is extraordinary,” she whispered reverently, already imagining this Crossroads teaming with elves, her people from centuries long lost. “How could this even exist?” But Nassella immediately thought that foolish. Some of her closest friends were from another world entirely… she possessed on her hand a magical key that could open and close the Veil…

“Who can say? Formed from the fabric of time and space, perhaps.”

Nassella nodded, turning slowly, looking at the still glowing blue surface of the eluvian they had travelled through. She recalled Naomi saying something similar, once, about travelling through space and time to come to Thedas through the Breach…

“As you can see,” Morrigan continued. “Most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable. As for the rest… a few can be opened from this side. But only a few.”

“How… are they opened?” Nassella asked.

“With a key.”

Nassella turned her eyes toward Morrigan, the mage returning to her cryptic way of speaking. “And I suppose you have such a key.”

Morrigan shrugged. “The key can be many things. Each eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Often that is enough.”

Nassella scanned the Crossroads once more. Of course it took magic, power, to access these eluvians. They were created by ancient elves, beings that Solas had reminded her often all possessed the ability to manipulate magic.

“How did you find this place?” Nassella asked next.

“My travels have led me to many strange destinations, Inquisitor. Once, they led me here. It offered sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?”

“Not all the mirrors lead back to our world. The ancients were nothing if not… resourceful.”

Nassella turned back to Morrigan, gaping at the mage and what she had said. _They don’t all lead back to our world, to Thedas…_

But that meant… maybe… Nassella turned back to the empty, broken mirrors. _Could one of these send them back? Could Naomi and James go home…?_

“If they don’t lead back to our world, then…?” Nassella whispered.

“Places between, like this one. I can describe it no better,” Morrigan said quietly.

Places between… so not other worlds. But as Nassella scanned the clearing, she counted nearly two dozen mirrors, and she could only imagine the network expanded into the mist. She couldn’t imagine Morrigan had explored every eluvian and determined where it led. Among these mirrors, somewhere, could be a portal for James and Naomi to return to their home.

And just like when she had considered the possibility of them returning through the Fade by the Anchor on her hand, Nassella balked at the thought. She didn’t want to lose her friends, didn’t want to consider losing two more people she loved forever.

But they deserved to have the choice, and now, Naomi had nearly died. Nassella couldn’t keep this to herself any longer. If they had a chance to return home… they should have the opportunity to take it, to escape this world before they became even more entrenched, before more harm could come to them.

It might already be too late for Naomi, involved with Cullen as she was. But maybe Cullen should have the chance to escape as well…

But Nassella could not imagine Cullen taking such a chance, not while Corypheus still threatened the world. And she should not be distracted by these possibilities either.

“Corypheus wants to come here?” she asked Morrigan. “Why?”

Morrigan nodded. “This… is not the Fade. But it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…”

“And enter the Fade in person,” Nassella finished, immediately understanding the implication. “Like he wanted to do with the Anchor.” He would succeed where he had failed at the Conclave, finally access the power he had been denied.

“He learned of the eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did,” Morrigan said. “He marshals the last of his forces to reach it. You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him, and soon.”

Nassella nodded, meeting Morrigan’s golden gaze. This was it. Their chance to foil yet another of Corypheus’s plans, destroy his remaining army, put an end to the would-be god. “We will.”

 

\----- 

 

Nassella slipped into the undercroft, directed to the crafting area by Varric, saying nearly everyone she sought had made their way below since she had followed Morrigan to the eluvian and the crossroads. She noticed Cullen first, standing with his back turned toward her, the fur draped over his shoulders adding bulk to his already imposing frame. Leliana and Vivienne were standing by his side, and when Nassella slipped closer to the group, she found Josephine leaning over with her eye pressed to the end of a metal tube, Naomi hovering behind her shoulder, James leaning against a desk piled high with books.

Nassella made a point to avoid looking at the tall dark-haired man. His presence travelling back from Orlais had been frustratingly appealing, because she could not act on the desires of her body, always pulling her toward him…

But they had also healed the rift between them, and so she consoled herself with knowing their friendship, at least, was safe.

“Do you see them?” Naomi was asking Josephine. “The little blue circles?”

“Yes?” Josephine said hesitantly. “It seems blurry…”

“Try turning this wheel slightly,” Naomi said, pointing to a dial on the devices side. _The microscope,_ Nassella realized, _it must be the microscope._

Josephine turned the wheel, then gasped. “Oh, I see them! With the darker circles in the middle?”

“Yes! That’s them,” Naomi said, smiling.

Josephine examined whatever she was looking at for another moment. “So we are made up of these cells?” she eventually asked.

“Well, they can look different, depending on the type of tissue they make up. So muscle cells look different than the skin cells, but yes, this is essentially what we look like at a very small level…” Naomi turned away from the microscope and caught Nassella’s eye, her grin breaking into a full smile. “Ness! You’re back!”

James immediately pushed away from the desk, his eyes fixed on Nassella. “Of course she’s back,” he grumbled to Naomi. “ _I’m_ back.”

Naomi let out a frustrated breath, approaching Nassella with arms opening wide. “I just meant that she’s _here_ ,” the woman responded, leaning down to pull Nassella into a hug. Nassella smiled while she squeezed her friend, remembering a time when she had to initiate every embrace.

And then Naomi pulled back, and Nassella’s eyes stared straight at Naomi’s chest, at the amulet peeking through the collar of her tunic. Nassella’s smile fell, her guilt returning like a weight, dragging her heart toward the ground. “Naomi,” she whispered, staring at that amulet and gripping her friend’s arms. “I’m so sorry…” It wasn’t enough. Words would never be enough…

“Hey, Ness,” Naomi said quietly, gently, squeezing her arms back. “It’s ok, _I’m_ ok. Please don’t blame yourself.” She held out her left hand, a silver ring with an emerald gracing one of her fingers. “Dagna made this ring. It takes away the mana so I don’t feel any symptoms. I’ve been fine ever since. Just ask them…” she added, turning toward the others gathered to see the microscope. Nassella looked to Cullen first. The blonde man nodded, his eyes quickly finding Naomi.

“She has been nearly normal for days now Inquisitor,” he said. But there was a wariness to the statement. He was relieved to see her well, but Nassella knew it was only temporary, a small patch on a potentially devastating wound.

Naomi had almost _died._ Everyone was telling her to let it go, that she shouldn’t feel guilty for what she had done. But how could she just ignore her feelings, ignore how she had failed…?

“Please Ness,” Naomi continued. “I forgive you, if that’s what you need to hear… Please don’t feel bad.”

It just made Nassella feel worse. She _knew_ Naomi forgave her, had never doubted that her friend would not blame her for what she had done. It wasn’t a matter of gaining Naomi’s forgiveness.

Nassella needed to forgive _herself_ , and despite Naomi’s insistence that she was fine, hearing the same from Cullen, talking to James, Nassella couldn’t do it. Even seeing Naomi, healthy, she couldn’t forgive herself.

But Naomi didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to worry herself with Nassella’s feelings. And as Nassella glanced at the others gathered, she knew it was not the time for such a conversation anyway.

So Nassella nodded, and attempted a smile, and told Naomi, “I’ll try.” She blinked back a tear. “I’m just so glad you’re all right.” Then she dropped her hands from Naomi’s arms and looked to the microscope sitting on the desk. “So what are you looking at?”

Naomi was successfully distracted, launching into what was likely a demonstration she had given multiple times, excitedly explaining how the microscope worked, showing Nassella the cells of skin Josephine had been looking at, then putting on a new piece of glass with the square, green cells of plants…

It made Nassella feel a little better, watching Naomi work, glad to know her friend had had the energy, the ability, to work on this device with Dagna. Naomi was easily excited, but there was something about watching her work with the microscope that was more natural than anything else she ever did.

“What are your plans for this device, my dear?” Vivienne asked after several moments. “While it is quite interesting to see these cells, but what can you do with them?”

Naomi leaned against the desk and crossed her arms, eyes focusing on a spot across the undercroft. “Well… cells make up all living things, and in many cases, problems occur at the level of cells. Understanding how they work, what they _should_ be doing can help us figure out what happens when things go wrong, and could maybe give us a better idea of how to fix it. That’s how medicine works on Earth, without magic, but I think knowing more would help here, even with magic. I’ve started to think that… providing some sort of description of the cells in our bodies could spark further research into our bodies, in understanding how they really function. That could then be used to improve medicine, to help heal...” She glanced toward Vivienne. “Being able to see cells would be important for that.” Naomi’s eyes unfocused again. “But it’s more than that. Many diseases are caused by organisms made up of single cells. Small creatures that multiply in our bodies and potentially kill them. I’d like to use this to look at these creatures, describe them, and then perhaps diagnosing disease could be faster. And growing bacteria in controlled settings could give the opportunity to test new medicines or treatments…” Then Naomi sighed and pulled a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s what I hope, at least, but… I’ll admit this was not my area of expertise back home. I’ll have to… make up a lot as I go along, and experiment…” Then she grinned, looking back at Vivienne. “But I guess that’s part of the fun.”

“You mean diseases are caused by creatures that look like those cells?” Leliana asked.

“Well… if they are bacterie, they are even smaller, and virussen are not cells at all, and smaller still. I doubt I will ever be able to see those…” Naomi frowned. “But some diseases are caused by parasieten, which can be larger single-celled creatures, or even very small animals…”

“What about the Blight?” Leliana asked. “Could it be caused by these cells?”

Naomi rubbed the back of her neck. “Most likely. Whether it’s a bacterie, or a virus, or something else I’ve never heard of though… I couldn’t say.” She laid her hand on the microscope. “But that’s why you have a microscope. It could be the first step in figuring out what causes the Blight, and then maybe some idea of a cure or… a way to prevent it could be discovered…”

All eyes were on Naomi, and Nassella felt it likely the others gathered had stopped breathing. If what she said was true, if this could be a step toward stopping the Blight…

“Remarkable,” Josephine whispered.

Naomi flushed red. “Don’t… don’t get your hopes up too high. Like I said, I’m very new to this, and… and I don’t even know if I will be smart enough to figure anything out. And even if I did, this sort of research can take years. But… at the very least I could work with Dagna to make instructions for others to use microscopes, and just set the basics. More people could work on that sort of research, make the discoveries…”

“You should not look at the Blight,” Cullen interrupted gruffly. “It’s bad enough you wish to study lyrium. The Blight is far more dangerous.”

Nassella watched Naomi frown slightly, but then she nodded. “You’re right. It would probably be better for a Warden to do such research, since they are immune to the disease.” She rubbed her chin. “Actually, studying Wardens would probably be the best place to start when it comes to understanding the Blight and how it could be cured.”

“You wish to study lyrium?” Vivienne asked, catching part of Cullen’s statement Nassella had missed.

“I… think lyrium may be alive,” Naomi said. “Others have had the same thought, and now… Well, I could actually determine whether it is or not. But I’m still working out a protocol to work with it safely…”

Nassella glanced from Naomi, to Cullen, and felt her mouth drop open. “You think Templars have lyrium living inside of them?” she asked her friend. And she thought it could be true. Red lyrium _grew_ from the bodies of living people. Why couldn’t lyrium do the same?

Naomi nodded, eyes on Cullen. “Maybe. Knowing could help me find a way to help with the withdrawal even more.”

“Surely lyrium is not alive,” Josephine said. “It is mined, after all.”

Naomi shrugged. “I think it’s worth looking into. One thing I’ve learned from coming here is that there is a lot I don’t know about the… universe. Anything is possible.” Her hand wandered toward her chest at that, brushing against the amulet in her chest.

Yes, anything seemed to be possible these days. Nassella remembered the eluvian, that mirror she thought could send her friends home…

“You certainly seem to have much to keep you occupied,” Vivienne said. “You will have to keep us informed about your discoveries.”

Naomi smiled. “Of course! None of this is a secret. I just hope I’ll actually have something to show.”

 

\----- 

 

Nassella entered the rotunda, hoping Solas wouldn’t be disappointed it had taken her nearly the entire day to see him, busy as she had been with meetings, and then Morrigan… Nassella knew she should have seen Solas after returning from the eluvian, but she had been intent on talking to Naomi, to James. But they had been distracted by that microscope, and the time did not seem quite right to bring up the eluvians as a possible portal home…

So once they had dispersed for dinner, Nassella finally made her way to Solas, finding him, predictably, on his scaffolding, touching up one of the murals he had painted months ago.

“Hi Solas,” Nassella called quietly, heart beating, just a little faster, when the bald elf put down his brush and turned toward her, a small smile turning up his lips.

“Vhenan,” he said, moving to descend the ladder that would bring him to the floor.

Nassella looked up at the newest installment of the mural as he moved, the lines crisp and sharp, pigments bright even in the dim light of the candles and sconces lighting the rotunda. Solas’ soft footsteps approached her side, the slight warmth of his body and the scent of fresh paint tickling Nassella’s body. “It’s beautiful,” she said, following the long train of Celene’s gown toward the ceiling, Nassella’s own visage included behind the towering figure of the empress.

“Thank you,” Solas replied. “I hope it captures the grandeur of the ball, and the importance of the role you played that night.”

Nassella continued to stare. Her role had been important, shaped the very future of Orlais. Looking at that fresco she was humbled by the prospect. She was just a Dalish elf, sent to spy on a conclave of humans because she could read, had a tendency to dream beyond her forest home, and had trained her entire life to go unnoticed, to sneak and hide, striking when her prey least expected.

She still did those things, but more and more she had been called to step into the open, shape the world around her in obvious, tremendous ways. Solas had captured that with his fresco, and she still wasn’t sure she wanted any of it.

“I didn’t do it alone,” she whispered. “I had help.” She looked to her left, toward the rest of the mural. “I’ve always had help.”

“Yes, but you lead,” Solas said. “And you make those decisions that shape the world. Do not downplay the significance of what you accomplished in Orlais, Vhenan. You came from the most humble of origins, yet it was you who bent Orlais to your will, used their Game against them until they could do nothing but cede to your wishes.”

It terrified her a little, to think that she really held the power Solas spoke of, a hint of pride bleeding into his voice. But she knew it was at least partially true. Even now, Florianne was sitting in their dungeons, sent to her by Orlais to face judgement. _Her_ judgement.

“Over time, the world may forget what you have done, twist the telling of the tale until you are lost in the legend,” he continued quietly. “But not here. In this place at least, what you have done will be remembered.” He looked down at her and smiled. “And so will you.”

Nassella’s entire body felt warm, overwhelmed with what he had done. Solas spent hours painting, and though she knew he loved it, to spend that energy on _her,_ on perhaps the only true monument that would ever be raised for her. It wasn’t perfect, didn’t hint at the hurt, the people she had lost, the mistakes she had made. But she was still standing, the Inquisition still moving toward defeating Corypheus… and in that, Solas’s painting did not lie.

“Thank you,” Nassella whispered, reaching to take his hand. “This is… no one has ever done something like this for me.”

Solas’s fingers linked with hers, drawing her body against his, his other hand reaching to gently tilt her chin up, toward him. “I am glad you like it,” he murmured.

Nassella moved, lifted herself on her toes so she could crane for Solas’s mouth, reach to take his lips with her own. It had been too long since she kissed him, and she needed to get her mind off of James, finally.

Solas moved in return, bending slightly so he could meet her kiss, his hand gripping at her hip, pulling her flush against his body. Nassella prodded her way into his mouth, her tongue lapping gently at his lips, at his teeth. Solas sighed softly, then withdrew.

“I missed you,” Nassella whispered, looking into his eyes, nudging her lips closer.

“As have I,” Solas replied, and he leaned in again, kissed her again, more firmly this time, controlling the dance of their lips with his own tongue, and even his teeth…

Nassella was out of breath when he finally pulled back, the nerves in her body heightened, aware of every point of contact of his body with hers, a little harder in some places…

“I made you a promise in Orlais,” Solas said, the normally smooth quality of his voice containing gravel. He moved his hips, rolling them ever so slightly against her body.

Nassella’s mind went blank, pleasure shooting from her core. She had hoped, but some part of her had always doubted Solas really intended to sleep with her…

Part of her still wondered if he would really go through with it. But she would not question, not when they were so close. She would not give any hint of her own doubt that might give him a reason to back down.

“I didn’t forget,” she told him, biting at her lip and pressing her own hips into him. “Please tell me you intend to keep it.”

Solas chuckled, kissed her again, hard and fierce and leaving entirely no question as to what he intended to do…

“Yes, I intend to keep it,” he growled into her ear when he was done.

 

\----- 

 

Nassella paced around her room, trying to work some of the nervous energy out of her limbs, out of her body, before Solas arrived. She would have let him have her in the rotunda, in a closet between that room and her own, after that kiss left her entire body enflamed and weak and _ready…_

But he had insisted she return to her room, alone, to clean up after her weeks of travel. And though she hated to wait even another second, when she picked up her pile of travel-stained clothes from the water closest floor after her bath, catching a whiff of the stench that had accumulated over those days, she had been glad he insisted on getting clean. She wanted this first time with Solas to go as well as possible, and smelling fresh would certainly help with that.

And though she rarely felt uncomfortable with her looks, Nassella felt more confident now that she was clean, her hair fresh, if still a little damp, untangled and pulled over one shoulder, and the simple breeches and embroidered tunic she was now wearing soft and unsoiled. She did not resent Solas for delaying, or for wanting her to be clean when they finally had sex.

 _We’re going to have sex_ , Nassella thought, walking out to the balcony, taking a deep breath of the night air. Though it was dark, it was not yet very late, and she hoped Solas intended to stay the night. Because _she_ certainly intended to keep him there as long as possible, for as many rounds as possible…

 _It’s been… over a year and a half,_ she realized, leaning against the railing, watching a pair of torches move along the ramparts. Never in her life, not since she had first slept with Mahanon, had she gone so long without having sex. It had always seemed a part of her life, and it was only the distraction of the Breach, of closing rifts and trying to bring peace, of being the Inquisitor, that had kept her without for so long.

But not anymore. Now, finally, she could share this with someone she loved, could be distracted from everything else…

She wondered what it would be like, while she waited, trying to piece together the experience based on everything else she knew of Solas. He was quiet, spoke with gentle grace, and the mural he had painted told of his patience, the care he could put into the small details…

Nassella’s core pulsed in anticipation. She had no doubt he would be attentive, that she would come away fully satisfied. And he was old enough, surely, to have the experience necessary to know what a woman would want…

But there was the other side of him, the side he only showed her, when he was kissing her. He had come close, she knew, to giving in before, and the hungry way he assaulted her lips, gripped at her body…

It would not be all tender kisses and careful, methodical touches. Nassella suppressed a groan.

She was so. Fucking. Ready.

She tried to remember what it felt like to have a man’s cock inside of her, imagined the stretch, the feeling of fullness, the friction and heat… She slid to the ground resisting the urge to work her hand beneath her pants. Not tonight. Tonight she would not come by her own hand. She would come around Solas’s cock, with _his_ hands on her clit or kneading her breasts and pinching her nipples, his lips sucking at her neck, licking into her mouth, his beard scratching the skin of her cheeks…

Nassella opened her eyes, frowning into the room lit with candles in front of her.

_Fuck._

She had started to think of James, started to imagine it was the human man who would be in her bed that night.

_No, no, no…_

She couldn’t think of James. Not tonight. It was one thing to have a dream about him, but to fantasize while she was awake, while she was waiting for another man…

_What is wrong with me?_

Nothing. Nothing was wrong with her. She was just a woman who liked sex, who had been in a love with a man for months who was not yet ready to take that step with her. That was all. She could not be blamed if her mind wandered a little…

And after tonight, that would no longer be a problem.

So when Solas finally knocked at her door, entering with a bottle of wine in his hand, she barely waited enough time for him to set the alcohol down before she was reaching for his neck, pulling him to her level so she could kiss him. He returned the embrace, eagerly, and Nassella began working her feet backwards, toward her bed…

“Vhenan,” Solas said, pulling back and chuckling softly. “A moment. Let me look at you…”

Nassella took a deep breath, but nodded, stepping back so Solas could see her body. “I look the same as every other day,” she said, smiling at the admiration clear in Solas’s face.

“Which is beautiful,” Solas replied, stepping back into her space, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Excuse me for wanting to appreciate it.”

Nassella grinned. “I look even better naked,” she whispered, heart racing when Solas’s eyes opened a little wider in surprise. “That is what you’re here for, right?” she said, louder, bolder. She reached for the hem of her shirt. “Let me show you…”

But Solas reached for her hands, stopped her from undressing. He smiled, a hungry glint in his eye, and slowly guided her back to the bed. He eased her to the mattress, then followed, straddling her body. “I would like to discover that for myself,” he said softly, toying with the hem of her tunic.

For a few seconds, he did nothing, just looked into her eyes, hinting with his fingers what he wanted to do, but not actually moving forward…

“Ar lath ma, Solas,” Nassella said quietly.

“I do not… want you to regret this,” Solas said, eyes searching hers, still wary…

“I won’t,” Nassella whispered, terrified he would change his mind. “Ar lath ma, ar nuvenin ma… ar _isala_ ma…”

Solas moaned softly, then lowered himself, lifting her tunic enough to expose small sliver of the skin across her stomach.

He kissed her, starting out gentle, just as she had imagined he might, slowly nipping over her navel, working his tongue into his kisses as he eased her tunic up. Nassella stayed as still as she could, closed her eyes and focused on those full lips, warm and soft, travelling over every inch of her skin as he exposed it…

He paused before he could reach her breasts, and Nassella opened her eyes to see him taking in the spreading purple branches that extended from her hips to wrap around her torso. “I did not realize your vallaslin extended so far,” he said quietly.

“I was the best hunter in my clan,” Nassella explained. “I wanted to show that somehow.”

She could not entirely read Solas’ expression as he bent down, used his lips to trace the lines along her body, followed the branches to her breasts…

He was slow, and by the time he finally reached her chest, Nassella was growing impatient. She had been wet since he kissed her in the rotunda, and now, having him here, slowly exposing her body, it was too close to what she wanted, but frustratingly inadequate.

“Solas,” she gasped while he nipped over her lower ribs. “Ar isala ma…”

“In time,” Solas murmured, lifting her tunic up, exposing her breasts to the air, her nipples peaked. He hummed in approval, and lowered to take one between his lips. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pulling at her with his teeth, the small mound of her other breast dwarfed by his hand. “Ma vhenan…”

Nassella moaned, wiggled beneath him, arched her back into him as he sucked on her nipple, sparks and heat flushing through her entire body, her sex pulsing between her legs, which she had hooked around his body…

His kisses became increasingly less gentle as he continued up, left her breasts so he could pull her tunic completely over her head, exposed her torso to him entirely. Solas bent down, brought his lips back to her neck, starting kissing her not with just lips and tongue, but with small nips of his teeth…

“Yes!” Nassella cried, pulling on Solas’s clothing, wanting him just as bare as her. “Now yours…”

But Solas did not move to undress, instead he worked his hands beneath her breeches, cupping her ass and kneading at her flesh, pulling her hips into his while he continued to pepper his small, biting kisses across her chest. Nassella moaned, unable to focus on anything for long, save the feel of his lips and hands on her body, and the hungry scrape of his teeth.

Her breeches were nearly worked off her hips before Solas moved away from her chest, shifting to her lower body so he could pull the pants down, revealing her bare sex and legs. Solas paused then, looking up at her with amusement. “No smalls?”

Nassella grunted, thrust her hips toward him, encouraging him to remove the clothes from her legs. “I never wear smalls,” she said, breathing heavily. “ _Especially_ when I know I’m going to have sex.”

Solas chuckled, the sound sending a bolt of pleasure through Nassella’s body, even wetter, now that she was exposed to Solas. He continued his kisses down her legs, following the journey of her breeches as he exposed the last bits of her body.

And then he worked back up, along the inside of her leg, until he was spreading her thighs, cool air hitting the dampness collecting at the apex of her legs…

But he did not kiss her there, instead crawling up, nestling himself between her legs, the hard swell of his own arousal pressed against her sex. He cupped her face, then leaned down to kiss her mouth, gently rocking against her. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he murmured. “Naked or no.”

Nassella bucked against him, wrapped her legs firmly around his body. “Solas,” she gasped, hardly able to focus on anything besides that hard length between her legs. “I love you, but you need to quit stalling…”

He laughed again. “Of course, ma vhenan.”

He rose to his knees, pulling the soft, wool tunic he so often wore over his chest. He had forgone the wolf’s jaw he usually had strung around his neck, Nassella realized as the shirt disappeared, revealing the slim, but strong, body beneath…

_Not like James at all…_

Nassella swallowed, forced the thought from her mind. Solas was nothing like James, but he was still beautiful, with his wiry mages body, strong from the way he used it to fight. She had seen it before, but never like this, with him kneeling between her bare, spread legs, his breeches damp where he had pressed against her, the length of his cock straining to be free…

He pulled away, moved to the edge of the bed so he could discard his breeches, then prowled back toward her, eyes focused between her legs. Nassella didn’t mind. She was watching Solas, taking in the way his cock was jutting out, brushing against the muscled planes of skin below his navel. She was not disappointed, knew she wouldn’t be, not with how he had felt against her through clothes.

Solas lowered himself, slowly, pressing her body into the bed. Nassella groaned, feeling him hot between her legs.

“No more stalling,” he murmured, rolling his hips until he was centered at her entrance, sliding inside of her…

It did not take her long, once they were joined, for Nassella to reach the edge. She had been hoping, wanting, dreaming of being with Solas for so long, and he was everything she had hoped. Confident and sure, quickly learning where he could thrust in just the right way to leave her thoughts scattering and core winding tight. There was one, traitorous moment when she thought, just maybe, she would prefer his body was larger, taller, enveloping her just that much more, but then Solas began whispering elven in her ear, coaxing her to fall apart for him, to come…

It was over perhaps a little quickly, but Nassella thought that was to be expected, considering how long it had been for either of them. She pressed herself against his body while he sprawled on his back, leg thrown over him, placing small, satisfied kisses on his shoulder.

“It occurred to me that I never asked how your time was since we parted,” Solas murmured eventually.

Nassella grinned. “And when was this occurring to you? Not while we were having sex, I hope.”

Solas chuckled. “I assure you, you were the only thing on my mind during that time. No, it was a thought I had just now.”

Nassella sighed. “Not great,” she admitted. “There were too many giants in the Emerald Graves, fighting demons in the freezing cold was terrible, and red Templars we found were making red lyrium from people…”

“I am sorry I could not be with you.”

Nassella nodded. “You needed to stay with Naomi. From what James said… she wouldn’t be alive without you.”

“I may have developed the spell to drain the mana, but I was not the only one to help her.”

“Still… I’m glad you were… able to fix my mistake.”

Solas rose up slightly, reaching to stroke Nassella’s cheek. “No one believes it was your mistake, vhenan.”

“They should,” she mumbled.

“No,” Solas said sternly. “Mistakes are made, especially in the heat of battle. I will not see you fret over this, and neither would Naomi.”

Even coming from Solas… Nassella could not do it, could not let go of her guilt. But she would not ruin any more of this evening with talk of her past mistakes.

So she nodded, then rolled away from Solas, off of the bed, and retrieved the bottle of wine that had been ignored. She turned back, grinning at the way Solas was watching her bare body.

“Come!” she said, returning to the bed. “Let’s drink this wine, send for some food, while you tell me about those fancy parties you mentioned at the Winter Palace, the ones you have seen in the Fade.” She leaned down, kissing him with a teasing pull at his bottom lip. “And then, once we’ve recovered, we can have sex again.”

 

* * *

 

James turned the glass of brandy in front of him between his fingers, lifting it up after a moment to take another sip. His entire body was fuzzy, warm from the drinks Blackwall had been buying all night. He had followed the other warrior to the tavern after dinner, the man saying he wanted company. James hadn’t realized it would turn into a full night of drinking, empty glass after empty glass piling up while Blackwall kept ordering rounds the moment one was finished.

They had talked, for some time, about their recent return from Orlais, the red Templars they had found in Sahrnia and what they had been up to, then on to less troubling topics, such as what Naomi had been up to with Dagna since they parted ways in Orlais…

And eventually there was just silence. James figured Blackwall’s tolerance for alcohol was likely nearly as high as his, but James knew that _he_ was drunk, had already wandered outside twice to relieve himself, and that meant Blackwall likely was as well. But the Warden showed no indication of stopping.

James finished his drink and Blackwall ordered another round, and James began to wonder if he shouldn’t suggest they stop for the night…

“When I was a boy,” Blackwall said suddenly, breaking their extended silence, “there were these urchins who roamed the streets near my father’s house. One day, they found a dog. A wretched little thing. It came to them for food. They caught it, tied a rope around its neck, and strung it up. Do you know what I did?”

James swallowed another drink. If Blackwall was asking, it probably wasn’t good, and he wasn’t really in the mood to hear about how the other man had left a group of kids to torture a dog… “That’s not… really the type of talk I was expecting when you brought me here.”

“Just listen,” Blackwall said angrily, and James glanced to his side to see the older man glowering into his drink. “I did nothing. Not a damn thing. It was crying. I saw the kicking legs, the neck straining and twisting… And I turned around, went inside, and closed the door. I could have told my father or alerted someone. I didn’t. I just pretended it wasn’t happening.”

Even after all these years, leaving that dog clearly upset Blackwall, and instead of trying to change the subject, James thought to make him feel better. “You were just a kid Blackwall, and you probably weren’t the only one around. No one else stepped in either.”

“Doesn’t make what I did any less wrong,” Blackwall said. James supposed that was true, but he wasn’t sure he would have known what to do in such a situation as a kid… “I may as well have tied the noose myself. We _could_ make the world better. It’s just easier to shut our eyes.”

James didn’t know what had brought this out, what had made Blackwall dredge up this incident from his past, why he seemed to think he _wasn’t_ making the world better. “Jeez Blackwall… you’ve spent the past _year and a half_ saving people from demons and outlaws. We just got back from saving a whole village from those red Templars… you _do_ make the world better.”

“It doesn’t take away the past,” Blackwall said, staring at his drink. “You’ve done far more good than me, fighting just as fiercely, for a world that isn’t even yours. Nearly dying in the process…”

James frowned. “This _is_ my world now,” he grumbled, finishing off his drink. “So yeah, I’m fighting to make it better. Just like you.”

“And Nassella, making saving the world look easy… Don’t you see? It’s not just about what happened back then. There’s always some dog out there, some fucking mongrel that doesn’t know how to stay away…”

James was entirely lost, realizing as Blackwall called for another drink that no matter what he said, Blackwall would not be convinced, would not leave behind whatever track his mind had set on. He would just have to wait to sober up, hopefully moving past whatever had brought on this strange mood.

James turned away the drink Cabot tried to bring him. “I think I’ve had enough for the night,” James said, standing, somewhat unsteadily from his stool. He clapped Blackwall on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe we can spar if you’re not too hungover.”

Blackwall nodded. “Yes, perhaps.”

James had nearly escaped the tavern when he heard his name called. He winced, recognizing the voice, and the irritation in the tone, turning to see Mayra storming toward him from a table nestled in the corner of the main room.

“Hey Mayra…” he started to say.

“Oh, just shut up,” Mayra said loudly, her eyes glazed from her own drinking. “Wereyou _planning_ on ever… letting me know you were back?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips, somehow appearing intimidated despite her short stature.

James ran a hand through his scruff. “Sorry Mayra, I’ve been… catching up with… Naomi…” Standing had scattered his mind, letting him know just how drunk he was, that final drink was quickly catching up to him. “I was going to… find you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Mayra scoffed. “I think I could… fucking espect tosee you sooner thanthat!”

“Sorry,” James mumbled. He took a step forward, reaching for her shoulders. “I’m here now, though… so wecould…”

Marya took a step back, swaying slightly on her feet. “No! I’m… throughwith this…”

James frowned. “What?”

Mayra shook her head, then pushed past James, causing him to stumble slightly. She was out the tavern door before he composed himself, but he quickly caught her in the yard with a few long strides.

He reached for her shoulder, turning her body back to face him. “I’m sorry, Mayra. I didn’t… didn’t meanto hurt you…”

“And what about whenyou left before!” she yelled, shoulders slumping. “You were backfer _one_ day, anyou didn’t come see me ‘fore leaving again.” She was holding back tears.

James’ face flushed. He knew what she was talking about. They had returned to Skyhold from Orlais, and then he had left, answering Nassella’s call for help in Emprise du Lion. “It happened quickly,” he tried to explain. “I had to leave right away…”

“Without saying hello? Seeing mefer _one_ night atleast?”

James had no excuse, aside from his preoccupation with his family… “Naomi almossst died,” he told Mayra. “I… wassn’t thinking.” He took a step closer. “I’m sorry.”

Mayra crossed her arms, and stared across the courtyard. “I’ve been here over a _month_ ,” she said quietly. “And I didn’t hear _anything_ that whole time.”

James closed his eyes, confused. “This isn’t serious,” he said slowly. “You didn’ want that…”

Mayra adjusted her arms, pulled them even tighter around her body. “At first, yeah… but I… I _like_ you James, so I… I though’…” She shrugged, sniffing again. “I thought _you_ wanted more.”

Oh. James had been trying so hard to find a way to love Mayra, to forget his feelings for Nassella, he hadn’t realized that maybe Mayra had developed feelings for him…

He could work with that. He could do better, could show this woman he cared until he actually loved her…

James leaned down, pulled Mayra into a kiss, pressing his lips to hers until her arms fell from to her sides, then linked behind his body. “I like you too,” he told her, wishing he could say more. “And I can do better,” he told her. “I’ll be ‘round for a few days at least.”

Mayra sighed, her hands clutching at his tunic. “Take me back to your room,” she said finally. “Before I change my mind.”

 

\-----

 

James woke sometime in the early morning, Mayra shifting next to him, pulling back the blankets so she could dress. James sat up himself, watching as her body was illuminated by the light of a candle. He looked around, finding where his clothes had been scattered around this small room he had been given after Naomi moved out.

He didn’t remember much about the previous night, except that, even though they had fought, they had definitely had sex when they reached his room…

And Mayra had apparently stayed the night, and James had not been woken from a nightmare. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it was the first night they had spent entirely together. He decided to take that as a good sign.

“Do you have any water,” Mayra asked as she slipped into her smalls. “I drank too much last night.”

“No, sorry,” James said. “I just moved in, so there’s not much here.”

“I’ll stop by the well on my way to the kitchens,” Mayra responded, stepping into her dress and lacing it up the front. She ran her hands through her hair, quickly tying it into a braid, then wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. She looked at James, still sitting naked on the bed. “Last night was… fun,” she said quietly.

James nodded. “I’ll… see you tonight?”

For a moment, Mayra didn’t move, then she nodded back. “Yes.” She walked toward the door. “I need to go, before Cook gets too annoyed.”

“I’ll help you clean the dinner dishes tonight.”

A brief smiled crossed Mayra’s lips. “That would be nice.”

James took another hour before venturing from his room, using the time to organize what few things he had, thinking about Mayra the entire time…

He had been an ass, he knew, not seeing her sooner upon his return, and an ass for being in Skyhold and then leaving without tell her those weeks before. She was right to be angry, and he thought it a miracle she had agreed to get back into bed with him at all.

He _needed_ to do better. She deserved much better than he had been giving her, distracted as he was with his feelings for Nassella.

James made his way to the stables once he ventured forth, remembering, miraculously, his request to spar with Blackwall. But while he was entirely recovered from his hangover, James doubted Blackwall would be feeling as well, without fade-touched healing…

But Blackwall was not in the stables. James stood with his hands on his hips, looking around for anyone who might point him toward the other man. But the place was empty, and he nearly left before he noticed the table by the stairs where Blackwall often worked, a small rocking horse sitting finished on its surface.

Except it wasn’t a rocking horse, James realized as he approached, admiring the new coat of gleaming stain. The creature had a beak, and clawed feet, and looked to be covered in feathers.

A griffon, then, the now extinct, winged mounts of the Wardens. Blackwall must have finished it the day before, after they returned from their mission.

And beside the rocker, James noticed a note.

_Inquisitor,_

James almost put it down. It was for Nassella, and he shouldn’t read it. But the last line caught his attention.

_It’s been an honor to serve you._

James quickly read the rest of the letter, growing more and more worried as he did. The note, along with Blackwall’s strange rant the night before, had James convinced something was horribly wrong…

He nearly ran into the keep, taking the stairs that led him through Skyhold’s underbelly, through the kitchens and cellars to the great hall, two at a time, continuing the pace up the main tower, until he was outside of Nassella’s door.

“Ness!” he called, pounding on the wooden panels. “Ness wake up! You need to see this!”

He continued knocking until he heard movement on the stairs beyond, stepping back just as the door swung open, revealing not Nassella, as he had expected, but Solas.

Solas. In Nassella’s room. Without his shirt on.

“May I help you?” Solas asked quietly.

James felt his entire body flush, jealousy firing through every nerve in his body. He had figured Nassella and Solas were sleeping together, but he’d never seen the evidence, hadn’t even thought the other man would be there now…

James held up the letter. “Ness needs to see this.”

Solas held out his hand. “I will take it to her.”

James shook his head. “It’s about Blackwall, and I need to tell her some things too.”

“Surely this can wait,” Solas continued, stepping to the side to more effectively block the door.

“Ness!” James called, ignoring Solas’s attempt to take the letter from his hand. “I need to talk to you!”

“It’s fine Solas!” he finally heard Nassella call. “Let him in!”

Solas took a final moment to glare at James, then stepped aside. James rushed past the elf, hurrying up the stairs into Nassella’s room…

He paused at the top, eyes immediately drawn to the large four-poster bed in the center of the room, sheets tossed about, a blanket crumpled on the floor. His chest squeezed, and he wrenched his eyes away, to Nassella walked toward him from her water closet, her hair just as mussed as the bed, a robe wrapped around her otherwise naked body…

“What is it James?” she asked quietly, eyes glancing nervously toward the bed, pulling the robe closer around her.

James cleared his throat, then handed her the letter. It didn’t matter what she did with Solas. That was her business. He had no right to be jealous. And right now, he needed to find out what had happened to his friend. “It’s Blackwall. Something’s wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar lath ma – I love you  
> Ar nuvenin ma – I want you  
> Ar isala ma – I need you
> 
> The Dutch should be pretty self-explanatory


	100. Forgive Us Our Debts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW toward the end.  
> Also some threats of sexual assault.

Naomi used her finger to poke at the congealed gelatin, fortified with added sugar and druffalo broth, in the glass dish, checking to see that it had set. She jotted some notes down on the consistency, the color, the time it had taken to set, then drew a small star at the top of the page. She had finally worked out a recipe that seemed promising, that could be used to grow bacteria. It wasn’t agar, but she hoped the gelatin would be the substitute she needed. Whether bacteria would actually grow…

Naomi picked up the glass dish with the gelatin and ran her finger across the plate, making sure to spread any bacteria the digit contained to the entire surface. She placed the lid on the dish, then glanced over her shoulder, toward the forge at the center of the room.

To get the best results she needed heat, a warm place for the bacteria to really thrive. And in the undercroft, that was the forge. She stood and walked to the source of heat, circling it until she found a small alcove far enough away from the most burning air to place the gelatin plate, nudging it in so it would not get in the way.

“Whatcha got there?” Dagna asked as she came to the forge herself, sticking a piece of metal into the inferno.

Naomi stood and placed her hands on her hips. “A gelatin plate. I ran my finger over the surface to see if any bacteria will grow, and it needs someplace warm to incubate. I’ll check tomorrow to see what’s happened.”

Dagna nodded. “Are you going to be incubating a lot of these plates?”

Naomi glanced down at her lone plate nudged into that small space near the forge. “Um… yeah, eventually I suppose I will be.”

Dagna turned the metal at it began to glow red. “Why don’t I help you set up a box to keep them in? Or another mini forge… Actually, there are some heating runes that could probably be perfect…”

Naomi bit at the inside of her lip, excited at the prospect. But she didn’t want to inconvenience Dagna. “You would help with that? Don’t you have other things to work on?”

“Sure I do!” Dagna said, withdrawing the metal, then returning it to the heat after a quick inspection. “But I can make time for your stuff too. Trust me, it would be a nice backup for when I need a break from the red lyrium Cullen and the Inquisitor have me looking at.”

“How is that going? Do you have any idea how Samson is able to survive with armor made of the stuff?”

“Not yet,” Dagna said. “But it will just take more time,” she added, undeterred. “And a lot more red lyrium.”

Naomi nodded in understanding, knowing the time it often took to conduct research well. She glanced toward the corner of the undercroft Dagna had set aside for her experiments with the red substance, off-limits to anyone not properly protected. “Hopefully you are able to find something.”

“No kidding,” Dagna said, removing her metal and returning to her normal workspace. Naomi followed. “It’s a wonder he’s still alive, or hasn’t gone mad…” the dwarf paused, staring off into space. “Though, I suppose he must be mad, to wear that stuff, and it probably is killing him…” She shook her head, then placed the metal on an anvil and began to work it with a pair of tongs. “Anyway, maybe later today we can meet and you can let me know what you would need to incubate your little cells, and anything else you might find useful.” She lifted the metal to inspect her work, then reached for a hammer. “After making that microscope, I’m curious about other things I might be able to make from your world.”

Naomi leaned against one of Dagna’s unused tables, replying in the breaks between Dagna’s hammering. “That would be great... thank you. And I… have plenty of ideas.”

The metal Dagna was working cooled, and she returned to the forge. “Oh, and I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little while for the next shipment of lyrium. I asked about getting you some that’s meant for the Templars, but they’ve rationed it to the last drop, and aren’t willing to spare any. The mages were just as stingy. I could give you some from my own supply…”

“No,” Naomi said firmly. “I know you’re running low too, and have plans for the rest of it. Besides, I really want the stuff meant for the Templars, since you said it’s treated differently than the rest. I can wait.” She looked back toward her little gelatin plate, basking in the warmth of the forge, then back to her desk littered with herbs and books, another batch of potion distilling away. “I have plenty of other things to work on in the meantime.”

 

\-----

 

Naomi paused before opening the door that would lead her into the dungeons, turning the small vial of green potion she was carrying between her fingers. She didn’t need to be there. She knew that. Helping Alec was entirely her idea, and she knew a number of people, Cullen and her brother primarily, who would be disappointed, angry even, that she had decided to see the former Templar while they were away.

But she couldn’t wait for them to return from Orlais. It had already been far too long since the last time she had tried to give Alec s _omething_ to assist with his withdrawal. And she could handle herself. She didn’t need Cullen constantly standing by her side.

Even if she was nervous to see the man again. Nervous, because she didn’t know what he would do, what he might say, and nervous because it had been weeks since she had last tried to help him. She hoped he was better, but if he was worse…

She wouldn’t know until she entered that dungeon, so Naomi took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The only guard was posted outside the door, so Naomi was alone when she entered the room lined with cells. Alone, save for the other occupants of the dungeon. Naomi glanced down the line, grateful that most of those incarcerated seemed to be sleeping, or otherwise occupied. Naomi briefly caught the eye of Florianne, the older woman sitting on her bedroll, glaring through the bars, but Naomi quickly looked away. She didn’t think about what Nassella might do with the Duchess once she returned.

Naomi approached Alec’s cell slowly, trying to determine in the dim light if the man was awake, and attempting to decide what she was going to say. Part of her wished he was sleeping.

“I wondered if I’d ever see you again,” Alec said quietly from his bedroll, followed by a cough, his body half obscured by shadow. Her first question answered, Naomi stopped her advance, gripping the vial, still not entirely sure what to say.

“I brought you a potion,” she finally said, taking a direct approach. She held up the bottle. “To help with the pain.”

“Is it lyrium?”

Naomi shook her head. “No.”

Alec laughed, loud and jarring and bitter. “I don’t fucking want your help,” he sneered. Then he coughed again, longer than his previous bout.

Every muscle in Naomi’s body told her to leave, every instinct and impulse to avoid conflict firing. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t strong enough to deal with someone like Alec, someone who hated her.

But she also wanted to help him, to help Cullen. It kept her from running.

“You sound sick. This could help you…”

Alec stood, slowly, and walked toward her, gripping the cell’s bars as he glared at her with gaunt, hate-filled eyes. “I don’t want your help,” he repeated. “For all I know, you poisoned it.”

Naomi had taken a step back, but she didn’t leave, though her heart raced. Alec didn’t just sound sick, he looked it. Not like he had the first time she came to him in the dungeons, but she thought be might be heading back to that point. His eyes were glazed, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, and though she knew he had been offered the chance to bathe, by the way he stank, he had clearly not been partaking.

She couldn’t leave. She had to try to help. “I know you’re angry…” she said, wishing her voice was stronger. “But…”

“Angry?!” Alec yelled suddenly, pressing even closer to the bars. Naomi jumped and took another step back. Alec laughed, lips pulled back in a sneer. “You ruined my life!” he seethed, knuckles turning white as he gripped the bars, eyes wide. “They took away the lyrium, my freedom, because _you_ ran to the Commander, and he couldn’t stand the idea that someone else wanted to fuck you.” He attempted to shake the bars. “I haven’t seen sunlight in months because you couldn’t handle a little flirting.”

Naomi had heard it all before. Alec blamed her, entirely, for what had happened, completely ignoring what _he_ had done. It occurred to Naomi that he may not even realize he had done anything wrong, and it made her angry. There was only so much accusation she could take, so many attacks on her character, on Cullen’s, before it was too much.

“This is not my fault,” she told Alec, standing just a little straighter. “And it has nothing to do with Cullen—”

Alec barked out another laugh. “Don’t fucking deny it. Everyone knows you’re spreading your legs for him. You don’t even try to hide it, rutting in his office—” Alec broke down into coughing, but Naomi didn’t know what to say, stunned that he knew so much… “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he continued through his fit. “You mages are all the same, trading your cunts for a scrap of Templar protection…”

Naomi was furious, blood pounding in her ears, adrenaline causing her stomach to roil. The way he saw mages, women, made her sick, worse because he could not see how twisted he was. And he frightened her, because he had stopped coughing, had started to leer, and Naomi’s body told her to run away from this man who would hurt her if he could, if only the iron bars no longer separated them.

“That’s why you’re here!” Naomi nearly yelled, loosing her rising tension with words. “Not because you harassed me, or touched me when I told you to stop, or threatened to rape me, or gave me this,” she added, pointing to the scar on her cheek. “You’re here because you _actually_ raped mages! Because you used your powers and position against them. You can’t have lyrium because you used it to hurt people!”

“I should have taken you in Haven,” Alec snarled, eyes roving over her body, ignoring everything she had said. “It would have been so easy,” he continued, tongue flicking across his lips. “You were naked and injured… you couldn’t even speak the language…” He pressed against the cell’s bars. “I could have fucked you, and you wouldn’t have said a word.”

He was hopeless, Naomi realized, stepping further away from him. He would not listen, would not realize what he was, would not change. She couldn’t understand why he was like this, what had made him so uncaring, who had taught him he could have whatever he wanted at the expense of others…

She couldn’t stay there, couldn’t stay in this dungeon, alone, with this man who wished he had raped her…

Naomi turned and walked away, Alec’s laugh grating on her ears as she retreated, his cough returning before she could reach the door. She blinked, attempting to keep back the tears that had started to accumulate, not even caring if she looked upset, ignoring the laughter that had started to drift from the other cells.

She couldn’t see him again, Naomi decided as she slammed the door behind her and leaned against the wall. The guard was gone, probably relieving himself, and Naomi was grateful as she began to cry. She slid to the ground and covered her face, knowing she could never come down here again.

Alec didn’t just hate her or blame her for what had happened to him. He wanted to hurt her, and because he was not physically able to do so, he threatened her, told her instead what he wanted to do…

And it worked, Naomi realized as she sobbed. She was terrified of him, not only of what he might try to do if he was ever released, but terrified of what he could have done.

She knew he was right about Haven. If he had done more than look at her that night, if he had forced himself on her… she would have stayed silent.

She would have trusted no one after that, would have withdrawn from everyone… and after losing David, she wondered if she would have been able to pull herself out of grief, if she would have made herself fight for her new life. She would certainly not be with Cullen now.

Alec could have destroyed her, and it disturbed Naomi, deeply, to know that he had thought to do it, that he wished he had, with no regard for her or her feelings. She knew he had little respect for the wishes of others, that he valued his own desires over all else, had used his position to enforce his will, but this… his fixation on her, on hurting her, his complete lack of remorse…

She couldn’t handle it, couldn’t comprehend his behavior. She wrapped around herself, skin crawling at the thought of Alec touching her, and attempted to keep her mind from falling too deeply into those thoughts. He was behind bars, he couldn’t reach her, but her body cried out in fear…

 _No!_ Naomi thought, gripping the vial she still held in her hand, rubbing at the tears in her eyes. _He can’t hurt me. I’m safe. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe…_

She was stronger now, she could fight, she was not alone… and she would never consider staying silent again.

And she needed… to let go of Alec and what he had done, like she had let go of her cousin.

_Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors…_

Naomi sniffed, rubbing the tears out of her eyes. She didn’t want to spend any more time crying over Alec, any more time subjecting herself to his gaze, to his words, to his presence…

She wanted to help him, _needed_ someone else to test her potions… but it was too much. Cullen was already gone, along with her brother and best friend. She would spend enough lonely nights without crying over Alec, without worrying about the things he said and did to her.

She hated giving up on him, giving up on anything. But it hurt too much, and she was tired of hurting…

Steps echoed down the stairs and Naomi attempted to wipe the moisture once more from her face, to hide from the returning guard just how upset she was. But it was not the guard returning from the latrine on the stairs, and Naomi stiffened as a man with black hair stepped out of the stairwell, his body covered in Templar’s armor.

The man stopped when he saw her sitting against the wall, hand resting on his sword, not unlike Cullen, Naomi realized, and frowned. “What are _you_ doing here?” he asked.

Naomi scrambled to her feet, recognizing the man as Emory, one of Alec’s companions. “I was… trying to give Alec this,” she said quietly, holding up the vial. Emory’s frown deepened.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said gruffly.

Naomi gripped the potion, wishing Emory would move out of her way. She didn’t want to be alone with a man… especially someone so close to Alec.

But she was tired of being told to leave, that she was unwanted, when she was just trying to help.

“Excuse me for wanting to help your friend,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted Emory to move…

Emory growled softly. “You are not helping by coming down here. I don’t see why you want to help him anyway. You’re the one who put him here…”

“I didn’t do this!” Naomi shouted, what little control she had snapping. “I asked him to leave me alone and he wouldn’t listen! It’s not my fault he kept trying to have sex with me, or that he raped other women!” She took a step toward Emory, the black-haired man still glaring at her. “It’s not like I wanted this to happen! It’s not like I wanted him to end up down here! But he’s… he’s crazy, and dangerous! He said… said he still wishes he had raped me, after everything…” Naomi stopped, took a deep breath. She was angry, but she shouldn’t be admitting this, shouldn’t be revealing so much to this man who was essentially a stranger. A stranger who called Alec a friend.

And then to her surprise, Emory sighed, his expression smoothing. “That’s why you shouldn’t be down here. Alec was always fixated on you – more than I really ever understood – but after they took the lyrium away…” He shook his head. “He’s obsessed. He won’t talk about anything else, especially after I mentioned walking in on you and the Commander—“

“That was you?” Naomi asked, mouth dropping open. She held herself even closer, uncomfortable with thinking that this man had also seen her unclothed—

Emory scowled. “Trust me, I saw little more than the Commander’s ass…” He cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “What did Alec say to you?”

Naomi squeezed her arms. She wished the guard would return, to save her from this conversation, from being trapped in this hallway with this man. “Nothing,” she whispered.

“Fine, don’t say, but I can imagine,” Emory said. “All he ever talks about when I come down here is what he wants to do to you… rape you or kill you or both. And he’s started asking _me_ to do it instead…”

Naomi stared at the man in horror, her entire body screaming at her to leave. It was one thing to be uncomfortable with a stranger, but Emory had been encouraged to hurt her…

“Maker, I wouldn’t do that!” Emory said quickly, shaking his head. “Sure, I was angry that Alec ended up down here, and about how it happened, but I wasn’t going to _do_ anything about it.”

Naomi felt little better, and she was done waiting for Emory to move. “I have somewhere to be,” she said as confidently as she could. “So if you’ll let me pass—”

“Don’t come down here again,” Emory said, unmoving. “It doesn’t help him to see you.”

“I won’t,” Naomi responded. “Please, I need to leave…”

Emory glanced at the vial in her hand. “What’s that supposed to do? Why do you keep trying to bring it down here?”

Naomi swallowed thickly, pushed down the fear rising higher in her body. “It’s to ease his symptoms… so he can sleep and won’t be in as much pain.” She turned it between her fingers. “Alec’s getting worse again… it could help.”

Emory held out his hand. “I’ll see if I can convince him to take it.”

Naomi’s first thought was to refuse, as her grip tightened on the vial. The sympathy she had for the Templar had been strained incredibly thin, and for one, brief moment, she wanted him to suffer, to have migraines and aches and searing pain as the lyrium was leached from his body, spend his nights plagued by nightmares…

_Forgive our debts, as we forgive our debtors…_

Naomi nodded, ignoring that impulse that demanded pain, and forced herself to take the steps necessary to reach Emory’s outstretched hand and place the vial between his fingers. “There,” she said quietly, stepping away from Emory, toward the stairs. “Hopefully he’ll listen to you.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen settled down by the fire, relishing the fact that he did not need to huddle near the flames for warmth. Once they had descended from the heights of the Frostbacks, the lingering heat of autumn in Orlais had been a welcome relief.

It was the only relief he had found so far in Orlais. He was glad he was there, that he would be with the Inquisitor when they confronted Samson and hopefully put an end to him, but Cullen worried constantly about what was happening back at Skyhold, how the preparations for moving the army into the Arbor Wilds were going in his absence. And he missed Naomi, desperately, especially when he crawled into his bed alone every night.

But it was what they had discovered in Val Royeaux that was the most upsetting. They had arrived in the city just in time, on the day that Cyril Mornay was scheduled to be executed. They waited with the crowds, in the rain, until the appointed time, James, Solas, Nassella, Varric, and Cassandra scanning the crowd gathered for signs of Blackwall. But they hadn’t needed to look, because Blackwall had presented himself, at the gallows, to stop the execution and turn himself over for the crime.

Except, he wasn’t actually the Warden Blackwall. He wasn’t a warden at all. Instead, he was Thom Rainier, the Orlesian captain who had ordered the massacre of the Callier family during the early days of the Orlesian civil war, the crime Mornay had been sentenced to pay for.

It left a bad taste in Cullen’s mouth and a pit in his stomach. It was despicable, what Rainier had done, and Cullen could have been happy with leaving the man to rot in the Orlesian prison.

And yet… Rainier had fought for the Inquisition, spilled his blood alongside the Inquisitor… Cullen couldn’t ignore that sacrifice, had to admire the man for what he had done the past couple of years for the Inquisition.

The Inquisitor had seemed just as torn. Cullen could still remember the way her expression had flitted between confusion, understanding, betrayal, and anger, her hair plastered to her face by the falling rain. Then she had schooled her emotions, and followed the guards as they led Rainier away, using her influence as the Inquisitor to gain an audience with the man she had always known as Blackwall.

They had sent a letter to Skyhold that day, asking Josephine to use what goodwill they had garnered in Orlais after saving the Empress at the Winter Palace to have the man released into the Inquisition’s custody.

What she planned to do with him, Cullen did not know. He doubted Nassella knew what she would do yet either.

The fire spewed sparks toward the sky as James placed another log on the dying fire, giving the flames new life as they licked at the unburned fuel. Cullen watched the other man grab a stick and poke at the fire, glaring the entire time.

James did not seem to be taking the news of Blackwall’s deception well. He had cursed and grumbled under his breath when Nassella had relayed the entire story the night at camp after the reveal, and sulked during the following days. He was still sulking, poking at that fire.

Cullen wondered if he should say something, ask the other man what he was thinking. James had spent a lot of time with Blackwall, was the one who had first discovered the man was gone, and learning what Rainier had done likely hit him harder than anyone.

Cullen again wished Naomi was there, thinking that James might feel more comfortable opening up to his sister. But she was back at Skyhold, and Cullen couldn’t imagine it was good for James to stew in his anger.

“Is everything alright?” Cullen asked as James somewhat violently knocked over a log that had been precariously leaning against another, sending even more sparks jumping into the sky.

James glanced up toward Cullen and sat up. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said gruffly.

Cullen should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “It’s entirely understandable for you to be upset,” Cullen said. “Rainier trained you…”

James frowned deeper at Cullen’s use of the name Rainier. “Yeah, I’m upset, alright?” he said, staring at the fire. “Blackwall… Rainier… whatever, taught me like, everything I know, and turns out he’s a murderer.” James poked at the fire again. “He just… lied to everyone!” James threw the stick to the ground. “Bastard,” he muttered.

“He owned up to his mistakes, in the end,” Cullen offered. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t entirely condemn Rainier. Yes, the man had done horrible things in the past, made terrible mistakes… but so had Cullen. The important thing, the crucial difference that set Rainier apart, that Cullen hoped set himself apart, was their desire to do better, to make up for those mistakes. It didn’t change what they had done in the past, but Cullen had to appreciate what Rainier was trying to do, hope that in some way both of them could find a way to atone.

“I guess,” James grumbled, casting his eyes past the fire, toward the tents set up in a small arc below a tree. “But I… don’t want to see him again.”

“You may get your wish,” Cullen said quietly. “The Inquisitor could still decide to give Rainier the sentence intended for Mornay.”

James shook his head. “Ness won’t do that. She could have left him in Orlais if that was what she wanted.”

James was likely right. Nassella had spared people who had done far more than Rainier, whom she had never called a friend. Cullen found it very unlikely her judgement of Rainier would be death.

Cullen watched James, wishing he could give him more in the way of comfort. But the shock was still fresh. James needed time to come to terms with what Rainier had done, with the realization that his teacher’s past was darker than he had thought.

While he was watching, James scowled, and Cullen glanced toward the tents to see what the other man saw. He and James were on first watch, and everyone else had already retired. Two of the tents were dark, but the third was glowing with a soft light, shadowy figures moving behind the canvas. It was the Inquisitor’s tent, and as Cullen watched, the movement of Nassella and Solas brought them together, their bodies pressing close until it was impossible to see where either began. A laugh echoed across the camp, followed by a soft murmur to stay quiet from Solas. Cullen started to burn red, but then another laugh from Nassella was cut short as Solas cast a silencing spell. And though the light also dimmed, it was not extinguished.

Cullen quickly looked away as clothes started to be stripped from bodies. He saw James had also looked away, glaring even more angrily into the fire.

And then he stood, grabbed his sword, and started walking away from the tents. “I’m going to walk the perimeter,” he mumbled. Something Cullen had been suspecting snapped into place, and he knew that James was angry about more than just Rainier.

James wanted to be in that tent with Nassella. Cullen couldn’t say whether it was love, or simply lust, but James’s reaction made it clear that he was jealous of the man currently with the Inquisitor. Cullen wondered if anyone else knew. Surely Nassella didn’t realize, the way she laughed and joked and touched James when they were together. Surely the Inquisitor would be more discrete when she was with Solas, if she knew how James felt about her.

As for the others… no one they were currently travelling with seemed to suspect. No one threw knowing glances toward James, or made jokes. Cullen supposed James could have gone this long keeping his feelings to himself. He was, after all, usually serious, often frowning…

The sounds of steel hitting wood drifted faintly from the direction James had gone, interspersed with muffled grunts. James was using his sword to work out his frustrations, likely working through series after series of drills to distract himself from the activities of the elven lovers. Cullen shook his head. However James had kept his feelings to himself, cracks were appearing in his armor.

Naomi might know... though she had told Cullen nothing. He would ask when he returned, he decided. It was not Cullen’s instinct to get involved in something like this, but he didn’t like seeing James so unhappy, and perhaps it would be better to separate the man from the Inquisitor for a time.

Cullen looked back toward the tents, then quickly away again, blushing furiously. He certainly did not need to have _that_ image of the Inquisitor in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Nassella gasped, clutched the furs between her fingers as Solas pulled her hips back, drove himself even deeper into her from behind. Her body shuddered with satisfaction as he filled her, moaning when he removed himself, pushed in again, sending fire through her entire body.

“Yes,” she keened when he adjusted his angle, running his hands along her back and easing her shoulders toward the ground. Nassella arched her back, spread her legs further apart, tipped her ass higher, sex pulsing when Solas grunted, thrusting harder. “Ar isala ir…”

He obliged, moving even more quickly against her body, pressing further inside of her. He braced her hips with one hand, working the other around her front and between her legs, leaning down slightly to brush his lips along her spine.

“Ma vhenan,” he murmured, driving into her with increasing pace. “My beautiful heart…”

Nassella was floating, weightless, nothing existing but the motion of Solas inside of her, his hand pressing against where they were joined, rubbing at her clit until she thought she might burst. She didn’t want him to stop, wanted to stay joined like this for the rest of the night, where she didn’t have to think about Corphyeus, or Blackwall, or Samson…

But of course it did not last, and soon, the movement of his cock inside of her, the deft manipulation of his fingers against her, had Nassella moaning, gasping as the muscles in her core tensed in anticipation…

“Garas, ma vhenan,” Solas growled, voice thick. “Garas sahlin. Garas ar…”

“Solas,” Nassella gasped, pressing her forehead to the ground as she came, a cry falling past her lips as pleasure shot through her body in wave after wave, matching the pounding of Solas into her with several more strong, hard thrusts, finally ending when Solas came undone, spilling hot into her sex, cock pulsing against her walls as he slowly softened.

Solas fell down to the bedroll, pulling her with him, his arm wrapped around her body, gently palming one of her breasts. Nassella pushed her backside into his groin, smiling when he moaned softly.

He hadn’t wanted to have sex. He hadn’t wanted to have sex since that first time a week earlier. Nassella understood, to an extent. They _had_ left Skyhold the same day that Blackwall had disappeared, quickly scrounging together their plans to find Samson’s lair, with plans to stop by an old elven temple, a Chantry to meet Leliana, and hunt a wyvern in the Exalted Plains before returning to Skyhold.

There had been little privacy, little time or energy to have sex as they hurried to Val Royeaux. And then the truth had come out about Blackwall…

Thom, actually. Thom Rainier, a fugitive captain of the Orlesian army, wanted for murder and treason.

It had shaken Nassella, to learn this of her companion’s past, that he had lied to her and everyone in the Inquisition. She had not suspected, once, that he was not who he claimed, that he had done something so terrible.

She was still sick over it, still horrified. And angry. Angry that she had not seen through his lies, and angry that he had lied at all.

She had done little but think about the false warden for days, and so, that night, when she retired to her tent with Solas, she had kissed him, asked him to make love…

He had finally relented, and so now Nassella could lay, content for the first time in days, warm in his embrace.

But the feeling could only last so long, and as Nassella’s body calmed and cooled, as her mind cleared from the haze the pleasure of their coupling had left, her thoughts were once more filled with Blackwall… Rainier, and what she would do when they returned.

She knew the law. In Orlais, he would be hanged. It was why she had him released. Because, no matter what he had done, Blackwall… Rainier, was still her friend, still the man who had fought across Thedas for her and the Inquisition, risking his life for the lives of others.

And after talking to him, Nassella believed he was honestly trying to make amends, to make his life into something better. Yes, he had lied, but he was trying to be someone different.

But she didn’t know if it was enough, if she could justify forgiving him for what he had done because he was sorry.

“What are you thinking?” Solas murmured, moving his hand to gently stroke her hair, tracing the pointed shell of her ear.

“Blackwall,” Nassella said quietly. “I don’t know what to do with him.” She sighed. “I… I want to forgive him, because of what he has done, what we’ve been through together. But… I’m not sure it would be appropriate.”

“I had assumed we were alike,” Solas said quietly. “We have seen war, know its terrible costs, but understand that it is necessary. But there was nothing necessary in what Rainier did. He did not just survive death and destruction, he sowed them. To feed his own desires.”

Nassella turned, gently extracting herself from Solas’s embrace so she could look into his eyes. “He knows that. He told me the guilt that he feels. And he… he took Blackwall’s name to try and make up for it. How can I ignore that?”

Solas frowned slightly. “He wore another skin. He ran away rather than face what he had done. He wasted his time.”

Nassella chewed on her lip. “He faced it eventually, after fighting for so long to be better…”

Solas’s brow smoothed. “Yes… he has taken the first step. Accepted the blood to make things better. That is the hardest part, a choice few make.”

Nassella nodded, slipping her leg over Solas’s body. “That’s what I thought too. He deserves… better than death.”

Solas smiled softly, stroking her cheek. “You do not have to make a decision tonight,” he said quietly. “For now, focus on our preparations to confront Samson. That is by far a more pressing issue.”

Nassella sighed and pressed her body against Solas, warm in the tent he had enchanted to ward off the cold night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ar isala ir – I need more.  
> Garas, ma vhenan – Come, my heart.  
> Garas sahlin. Garas ar – Come now. Come for me.


	101. Singing

James grimaced as they passed through the gates of the abandoned temple, the building not only falling apart from disuse, but set ablaze. They had reached the headquarters of Corypheus’s general Samson north of the Waking Sea only to find the temple deserted and burning, thick clouds of oily, rancid smoke rising into the humid air and wafting over their group in bitter waves. James blinked to clear the acrid smoke, hands tightening on the grip of his sword, body tense for a fight that might never happen.

“Maker tell me he hasn’t fled,” Cullen said, disappointment clear in his voice. James felt it too. This was supposed to be their chance to end Samson, to further weaken Corypheus and his plans, and it looked like they would fail in that.

“Someone must have tipped him off we were coming,” Nassella said, taking another tentative step forward. “It looks near deserted.”

James wasn’t entirely surprised. They hadn’t moved as quickly as they could have, or as secretively. They had picked up a small unit of Inquisition soldier’s once they crossed the Waking Sea, and it would have only taken one of Samson’s scouts, one sentry along the road to alert those in the temple they were coming. And James could understand why the red Templars had fled. The temple was falling apart, with no real way to defend the walls effectively from an attack. James and the others would have been able to infiltrate the buildings even if the walls were defended. And if Corypheus was gathering his armies further south, it made sense that the temple had been ill-manned to begin with. Knowing the Inquisitor was approaching with her force, Samson may have decided that fleeing to join the bulk of the red Templar forces in the south was a better move than staying to be confronted by an angry Inquisitor.

But as they passed through the gates into the main courtyard, James saw movement. He drew his sword, already moving toward the front of the group. The temple was not deserted after all.

“I’ll take the lead,” he announced, swinging his sword experimentally, the weight familiar in his hands. “I’ll draw out whatever’s ahead so there are no surprises.”

“James, there is no need—“

“Be careful,” Nassella said over Cullen’s protestation. “Don’t get overwhelmed.”

“Inquisitor, surely you can’t be serious?”

“It’s all right Cullen. James goes ahead all the time. We’ll just be a step behind.”

James jogged ahead with a nod, moving along the left side of the courtyard, noting the large, crystalline red Templar that started to lumber out of a blind alcove as soon as he moved into the open. But James didn’t stop, instead running ahead and drawing the beast’s attention. He trusted the others would quickly dispatch the Templar while it was distracted, and knew that moving ahead was what was needed. He ran further into the temple where more red Templars came into view, shouting until the entire lot started lumbering his way. James ran up a flight of stairs then turned to the right, rounding the corner and sprinting across a terrace, thinking to drop back down the other side, to the courtyard below, bringing himself and the red monsters to a more open arena…

But he was forced to skid to a halt as his way forward was cut off by two red Templars, morphed and twisted beyond any recognition. James cursed under his breath and shot a glance behind his shoulder. He had effectively drawn the attention of nearly every red Templar in the area. Now he just had to hold them off until the others could arrive.

Trusting his companions, James swung at the nearest red Templar, slicing the beast square in the chest with his long reach. The creature stumbled back, a chip of red lyrium flying through the air to skid across the cobblestones. James turned around, just in time to catch a blow from another Templar, shoving back with enough force to give himself a couple feet of room. He swung again, his blade slicing clean through an arm hurling toward his body, the limb clattering to the ground.

Unfortunately, red Templars did not go down like normal people, and James had to swing at the other arm slicing through the air. It too dropped to the ground, the Templar roaring, though James doubted it was from pain.

But _he_ cried in pain as he was struck from behind, any time he had gained from his initial attack lost. He twirled, slamming his sword into the side of the red Templar winding back for another strike, the force of his blow sending the creature sideways into a third. James rolled his shoulders, the pain subsiding until it was gone, bringing his sword around for another blow.

Ice fell from the sky, exploding around James with puffs of cool mist and flurries of snow, the red Templars frozen in place. Yells accompanied the burst of magic, and James didn’t need to turn to know that Nassella and the others had broken through the red Templars he had left behind. James moved quickly, removing the head of the first, then the second red Templar before him, shoving them to the ground where they exploded with a burst of red and ice and corrupted flesh.

James turned, and watched Nassella fall to the ground riding the back of what was left of the armless Templar. She stood gracefully, casting her green gaze around the courtyard, thrusting her daggers into their sheaths strapped to her back. James stared, following every sensual movement of her body. The image of her shadow, pressed against Solas’s passed in front of James’s eyes. He shook his head slightly, pushing the image away.

“Nice work,” she said, in his direction but directed toward the others approaching from behind. “Let’s move deeper.”

They moved through a second courtyard in much the same manner, clearing the few red Templars that had been tasked with staying behind. James wondered why Samson had even bothered. There were hardly enough to seriously threaten to keep them from entering the temple proper.

And then the behemoth appeared.

They were nearly inside, crossing the final landing toward the door when the ground started to shake, the giant beast appearing in the doorway, blocking their way inside.

Everyone slowed, sizing up the creature as it swayed slightly back and forth. But it didn’t move, just stood and blocked the door.

Someone needed to draw it out, but as the giant swung its clubbed arm in a wide arc, roaring, James knew no one else could risk being hit.

So he took a step forward, already preparing his legs for dodging. “I’ll get it in the open,” he said, glancing toward Nassella for approval. The elf frowned slightly, but nodded, her eyes moving quickly back to the behemoth.

“We’ll spread around to the side. Just get us an opening from behind.”

James took another step forward, pushing down a spike of fear as the behemoth roared, that arm swinging out again. James noted the giant’s reach, and jogged forward just out of it, waving his sword where he thought the creature’s eyes might gaze.

“Hey!” he yelled, shifting his weight slightly, prepared to jump back should it move forward. He waved his sword in another arc. “Come and get me you bastard!”

The behemoth’s body creaked as the arm swung. James flinched, but held his ground, knowing he was out of reach.

“Nice try!” James yelled, waving his sword, taking an experimental step forward. “You missed!”

The behemoth groaned, and James watched out of the corner of his eye the arm swing again. He tensed, then ducked, feeling the rush of air over his head as the arm missed. The behemoth stumbled, and James skipped back, just barely avoiding a second arm’s strike. He gripped his sword, continuing moving back as the behemoth started to rush…

He saw the others move in, fill in behind the giant to strike at its legs. But James could do little but run back, trusting that the way behind him was still clear…

With unexpected speed one of the behemoth’s arms came falling from the sky, swinging over the creature’s head in a wild arc. James shouted, dove to the side, rolling to crouch on his knees as the behemoth slammed its fist to the ground where he had been standing.

James swallowed the fear in his throat, heart pounding in his ears. The behemoth roared, robbed of its victim.

Ice once from fell from the sky, and the giant’s fist fused to the stones. With a silent thanks toward Solas and his magic, James rose to his feet and swung his sword, hacking at the behemoth’s wrist with one, two, three crushing blows…

The creature’s arm separated from its body, and the behemoth, which had been struggling to pull its arm free while Cullen and Cassandra and Nassella hacked at its legs, stumbled, its body snapping back as it found itself suddenly free from the ice. With a crash that shook James to the teeth the behemoth fell to the ground. It thrashed its remaining limbs as it attempted to roll and find a way back to its feet, but the creature was top heavy, and James knew they had it as Solas froze its other fist to the ground, and the others with blades began to hack at any exposed part of its body.

James joined the fray, and when the behemoth finally stilled, James stumbled back, blinking the sting of the rancid red Templar’s body from his eyes.

“Fuck that’s strong,” he said, his skin starting to crawl.

Nassella led them to the temple’s entrance, smoke pouring through the opening, then winced. “It’s just going to get stronger,” she said. “But we need to search what we can.”

“We can take it,” James said.

“Yes, we must,” Cullen agreed, leading the way into the temple.

James followed, eyes adjusting to the dimmer interior, flames licking up any piece of available fuel, shining off the surface of large red lyrium crystals scattered all through the temple.

James gagged on the smell, slowing slightly as he moved deeper, his entire body jumping and crawling the nearer he got to the crimson crystals.

And he started to hear singing.

 

* * *

 

The lyrium was singing.

There was always a song, soft and sweet, from a vile of Templar’s lyrium. It soothed, encouraged the Templar to swallow the dose, promising strength and calm and warm.

But this… this song was different. Twisted, dark. It was not soft, only growing louder in Cullen’s ears with every step he took toward the red lyrium crystals, every step deeper into that infested temple. It was anything but comforting, and Cullen felt his stomach twisting, his skin crawling at the malicious quality of the tune.

And it wasn’t just that he could hear the lyrium. The moment Cullen entered that temple he felt it, felt the pull in his body toward the crystals, toward the red, a longing deep inside that left his throat dry, craving the feel of cool, sweet lyrium on his tongue, running down his throat. And with each moment he did not have it, his head ached more, filled with a haze that he could not shake.

He was trembling by the time they reached the back of the temple, knowing he had been nearly useless as they cleared out the last remaining red Templars. It was a small grace that the others did not seem as affected as Cullen, though he noticed that James was not as focused, not as efficiently direct as he had been outside. Cullen had not seen James fight in months, and he had been impressed with how the man’s skill had progressed. But that had taken a step back once they entered the temple, and by the way James rubbed at his head, glared at the red lyrium, Cullen suspected James was nearly as negatively affected as him.

They needed to move quickly, get out of that temple, before Cullen went mad.

“Samson must have ordered his Templar’s to sack his headquarters,” Cassandra said, turning in a small circle as she took in the burning temple around them. “So we could gain nothing.”

“He ran. Fenedhis!” Nassella yelled, slamming her knives into their sheaths. “I thought we would have him!”

“We still dealt him a blow,” Cullen managed to say, working to smooth his expression, keep the frown that was surely furrowing his brow from becoming too obvious. He had not felt such pain in months, but he could handle it, just as he had handled it before.

“Hey, there’s someone over here,” James called, wincing and rubbing at his temple. Cullen followed Nassella around a fallen table, and found himself confronted with a face from his past.

Maddox, the mage who had asked Samson to smuggle love letters to his sweetheart. The mage had been made Tranquil when they were discovered, and Samson had been expelled from the Order.

Cullen wondered how different the world would be, if Meredith’s policies had not been so harsh. Yes, she had been attempting to keep people safe, but for this to be the result of a few passed love letters…

“Hello Inquisitor,” Maddox said in that hollow, monotone way Tranquil spoke.

Nassella paused. “You know me?”

Maddox nodded, slowly. “Samson has been troubled by your pursuit. He knew you were coming.”

Cullen knelt, watching the Tranquil as he stared at Nassella with glazed eyes. Maddox didn’t look injured, but he did nothing but sit against the wall. “It’s Maddox, Samson’s Tranquil,” Cullen said, Maddox’s gaze shifting toward him. “Something’s wrong,” Cullen added, troubled by the lethargy of the Tranquil’s movements. “We should send for the healers—“

“That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen,” Maddox said in his monotone. Cullen winced at the use of his former title. “I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won’t be long now.” Cullen frowned. Blightcamp… he would be dead in moments.

Nassella crouched by Samson’s side. “We wouldn’t have hurt you,” she said quietly.

“I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

Cullen couldn’t tell if it was more than the red lyrium, but he felt sick, thinking of Maddox, of anyone, throwing away their life for Samson, for this madman who did the bidding of Corypheus, convinced that he was helping to make the world something better by corrupting his former Order with red Lyrium. Cullen had wondered the entire fight if he had known those he was cutting down once, if the faces behind the red Lyrium were one’s he had known, called friends. There had been some, in Haven, that Cullen thought he recognized. Now, he almost saw it as a relief when the Templars were morphed beyond recognition.

“You threw your lives away? For Samson? Why?” Cullen asked.

Maddox blinked, closed his eyes. “Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again. I… wanted to help...”

Maddox’s eyes did not reopen. Cullen sighed and shook his head. It was a waste, to die for Samson.

It had been a waste to make Maddox Tranquil at all. He had been harmless, writing his notes to his love. And Samson, for all his current monstrosity, had been kind once, had attempted to help two mages forbidden to love. It was more than Cullen had once been willing to do, and Samson had been punished for it. Even now, with all Samson had done, he had helped Maddox. Tranquil in general had not fared well when the Circles fell. Cullen could understand how Maddox saw Samson’s kindness as a mercy.

“We can’t leave Maddox here,” Nassella said softly, standing. “He should be laid to rest properly.”

“I’ll have someone take care of it. If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less,” Cullen said.

Then he turned to the burning temple around them. “We should check the camp. Maddox may have missed something.”

Samson may have escaped, and Maddox was dead, but they could still come away with something, Cullen thought as he moved to sift through anything left unburnt, a migraine roaring to life behind his eyes. They had to find _something_ that could be used against Samson, to bring Corypheus’s general to heal, otherwise this entire endeavor, this craving and longing he now felt for lyrium, stronger than it had been in months, would be for nothing. And Cullen couldn’t accept that they had failed in this, that they would really leave with no further idea about how to defeat Samson than they had when they arrived.

 

* * *

 

Naomi gritted her teeth and pushed, her feet sliding across the ground as she attempted to knock Bull even slightly off balance. She grunted, pulled back her shield and slammed it against Bull’s, feeling him yield slightly, only to hold his position even stronger than before.

Finally Naomi pulled back, panting. “I don’t even know why I try,” she said, dropping the shield and resting her hands behind her head so she could breathe more deeply. “You’re so much stronger than me.”

“You’re not so bad,” Bull said with a grin, “for someone who’s spent most of her life behind a desk.”

“I wasn’t inside all the time. I had to get out and walk around to find the plants I studied.”

Bull shook his head. “Still not seeing how that would build a lot of muscle. Last I checked, plants don’t move.”

Naomi lowered her arms, starting to shiver slightly in the chill air. “Yeah, you’re not wrong about that.” She stretched her arms. “I can tell I’ve gotten stronger living here though,” she added. “At least compared to what I was.”

Bull slapped her on the shoulder, then beckoned Krem, who had been sitting along the fence of the training ring, over to them. “I’m not really the best comparison,” he said, moving aside so Krem could take his place. “And fighting isn’t all about strength.”

Naomi nodded, eyeing Krem as he took a fighting stance. It was a good thing fighting wasn’t always about strength, otherwise she would never have a hope of defending herself. “I’m going to try to disarm you twice,” she told Krem. “Then we can call it a day.”

She had already gotten her ass handed to her before Bull started working on her strength, trying to improve her hand to hand combat with Krem. But as painful as it was, her sides and arms surely covered in bruises, Naomi knew she was better than she had been a week earlier, when she first asked Bull for help improving her fighting.

“If I even let you get two,” Krem said with a grin.

Naomi smiled back, stretching out her arms. Disarming weapons was actually one thing she had started to have some confidence in. Cole had been helping her in the Fade for the past week, and since she didn’t get tired in the Fade, she had spent hours developing her skills. However, she had spent less time translating those tactics learned in dreams to her actual body. It was the one thing she was nervous about.

But that’s what practice was for.

Her arms covered in thick wool and leather braces, Naomi caught the first swing of Krem’s sword on her forearm, his blade sliding across the covered skin until she could grasp it in her fingers. In the same instant her other hand shot out to grab the pommel of his sword below his hand. Then Naomi twisted, hard.

Just like when practicing with Cole, Naomi felt Krem give, felt control of the sword switch from his hands to hers. She tugged, stepped back, swinging the sword until it was pointed toward Krem. His brown eyes narrowed.

“Hey!”

Bull laughed from where he was leaning against the fence. “Just be glad she didn’t kick you in the shins!”

Krem held out a hand, shooting a glare toward Bull as Naomi returned his sword. “Thanks Chief, that makes me feel _so_ much better.”

Naomi took another step back, watching Krem as he began circling. “That was probably just luck,” she offered, surprised herself that the move had worked as well as it had.

“No, you got me fair and square,” Krem said, back to grinning. “Let’s just see if you can do it again.”

She couldn’t, and Naomi found herself scrambling away from Krem as he kept control of his sword through her next attempt to disarm him, wildly swinging the blade through the air as her hands slipped off the blade. Even knowing her skin would not be cut even if the blade was real, Naomi had no desire to be smacked with the heavy iron without her controlling the blow, so she put distance between herself and Krem, regrouping while he returned to circling.

He rushed and Naomi dodged, catching another blow with her arm, twisting her arm along the blade in an attempt to grasp it once more in her hands. But Krem slipped it through her grasp, flicking the blade and catching her in the side.

Naomi hissed at the pain, backing away lightly on her feet, watching Krem for his next attack. Her ribs ached, but it was just a bruise, nothing to stop over.

“Watch his feet!” Bull called from the sidelines.

“Whose side are you on Chief?” Krem called over his shoulder.

“Not yours!” came the reply.

Krem rolled his eyes, though he also smirked, then lunged again. Naomi took a step back, and following Bull’s instruction, watched Krem’s feet, seeing the moment before his upper body moved when he shifted toward the right. Naomi responded, moved in the opposite direction, easily dodging the swing of Krem’s sword, and saw her opening as he tried to compensate for the lack of contact.

She grabbed the blade with her right hand, tugging it in her direction, and with her left, she slammed her fist into Krem’s unprotected wrist.

She was sure her tactic wouldn’t have worked had he been wearing his armor, and even with his exposed wrists, Krem didn’t quite let go of the sword, so when Naomi tried to tug it into her control, Krem tugged back, so hard that he ended up pulling both of them to the ground.

Naomi blinked, cold seeping through her clothing from the hard ground beneath her back, breathing heavily from the exertion of the match. She turned her head toward Krem, the man lying just a foot away, also staring toward the sky. Naomi flexed her fingers, and realized his sword was clutched in her hand.

Naomi raised the sword above their bodies, the handle reaching toward the sky. “That’s two,” she said.

Krem stared at the blade, then chuckled. “You just had to embarrass me in front of the Chief.”

A shadow fell over them, and Naomi looked back up to see Bull hovering over them and extending his hands. “You went easy on her and you know it,” the Qunari told Krem as he hauled them to their feet.

Krem’s face was red. “I wasn’t holding back that much,” he told Naomi, hands out once more for his sword. “Especially that last time, and you nearly had me.”

Naomi gave Krem his sword back, a little disappointed to find Krem had not thrown everything he had toward her, that she had only managed to hold him off because he had held back himself. But she tried to chase the disappointment away. Learning to fight was a process, and she was much further along than she had been even a year before. And she had learned enough to fend off demons, and disarm people who knew what she was going to throw at them. She had to remember those victories.

Naomi leaned against the fence next to Krem, Bull looming on the mercenary’s other side, and drank from a canteen of water, recovering from the training. Now that she had stopped moving, Naomi realized how bone-weary she was, and doubted she would be able to stay awake when she went to the undercroft after dinner. It might be better to go to bed early, nurse her bruises and sore muscles with a bath.

A flicker of movement on her other side caught Naomi’s eye, and for a moment she thought it was Cole appearing, sitting on the fence. But when she turned to greet the spirit, it was not Cole she found by her side, but a blonde man with shoulder-length hair leaning against the fence from the other side.

He smiled and inclined his head. “Bonjour,” he said, standing a little straighter.

Naomi felt her lips flicker up in a small smile back. “Hello,” she responded, taking in more of the man’s features. He had blue eyes, she noted, staring intently into hers, and a kind, very handsome face…

She ran her hand over her hair, smoothing down a few loose hairs, and wondered how red her face was.

“You use an interesting technique when fighting,” the man continued, leaning slightly toward her. He had to be Orlesian, Naomi realized, with that accent. She felt her body lean slightly back.

“I… yes,” Naomi admitted, glancing past his head to… anything beyond. “I don’t like using weapons.”

The man smiled, drawing Naomi’s eyes back. “You will need incredible armor to fight in such a way facing an opponent with real blades.”

_Yeah… my skin…_

But Naomi couldn’t tell this stranger that. “I already do,” she said instead. “But I can use a bow, and duel blades to an extent.”

“Perhaps I could see you use them sometime,” the man said, still smiling, still staring into her eyes.

Naomi didn’t know what to say, found her words scattering at the thought of saying anything else to this man.

“We’ll be here tomorrow,” Bull offered before she could gather a response. Naomi glanced over her shoulder to see both Krem and Bull watching her talk to this man. Bull winked at her, then nodded to the blonde man behind her. “Good to see you again Michel.”

“You as well Iron Bull. I trust your journey from Emprise du Lion was uneventful,” the man, Michel, said.

Bull shrugged. “It was cold.”

“Yes, cold,” Michel agreed. Naomi looked back to the man, finding his eyes still on her. “Please excuse me, mademoiselle, for not introducing myself sooner. I am Michel de Chevin, at your service,” he said, bowing his head slightly toward her. He looked back up. “Might I learn your name?”

“Um… I’m Naomi,” she said. Michel waited, and Naomi swallowed, sticking her hand out toward the man with a smile. “Naomi Westerkamp.”

Michel took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he cradled it gently, and leaned down to place a kiss over the glove. Stunned, Naomi stared at her hand, pulling it back to her side once Michel was finished. “A pleasure,” the man said softly, smiling and staring at her… “After the frigid journey here, your smile is welcome warmth.”

“Uh… nice to meet you too,” Naomi managed to say, voice catching slightly. She swallowed, then looked back at Bull, who was smiling and looking far too pleased…

“If you are finished here,” Michel said, drawing Naomi’s eyes back to him. “Perhaps I could accompany you to your next destination.”

He was flirting, Naomi realized, asking her on a… date of sorts. She was stunned by the revelation, and her mind once more scattered. Surely this man wasn’t flirting…

“Mademoiselle?”

“No,” Naomi finally sputtered, shaking her head slightly. She took a small step back. “I can’t right now…”

“Tomorrow, then,” Michel said, undeterred. “We could walk the battlements…”

Naomi shook her head more firmly. “No, I mean never,” she repeated. Michel’s smile fell slightly, and Naomi panicked, thinking she had hurt his feelings. “It’s just… I’m taken,” she explained, twisting the fabric of her breeches between nervous fingers, grateful and horrified at the same time that Krem and Bull were standing right behind her. “I can’t because I’m seeing someone.”

Michel’s smile had returned, and he inclined his head. “Of course. I should have known a woman as beautiful as you would not be available. My loss, it would seem.”

“Um… thank you,” Naomi said, grateful when Michel took a small step back. “And I’m… sorry.”

But she wasn’t. She was just glad she had Cullen as an excuse for letting down this man more easily.

“There is no need to apologize,” Michel said graciously. “I was simply inspecting the training facilities here in Skyhold, and when I happened across your match, I knew I needed to meet you. I will leave you to your friends.” He took another step back, then paused. “Though I may stop by tomorrow, to see you work with blades.”

He walked away and Naomi crossed her arms, leaning back against the fence and staring straight ahead.

Flirting… that handsome man had been flirting…

“That was… weird,” she mumbled, half to herself.

“You know he was flirting, right?” Bull asked.

Naomi glared up at the Qunari. “Yes, Bull, I realized that.”

Bull shrugged. “Hey, I just wanted to be sure, considering how long it took you to get with Cullen.”

Naomi looked back across the training yard, a pair of young soldiers taking over the ring. “Well Cullen never kissed my hand… or asked me to go on walks. I had to make the first move.”

Krem chuckled. “Good thing the Commander’s not here. He probably wouldn’t have been too pleased to see some other man try to move in on you.”

Naomi held herself closer. “I wanted to train so I could fight off unwanted attention. I didn’t think I would _draw_ more attention because of it…”

“What unwanted attention?” Bull asked, turning so he could better look at Naomi. “Did something happen? Is that why you suddenly wanted to train again?”

Naomi cursed herself. She hadn’t wanted anyone else to know about Alec. “It’s nothing Bull, I’m fine.”

Bull narrowed his eye, but it was a voice from behind Naomi that spoke. “She thought she would be safe. He was behind bars, body broken, but his words were still sharp. You wanted to help, but he still wants to hurt.”

Naomi turned, finding Cole sitting on the fence, right where she had thought she’d seen him earlier. “Cole!” she hissed in warning.

“Did you go to see that bastard Templar again?” Bull asked. Naomi turned back to the Qunari, crossing her arms just as his were crossed.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, wishing Bull didn’t sound so disappointed. “And nothing happened,” she continued. “I was just… reminded that I’m not… necessarily safe, even in Skyhold. So I wanted to make sure I don’t lose everything I’ve been learning over the last year.”

Bull shook his head. “You could have asked me to go with you. Or Krem.”

Naomi looked away. It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask someone like Bull to come along. “I figured I could handle it on my own,” she said quietly. She shifted slightly on her feet. “But… you’re right. I probably should have had someone with me.”

“It’s all right Chief,” Krem said, easing the tension. “No harm came of it. And we’ll make sure Naomi’s ready to take on any bastard who tries anything again.”

“Damn right we will,” Bull said gruffly, leaning back against the fence.

Naomi sighed, bringing the canteen she was still holding to her lips, taking a long drink of water. She appreciated how willing Bull and Krem were to help her, to defend her. But it still made her uncomfortable, knowing she needed that protection at all…

They passed a moment in silence, and Naomi was nearly ready to make her way back to her chambers when Dorian passed through the small door that led to a secluded courtyard where the mages of the Inquisition practiced their more advanced and dangerous spells.

“Ah!” he exclaimed as he approached their group, spreading his arms wide. “What a sight for sore eyes!” He leaned against the fence next to Naomi and groaned. “And sore arms, and legs, and buttocks…”

“I thought you said you’d recovered from last night,” Bull threw over Krem’s head. Naomi grinned while Dorian groaned again.

“I haven’t,” Dorian grumbled. “And going through my entire repertoire of spells helped nothing. I’m entirely drained of mana. I need to find a lyrium potion lest I want to wait until the morning before my reserves are restored.”

Naomi hummed in sympathy, thinking she needed to crawl into bed soon as well, then gasped, pulling the glove from her right hand. “Here,” she told Dorian, extending the ring perched on her finger toward the mage. “Take some from this.”

Dorian took her hand and ran an exposed finger over the green gem. “My, my, there is quite a supply of mana already here.”

“It’s been a few weeks now,” Naomi replied as Dorian began drawing mana from the ring. She felt the pull, the shift in the normal flow of mana through her own body change as he did, the action of draining mana from the ring pulling just that much more from her own body, leaving her even more tired than she had been before. But once Dorian stopped, sighing in relief, her body compensated, pulled from the Fade until she was restored to her normal balance.

“Thank you,” Dorian said, stretching his arms in front of him. “I was not fancying the search for a lyrium potion after that session.” Then he reached once more for her hand, bringing the ring closer to his face. “There is a remarkable store of mana in this ring,” he mused, poking once more at the gem. “Far more than a single mage could ever hope to contain within their body at one time.” He turned it around her finger. “A shame you cannot access the energy.”

“I’m not sure I would know what to do with it if I could,” Naomi said. “I haven’t been trained or anything.”

“That could be remedied,” Dorian mused. “You truly feel nothing?”

“Well… I feel a little bit, as the mana moves from the amulet to the ring. And I _definitely_ feel it without the ring. Mostly, though, there’s nothing.”

“A shame,” Dorian repeated, then dropped her arm. “That ring would certainly be useful on the battlefield, instead of lugging lyrium potions around.”

Naomi replaced her glove. “I… hadn’t really thought of that.”

“Of course, it would be entirely useless if you couldn’t keep yourself on your feet.”

“Don’t worry,” Krem said, placing his hand on Naomi’s shoulder. “She’ll be able to hold her own once we’re finished with her.”

Naomi appreciated Krem’s optimism, trying to remember the battles she _had_ already fought in, the fact that she had come out of them unscathed. She had to believe she could handle anything she faced in the future, especially if she had help.

“Thanks for the confidence, Krem.”

“So… are you planning on staying out here all night?” Dorian asked, moving away from the fence. “I, for one, am freezing.”

“Drinks on me,” Bull offered, hopping over the fence, Krem following after. Naomi swung her leg over the fence and dropped to the other side.

“I’m going to head inside,” Naomi said, turning down the offer. “I’ve had a few late nights working in the undercroft, so I’m going to catch up on some sleep.”

Bull nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

Naomi nodded. “Same time.”


	102. Falling Apart

Naomi leaned against the battlements, eyes fixed on the bridge crossing the expanse that separated Skyhold from the rest of the valley below, waiting for Nassella to return with Cullen and James. Word had arrived the day before that the Inquisitor was less than a day’s travel away, and Naomi had spent most of the afternoon hopping up to the battlements when she could get a break from the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of the travelers returning.

But it was nearing sunset, and there was still no sign of them. Naomi sighed, shifting her weight on her feet.

“They’ll get here,” Bull rumbled. He’d joined her for this most recent trip to the battlements.

“I know,” Naomi said. “I’m just can’t wait to see everyone. It’s been over two weeks.”

Bull chuckled. “Can’t wait to see everyone, or Cullen?”

Naomi blushed and refused to look at Bull, who was certainly grinning and watching for her reaction. “Everyone, Bull,” she said, shifting her feet again. “Of course everyone.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to see Cullen. I know a bed can get pretty lonely after two weeks.”

Naomi groaned softly, which, when Bull laughed, she realized sounded a bit more sexual than she had intended. But Bull had a point. While she was excited to see Nassella and James, it was Cullen who her mind kept wandering to. Naomi wanted to talk with her friend and see her brother’s face, but she kept thinking about getting Cullen up to their bedroom, where they could kiss and strip out of their clothes and make love until they dropped exhausted into sleep…

Because, if she was being honest… she was _horny._ Her fingers, which had satisfied her well enough for years, just had not been enough recently, and ever since Michel de Chevin had tried flirting with her a few days earlier, her mind had more and more frequently been wandering to Cullen, and everything she wanted to do when he returned. Most of her fantasies were rather tame, largely replaying their previous encounters in her mind, but others ventured into new territory. Like when she had started to daydream while waiting for a potion to distill earlier that day in the undercroft. She’d imagined Cullen coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her body and pushing his hands beneath her clothes, slipping her breeches off of her hips and bending her over the desk, driving into her from behind while he suckled on her neck…

Dagna had interrupted those particular thoughts, much to Naomi’s embarrassment. But she hadn’t quite gotten that daydream out of her mind. Even now, leaning against the battlements with Bull, Naomi started to think once again of Cullen pressed against her ass, grinding into her…

Naomi shook her head, standing up straighter, her sex aching. It was one thing to have those thoughts in the privacy of her own bedroom, but she needed to have better control of herself when standing next to Bull, who had spent the majority of his life as a highly trained spy. For all she knew, he could tell when she was having a sex fantasy by the change in her breathing.

Her eyes caught movement on the bridge, and Naomi leaned forward, squinting her eyes in an attempt to see the figure more clearly. But it was just a single rider, not the group she was expecting, so Naomi leaned back down, sighing once more in disappointment.

“I’m starting to really hate being left behind,” she grumbled.

“You’ve trained enough to probably be useful enough to bring along next time,” Bull offered.

Naomi glanced up at the Qunari. “It’s not that I want to be brought along,” she said softly, looking back over the valley, resting her chin on her arms. “I just wish they didn’t have to go.”

Bull squeezed her shoulder. “Hang in there. Someday this will all be over.”

“I know,” Naomi replied, praying that when it was, everyone she loved would still be alive.

Naomi nearly ran to the gates when she finally caught sight of the group returning, Nassella’s hart a small purple smudge dancing across the bridge below. She bounced slightly on her feet as she waited to for them to enter the courtyard, torn between greeting her brother first, or pulling Cullen into a kiss.

Her choice was decided when James dropped from his saddle first, rubbing the back of his neck. Naomi ran forward, throwing her arms around his waist before he could stop her.

“Hey Naomi,” he said wearily, half-heartedly throwing his arms around her shoulders.

Then he pulled back, took Echo’s reins, and walked toward the stables.

Naomi figured she should stop expecting James to respond with excitement after returning, but it was still a little disappointing whenever he didn’t.

At least he was safe. In the end, that was what she cared about most.

And it just meant she could get to Cullen faster.

Naomi was waiting when Cullen climbed down from Obsidian, her arms around his neck before he could entirely turn around. “Welcome back!” she said, burying her head in his neck, breathing in the scent of his sweat. “I missed you.”

Cullen sighed and slipped his hands around her waist. “Hello love, it’s good to see you.” He breathed in deeply. “I missed you too.”

Naomi pulled back so she could look at his face, smiling at the sight of his golden eyes and curly hair and the scar cutting through his upper lip…

She leaned in to place a kiss on those lips, breathing in more of his scent. Cullen gripped her tighter, and gently kissed her back, tugging slightly on her lips when he pulled back.

Naomi reached to stroke his face. His beard had filled in over the last two weeks, and he looked tired, but all of that was to be expected after the journey he had just been on. “How did it go?” she asked, running her thumb along his jaw. “I know… I know everything with Blackwall is messed up, but what about finding Samson?”

Cullen closed his eyes, then slowly pushed her away from his body. “It did not go well,” he said. “We did not find him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Naomi replied. “Is there… anything I can do? You seem upset—”

“No, no,” Cullen said gruffly, opening his eyes and stepping even further away, looking around until he found a stablehand to pass Obsidian’s reigns to. “I will handle it.”

He walked away, and Naomi was left standing alone, disappointed once again at the tepid reception she had received. She understood Cullen was surely tired, but she had expected… more from him, after so long.

“Don’t feel bad,” Nassella said, slipping in front of Naomi. Naomi looked down and smiled at her friend.

“I don’t feel… bad,” she told the elf. “You’ve had a long journey, that’s all.”

Nassella sighed. “Neither of them have really been… themselves, since we found Samson’s headquarters. There was a lot of red lyrium. We all had to recover, but Solas, James, and Cullen took it the worst. Solas was fine by that night, but James and Cullen…” She shook her head. “I don’t think either of them have been sleeping very well, and neither would accept any help.”

“Oh,” Naomi said, stomach twisting a little. “Lyrium?”

“Yeah, it was… bad,” Nassella said, rubbing her temple. “Maybe you could talk to them?  Find out what they need?”

“Of course,” Naomi said, mind already listing what symptoms were likely hurting Cullen the most, and knowing she would need to make a trip down to the undercroft to gather some potions and herbs for a tea…

Slim arms slipped around her waist, and Naomi withdrew from her thoughts to find Nassella giving her hug. She embraced the elf back, smiling the longer it went on. “I’m glad you’re back,” she told her friend.

Nassella squeezed tighter. “Me too. This trip was… hard, to say the least.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Nassella said, pulling out of the hug. “You worry about your brother and Cullen. I’ll worry about… everything else.”

“Ok,” Naomi said as Nassella walked away, handing Vir’nehn to a stablehand and walking toward Skyhold’s keep.

Alone again, Naomi wished once more that everyone she loved didn’t have to leave for weeks on end to fight. They just seemed to come back more stressed every time, in more pain. One of these days it would catch up to one of them… and they wouldn’t come back.

That thought weighing down her mind, Naomi jogged toward the stables, hoping to catch James before he left. Knowing him, if she didn’t talk to him now, he would disappear to the tavern, or to Mayra’s bedroom, as soon as he passed Echo off, and she wanted to make sure he was all right before that.

Her brother was actually taking the time to remove the saddle from Echo’s back. Naomi stepped up to help him.

“So… how are you feeling?” she asked as she unbuckled a saddlebag from the horse’s back. James loosened the strap circling Echo’s belly.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled as he lifted the saddle off and deposited it on the floor.

Naomi sighed. “Ness told me about the red lyrium, James. She says you haven’t been yourself since you were around it. I want to help. So I can get you tea if you’re in pain…”

“It’s not the red lyrium,” James said as he removed the saddle blanket. “Yeah, it sucked at first, and that song…” he shook his head. “But the headache was gone by the next day. I’m fine.”

Naomi watched her brother. She supposed he didn’t look like he was in pain, but he certainly didn’t look happy, and she believed Nassella when the elf said James had been acting strange.

“Well Ness said something is bothering you James, and I believe her. You definitely look tired… You should get some rest. I just read about an herb that can help you sleep…”

“Naomi, I’m fine!” James yelled, glaring at her while he picked up his bags. “And Ness doesn’t know anything about me,” he added more quietly.

Naomi crossed her arms. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure something is bothering you.” She took a step closer. “Ness knows you James, so if she says something’s wrong…”

“It’s Ness!” James yelled again, moving away from her. “I’m mad at Ness, ok?”

Naomi frowned, then quickly followed after James, weaving around the other horses being led into the stables. “James!” she called, reaching for his arm. She grabbed him and pulled him back, into an empty stall. “Why are you mad?” she asked her brother. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Forget I said anything…”

“No,” Naomi said, still clutching his arm. “Tell me what happened…”

And then she realized what had happened.

The one thing that had changed.

Nassella and Solas had started having sex.

Naomi had suspected once that he was interested in Nassella, but then he had started sleeping with Mayra. And Nassella had been torn at one point, but she had chosen Solas…

But it _did_ bother James. He was with Mayra, but he was upset because Nassella had finally started sleeping with Solas.

But James had never _told_ Nassella how he felt. He had no right to be angry with her.

Naomi groaned inwardly. This was exactly the sort of thing she would rather avoid. But if her brother was hurting…

“James… just tell me. If it’s… if it’s her and Solas—”

James wrenched his arm free. “What? No! It’s not that! I just… think they… they shouldn’t have sex. In their tent…” He trailed off, eyes wide, then leaned against a wall and groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. “Shit,” he muttered.

Naomi leaned against the wall as well, staring at the ceiling while she tried to decide what to say. Everything boiled down to miscommunication, and she _knew_ that if James just talked to Nassella, they might be able to resolve whatever feelings they had…

Or not. But this… uncertainty couldn’t be good for James. He couldn’t just pine after the other woman and wallow in jealousy.

“James… you should talk to her,” Naomi said quietly. “Let her know how you feel…”

“No!” James exclaimed, dropping his hand. Naomi turned to find him glaring at her. “There’s nothing to tell her. I just don’t… like seeing or… or hearing things…”

“Talk to her James,” Naomi insisted. “You might be surprised.” Nassella had wanted him, once, and those feelings may not be entirely gone. Just because she was with Solas didn’t mean she couldn’t change her mind, if only she knew James was interested as well…

James pushed off the wall and stood in front of her, glaring. “Drop it Naomi,” he warned. “There is _nothing_ to tell Ness, so just… stay out of if.”

“But—“

“Stay. Out. Of. It,” James repeated, leaning closer. Naomi thought his eyes were wet. “I don’t need or want your help. I’m fine. So leave me alone.”

“James—“

“Promise you won’t say anything,” James said. Naomi chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Promise me!” he repeated, taking another step forward. “I can take care of myself Naomi.”

Naomi didn’t want to do it. She wanted to help her brother, and thought Nassella deserved to know the truth, which meant talking. But she didn’t want to meddle either, or go against her brother’s wishes…

“Fuck Naomi, promise you’ll keep this to yourself! I don’t want to get between her and Solas!”

She found herself nodding, eyes pricking with tears. Her brother was in pain and there was nothing she could do to help, except what he wanted. “Fine,” she whispered. “I won’t say anything.”

 

\-----

 

Naomi pushed on the door into the war room, balancing a number of potions and a mug of tea in one hand. Once the latch was loose, she used her hip to open the door enough to slip through. The door clanged shut behind her, the sound of wood on stone echoing through the nearly empty room.

Cullen was standing in the center of the room, leaning over the slice of a giant tree that served as the war table, a single candle illuminating the map spread across its surface. Naomi saw him flinch as the door closed, and knew he must be suffering from a migraine, and glad she had taken the time to prepare the potions and tea that might help him before seeking him out.

She quietly crossed the room, placing the mug of tea on the table near his hand. “Hey Cullen,” she said quietly. “Nassella told me about the red lyrium at the temple… I brought some things to make you feel better.”

Cullen looked up from the map to meet her gaze, and Naomi thought he looked even more drawn and weary in the light of that single candle than he had in the courtyard below. Then he looked at the tea and lifted the mug to his lips, taking a couple of hesitant sips before setting it back down with a sigh. “Thank you, Naomi,” he murmured. “I have… not been feeling well these past few days.”

Naomi put down her potions and reached for his hand, damp and shaking slightly between her fingers. “What’s wrong? Is it headaches? Are your joints hurting? You seem a little feverish…”

“It’s everything,” Cullen whispered, clutching her hand, staring at the table. “Headaches, pain throughout my entire body, swinging between heat and cold, sweating, and the nightmares…” She could see his body shudder, not just feel it in his grip. “I have barely slept in days, and I... sometimes see the images even when I’m awake…”

Naomi swallowed, staring at Cullen with fear and dread pooling in her stomach. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t get worse after all this time, after everything he had already endured and managed to come through…

She reached for a potion and pressed it into Cullen’s hand. “Here, this has helped with the fever and pain before, and I have another for the headaches. And the tea should just help with everything in general, and… and the nightmares are usually helped by all of this too...” She was uncorking a second potion, ready to pass to Cullen once he drank the first one, when he grabbed her hands, stilling her work and drawing them between his own.

“Naomi, slow down, it will be fine,” he said softly. Naomi looked into his eyes and blinked away a few tears that had gathered in her own. He reached to stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t say more to you earlier. I did not want my soldiers to see me... appear weak. I’ve managed to hide the worst for so long, and now…” he sighed, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Naomi told him, still clutching one of his hands. “And I’ll help with anything to make you feel better.”

“I know,” Cullen whispered. “I know.”

He kissed her then, with little warning, leaning over and pulling her face into his, taking her lips more fully, rougher than he had in the courtyard. Naomi opened to him with a sigh, moving her body closer so she could press as much of herself against him as possible, deeply unsatisfied that he was still wearing armor. He probed his way into her mouth with his tongue, lapping and tasting her with increasingly forceful and desperate strokes, his hands clutching and kneading at her body until she felt weak.

But he was also shaking, and his kiss was clumsy, and when it verged on uncomfortable, Naomi pulled back.

Cullen leaned his forehead against hers, breathing deeper than he needed to, even after the kiss, and Naomi knew there would be no sex that night. Even if the potions took away his pain immediately, he needed to sleep more than anything. Her horniness was far less important than his health.

“Drink the potions and tea,” she said quietly, urging his fingers to release her tunic. “And then you should go to bed—“

Cullen shook his head, stepping back and glancing at the map. “I can’t sleep yet. I need to catch up on and solidify the plans that have been made. It is clear that Corypheus’s forces, including Samson, have retreated to the Arbor Wilds. This is our chance to end this threat, once and for all. There can be no mistakes or oversights…”

He was back to leaning over the war table, the potions and tea forgotten. But if he was in as much pain as he claimed, Naomi couldn’t imagine he could work efficiently for long. “Cullen, you need rest. The work will be here tomorrow—“

“Enough Naomi!” he said loudly, wincing at the volume in his own voice. His next words were quieter. “We are leaving in just over a week to join the bulk of our forces in Orlais. I cannot afford to lose time for planning. Especially since our attempt to end Samson was a complete disaster.”

No one wanted her help. Nassella had kept her own worries to herself so Naomi could focus on her brother and Cullen, then James had refused to listen to her advice about Nassella, and now Cullen was trying to push her away as well, focus on his work to the detriment of his health…

But Naomi would not have it, could not let Cullen continue like this. Alec had refused even Emory’s attempts to give him a potion, and from what Emory had told her, Alec was just continuing to deteriorate. She would not let Cullen turn her away.

“Cullen,” she said sternly, grabbing his hand and pulling until he turned toward her. “I know there’s a lot to do, but _none_ of it can be done well if you are hurting. Please, take at least _one_ night to recover. The army has already travelled across Orlais once before. Surely any preparations will go more smoothly this time around. I know Dennet at least has been less stressed, preparing us to bring the horses.” She pulled on him again when he started to look away. “Please Cullen, for me, drink the potions and go to bed. No one will be upset that you don’t work for the rest of the night.”

He looked back to the map, and Naomi thought he was going to ignore her. But then he sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “You’re right,” he said, picking up one of the potions. He drank it quickly, followed by the second, then picked up the mug of tea. “I’m sorry Naomi, I’ve felt… out of sorts for days…”

Naomi stepped forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “I know, it’s fine,” she said. “I just want you to feel better, and so would everyone else.”

“Just give me a few moments,” Cullen said, hugging her gently back. “I promise, I will come to bed soon.”

 

* * *

 

James sat at the bar in the tavern, listen to Maryden’s most recent song, some ditty that, when James actually listened to the lyrics, he realized was about Sera. He might have found the song amusing if he wasn’t in such a terrible mood.

He couldn’t believe he had let slip to Naomi how he felt about Solas and Nassella sleeping together. He had managed to keep himself together the entire two weeks prior, when he was traveling with the two elves, seeing and hearing them having sex in their tent…

And it had just taken a few words from his nosy sister for him to slip up.

But even though he was frustrated, James knew he couldn’t really blame Naomi. He hadn’t been entirely honest, and though the singing and the headache the red lyrium had given him at that temple had faded, he was still having nightmares and difficulty sleeping. He was exhausted, and more easily irritated because of it.

And there had been a lot to irritate him over the last couple of weeks…

Like the time Nassella was spending with Solas, the w _ay_ she was spending her time, and the fact that she didn’t seem too keen on hiding her activities from the rest of the group.

And it irritated him, more than anything, that she still touched him, and laughed with him, smiled at him…

It was ridiculous. He told himself that every time his anger flared. But he could not keep the feelings of hurt and longing and anger from surfacing in the first place. All he could do was attempt to manage his response.

He had snapped with Naomi. But she was his sister… surely she would do what he asked and keep it to herself.

 _I should talk to her again,_ James thought as he signaled Cabot for another drink. _I need to make sure she’ll keep her mouth shut…_

Something thumped James square in the back, and he turned around with a curse, swinging his arm up slightly in an attempt to retaliate against whoever had hit him. But his fist contacted nothing, and he lurched forward slightly, realizing as he did that he had not hit his attacker because his attacker was a short woman, looking at him with wide, blue eyes.

Mayra.

“Fuck Mayra,” James said, rubbing at his temples. “You can’t just _hit_ me like that.”

Mayra pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring. “Of course you’re fucking _here_ ,” she seethed. “Of course you didn’t try to find _me_ when you finally got back.”

James started to burn. He’d done it again, and when Mayra turned and walked away, he wasn’t surprised.

But he still chased her, still followed her out into the cold night air, and tried to mend what he had broken.

“Mayra, I’m sorry,” he told her, knowing he had no right to be forgiven, but still compelled to try. “I would have—“

“Just stop, James,” Mayra said, coming to an abrupt halt. She turned toward him, arms cross, wisps of dark hair flying over her face, eyes narrowed as she glared. “I am done,” she said forcefully. “I am done dealing with your shit. You did it again. You left without saying goodbye for _two weeks_ —“

James scowled. “It’s my _job_ Mayra. You can’t get angry at me for leaving to fight—“

“You didn’t have to go!” Mayra yelled, drawing the eyes of a small group of elves passing a few feet away. James glared at the onlookers until they hurried on. “The Inquisitor has plenty of others she could ask to go along. You s _aid_ you were going to be around, and then you _left._ ”

“It was important!” James yelled back. He would not be told it was wrong to fight. “I had to go after Blackwall. And Nassella wanted me there!”

Mayra’s frown deepened at the mention of Nassella’s name. She looked away. “Andraste’s mercy… It wasn’t just that you left,” she said more quietly, though anger simmered just beneath her words. “It’s that you left without saying goodbye, and then when you returned, you didn’t even think to come see me. You just went to the tavern to get drunk.” She looked back toward the tavern and rubbed her arms. “I am through doing this with you.”

James felt it, the end of his relationship with Mayra drawing near, and even though he didn’t love her, even though he had been an ass, he balked at the realization. He couldn’t lose Mayra.

“You made it clear you didn’t want anything serious,” James argued. “You just wanted to have sex, so that’s what we’ve been doing. And you _know_ I have to leave to fight. It’s always been like that. You can’t get angry at me for it, even if I don’t have the time to say goodbye when we have to leave at the last minute. And I _would_ have found you tonight Mayra. I just needed some time to relax…”

Mayra was shaking her head, brow furrowed and lips pursed. But she was silent, so James pushed further, stepping closer to her body. “We can… we can still have sex when I’m around. We just won’t… won’t expect anything more…” He was grasping, James knew, grasping for some small thread that might keep her in his life in some way. Sex had always been good, something that actually connected them…

Mayra shook her head harder and stepped back. “No James. I can’t… can’t do that…”

“It’s what you wanted,” James insisted. “From the start you just wanted to have sex. That doesn’t have to stop…”

“I’m pregnant!” Mayra yelled suddenly, arms crossed even more firmly over her chest.

Everything stilled, went silent. James stared at Mayra, for several seconds his mind entirely blank, that single word replaying through his mind.

_Pregnant._

Mayra sniffed, and James realized she was crying.

But then, a moment later, a second thought occurred to James, something Naomi had told him months before.

_We can’t have children here James…_

“That’s not possible,” James croaked, feeling slightly disconnected from his body. “You can’t be pregnant. I can’t have children…”

_Unless Naomi is wrong…_

James thought he was going to be sick. This couldn’t be happening.

“I can’t have a child,” James whispered, unable to focus on anything. He couldn’t be a father…

“Well, you won’t,” Mayra said quietly, holding herself tighter. “It’s not yours.”

James blinked, ran her words through his mind, comprehension dawning slowly. “What do you mean it’s not mine?”

Mayra stared at the ground. “You’re not the only person I’ve slept with—“

“What?” James asked, anger searing through his body, chasing the numb and shock away. “What the fuck do you mean—“

“You were gone!” Mayra yelled. “For weeks! And then you came back from Orlais and left without seeing me, and I… I was lonely! So I slept with a couple people…”

“A couple?!” James asked. He felt like he needed to run, fight, work some of the anger building in his body out… “You had sex with a _couple_ of people?”

“Don’t yell at me!” Mayra cried. “It’s not like you gave me any idea that you actually _cared_ about me. For all I knew you didn’t want to see me anymore. So yeah, I had sex!”

James shook his head and started to walk, pacing back and forth across the ground. If she’d gotten pregnant while he was travelling to Orlais, in Emprise du Lion, and she _knew_ that it wasn’t his, then she had to have known she was pregnant that last time they had sex…

“You knew!” James exclaimed, turning on her. Mayra watched him, tears falling down her cheeks. “That last night we were together, you knew you were pregnant?”

Mayra sniffed. “Yes.”

“And you still had sex with me? What about the father?”

“He’s gone,” she said quietly. “And he doesn’t know.”

James scoffed. “It doesn’t matter! You can’t just have sex with me after that…”

“I can do whatever I want!” Mayra retorted. “And I still thought then that maybe we could work—“

“You thought we could work?” James asked, walking toward her, stopping a couple of feet away. “How could we work if you were pregnant with someone else’s child?”

She bit at her lip and looked away, shifting back and forth on her feet.

“Were you going to say it was _mine?_ ” James asked with sudden realization. “Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus Mayra, that’s so messed up—“

“I liked you!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t want to lose you!”

“Well we’re done,” James said, stepping away from her. He couldn’t look at her any more. “That’s what you wanted so fine, I won’t bother you anymore. I hope you’re happy.”

Mayra’s arms dropped to her side. “This is not my fault James.”

James shook his head. He couldn’t entirely argue. He _had_ been the distant one, leaving and failing to find her once he returned. And he _was_ in love with someone else.

Yet… it hurt, more than he had a right to be hurt, knowing Mayra had not been faithful.

“Well _I_ never slept with anyone else,” James said, and walked away.

He did not return to the tavern. He might end up there later in the night, but first, he needed to work the anger and frustration out of his body.

He was picking a sword from the rack by the training dummies, ignoring the cold nipping at his fingers, when Cole appeared at his side, fidgeting with the sleeves of his ragged tunic.

“Cold and empty and broken, watching him walk away without her. _I was going to tell him. That night, before he left, I was going to say—“_

“Cole!” James yelled, yanking a sword from the rack. It was too light, but he didn’t care. He needed to hit something fast. “Go away! And stay out of people’s heads! It’s not helpful!”

“But—“

“She lied to me Cole!” James said, approaching one of the dummies. “And she cheated. There’s nothing else to say. Now leave me alone, and stay out of my head! I don’t want your help, or whatever you think you’re doing…”

But he was alone, and when James turned back toward the rack, Cole was gone.

James hit the dummy until it was a mess of wood, ripped fabric, and straw on the ground.

Then he sat next to it, exhausted, and buried his head in his arms.

It wasn’t entirely Mayra’s fault. She had strayed because he was distracted: by Nassella, by his desire to help the elf no matter what, even if it meant staying away for weeks at a time, leaving at a moment’s notice. He had never been entirely committed to Mayra to begin with.

Maybe it could have worked, if he had done as Mayra wanted and given himself fully to her when he was around. But he hadn’t, so she had gotten lonely and found companionship elsewhere. He was angry and hurt that she had, but he… could understand why she had done it.

But he could not accept that she had thought of lying to him, of telling him the child was his. That was unforgiveable, twisted and wrong.

He didn’t love her, couldn’t trust her, knew it was better to end things there…

But it still hurt, like a knife through his chest.

He was alone again, and this time, it felt like it would be forever.

 

* * *

 

Nassella lay on her side, watching Solas’s face as he slept next to her in her bed, wondering what he might be doing in the Fade. He had mentioned training with Naomi once, and she tried to imagine what it might be like to dream consciously, and interact with her lover or friend even while she slept.

It would be nice, she decided as she yawned. If she dreamed consciously, she could think even while sleeping, and nights like this one, where she had stayed up until the early hours of the morning trying to decide how to punish Blackwall, _Thom_ , while still showing mercy, would not have to happen. As it was, she was exhausted, but it was too late now to get any sleep.

At least she had come to a decision.

Solas stirred, took a long, deep breath, and Nassella knew he was waking. She propped herself up on her elbow and lowered the blankets so they draped across her waist, leaving her breasts bare so that when Solas finally opened his eyes and turned toward her, her nipples pearling in the chillier air of the room were the first things he saw.

A small smiled curled up his full lips, and he raised a single eyebrow. “You seem eager this morning, vhenan.”

Nassella grinned back, sliding the blanket further down, revealing the slight curve of her hip. Solas’s eyes followed the motion, pupils dilating slightly as he took in her nearly naked body.

“It’s been a few days,” she responded.

Solas chuckled, rising to his knees and prowling toward her, discarding the blankets entirely and exposing his own body, erection tenting his breeches. “Are you disappointed I did not wish to make love while freezing in the Frostbacks?”

Nassella wiggled her hips and raised her hands above her head, stretching her bare body beneath him. “No. I was just thinking we have some days to make up for, that’s all.”

Solas chuckled, and lowered his lips to take hers in a long, slow kiss that eventually turned into him pressing his body against hers, then removing the last of his clothing…

Nassella couldn’t stop smiling when they were finished, savoring the feel of his body still pressed hot and hard against hers. Every time they were together just solidified further in her mind that she had made the right decision, staying with Solas until he was ready to move forward intimately. It had been worth the wait, and it was clear that he was a man she could spend her life with, a man who could keep her interested and happy. Thoughts of James no longer plagued her mind. Not usually.

But she was even surer that Solas was the man for her after they found that elven temple in the woods north of the Waking Sea, clearing out a small force of red Templars from the ruins. Her advisors had hoped that making the temple safe again would improve relations with the Dalish clans along the coast, and Nassella had been deeply satisfied to take back a piece of her heritage from Corypheus’s hands.

Solas had said the temple belonged to Dirthamen, and he had seemed to know everything about the building, easily answering her questions based on his travels in the Fade, leaving her with the sense that with Solas, she could have the connection to the past and people she had lost, a connection she longed for more and more each day she spent as Inquisitor. A connection James could never give her.

“What are you thinking, vhenan?” Solas asked, rubbing a hand gently up and down her spine.

Nassella propped her head up, resting her chin on his chest. “Dirthamen’s Temple. I was remembering how much you knew about it.”

Solas nodded. “I had travelled there in my dreams before, seen the rituals and prayers the ancient elves made to the god of secrets.”

Nassella took a deep breath. “Maybe we should have stayed to talk to one of the nearby clans. Then you could have told them what you know. Or maybe you could write a report to send to them—“

“It would do no good,” Solas said, his hand grazing lower, teasing the swell of her ass.

“You don’t know that,” Nassella said, frowning. “My clan would have loved to receive such information.”

“Would they?” Solas asked. “They would have been an exception, then. More likely they would have mocked the flat-ear and his stories.” His fingers were lower now, playing along the top of her thigh distractingly. “Though I suppose you are here. Perhaps there would have been hope, if you had been there to listen.”

“The Dalish are trying to restore elven history. Surely they would not entirely ignore what you have to say,” Nassella insisted. She had to believe her Keeper would have welcomed Solas, saw the knowledge he had as a wonderful resource.

“I have tried,” Solas said. “On countless occasions. But the Dalish already consider themselves perfect, the sole keepers of elven lore. I might reach a few, at most.”

“That’s something, at least,” Nassella said.

“Yes, but over time, rejection can become too much, even for me. I have offered my lessons learned in the Fade, and been derided by my enemies… and sometimes by my allies. Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn’t worth listening to. Over time, it grinds away at you.”

Nassella chewed on her lip. She had known Solas lived a lonely life, but this was the first time he had really opened up, really told her why he spent so much of his time alone.

And part of her saw why he had been turned away. Dalish clans _were_ often wary of outsiders, and anything that came from beyond their araval circles. Even her own curiosity in the world past her forest home was seen as strange, and often discouraged. She had been allowed to learn how to read and write so she could trade with humans, but her own questions about the world beyond the Dalish had usually been avoided.

Still, when they needed a spy, she had been the one who was sent.

“I’m sorry that happened,” she said. “But I don’t think you should give up on the Dalish. The things you have learned… our people could benefit from learning such things. It’s worth trying again.”

“I appreciate your optimism, vhenan, but I’m afraid I no longer see the advantage of trying.”

“What if I came with you?” Nassella said, determined to make him see, make him try. “I’m Dalish. I could bridge the gap. Clans would trust me, and after everything the Inquisition has done to make things safer for the clans… surely they would listen.”

“Vhenan—“

“We could go to the Arlathvhen!” Nassella exclaimed suddenly. “There should be one coming up soon. I’m sure once we defeat Corypheus the clans will want to meet. It would be the perfect time to share what you know.”

Solas has back to stroking her backside, drawing small circles across her flesh. “Perhaps, vhenan.” He started rubbing her ass more firmly, cupping the cheek in his palm, her mind turning immediately toward having a second go. “But we should not focus on that now. Corypheus must be our priority.”

Nassella sighed. Someday, she decided, she would take Solas to an Arlathvhen. But he was right. Learning more of elven culture would have to wait until the world was safe. Otherwise, anything learned would be in danger of being lost.


	103. Tired and Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content in the middle

James watched Nassella as she sat on the throne at the head of the great hall, sitting stick straight but still dwarfed by the massive chair. He considered it was a wonder anyone took her seriously as the Inquisitor with her small stature, but he couldn’t deny the way her face took on a stern cast when she needed to exert her influence, how the glint in her green eyes turned dangerous, calculating when she had to play her part. James knew Nassella always carried daggers somewhere on her body, and that she was ready to use them. She might be small, but she knew when to turn up her hunting instincts enough so that even the most oblivious, pompous noble knew to be wary of the small Dalish elf.

And if they failed to realize the danger she posed, she need only remind them of the Inquisition, and the organization she had at her back. James was sure everyone in Thedas had at least _heard_ of her feats, and reacted accordingly.

And now, in Skyhold’s great hall, Nassella had everyone’s attention, as she quietly deliberated what would be done with Blackwall… Thom Rainier, standing at the bottom of the steps leading down from the throne. She shifted slightly and lifted her chin, and James felt his eyes dropping down from her face to the long line of her neck, and her chest, covered by the tight, fine tunic she wore when conducting official Inquisition business. James knew she hated those clothes, even with their Dalish embroidery, much preferring her more casual tunics and breeches. Josephine had even convinced her to wear shoes.

Nassella took a deep breath, her small breasts expanding slightly against that tight fabric. James blinked and looked away. If he stared much longer he would start fantasizing, imagine pulling those prim clothes off of Nassella’s body so he could kiss her and touch her…

He shook his head. His mind was a cruel, terrible thing sometimes.

The few whispers echoing through the hall quieted, and James looked back to see Nassella opening her mouth, ready to give her sentence. James stood a little straighter, body tense, waiting with everyone else to hear what would happen to Blackwall, the man who had taught James the majority of what he knew.

“Blackwall intended you join the Wardens,” Nassella said, her voice raised so everyone in the silent hall could hear. “I will let them decide your fate.”

A few murmurs rose up from the crowd. James didn’t know what to think, couldn’t judge if handing Blackwall over to the Wardens was a fitting punishment. All James knew was that Blackwall would likely be gone…

“But only when Corypheus is defeated,” Nassella continued, standing from her chair. “For now, Thom Rainier, the Inquisition needs you.”

More whispers and hushed words echoed through the room. James wasn’t surprised. Most of those gathered were Orlesian, and Nassella had just announced that one of their most wanted criminals would be allowed to continue serving the Inquisition.

James felt angry as well. He didn’t want Blackwall… Thom, to die, but he didn’t want to be around him any longer, and it disappointed James to find Thom Rainier would still be a part of his life.

“As you command,” Thom Rainier said, his expression entirely unreadable. He lifted his hands as the guard stepped forward to unshackle his hands.

“Blackwall gave you a chance to atone through action, not just punishment,” Nassella said, more softly, so that James only heard because he was so close to the dais. “I can do no less.”

Some of James’s anger melted away. He knew it must have been difficult, impossible, for Nassella to be the one to judge Thom Rainier, considering the months they had all fought together. James was certainly glad he had not been the one to make such a decision.

Still… he didn’t trust Thom anymore, and he didn’t want to fight next to him ever again.

Nassella walked down from the throne and the crowd started to disperse. James watched Thom, making sure the man stayed away. But he didn’t need to worry, as the older man was focused on Josephine, and once free, took a few hesitant steps toward the younger woman.

But Josephine took a step back, clutching her ledger to her chest, shaking her head slightly. Thom paused, then nodded and turned away, walking quickly through the crowd until he was out of sight.

“That’s sad,” Naomi said quietly. James turned toward his sister, leaning against the wall behind him. “I hope they can work something out.”

James frowned. “He lied Naomi. He ordered innocent people murdered. _Children._ Of course Josephine doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

Naomi crossed her arms. “I know James… but he’s trying to do better. They had something good started… I was just hoping they could find that again.”

“Would you forgive him that easily?” James asked. “Just look past everything he did?”

Naomi sighed and leaned her head against the wall, wearily looking toward the ceiling. “Cullen isn’t perfect either, James,” she said quietly. “He was part of a broken system that encouraged him to do… bad things too.” She looked back to him. “But that isn’t the person he is now, nor the person he ever intends to be again. So yes, I would forgive Bla— Thom. I _do_ forgive him.”

“Of course you would,” James grumbled.

Naomi shrugged, then closed her eyes and let out a yawn that lasted several seconds. When she was finished she sighed again, slumping even more heavily against the wall. “I know you’re angry. But Thom’s trying to do better. He’s acknowledged his mistakes and should be given a chance. And, well… not everyone survives becoming a Warden, so he may still… be punished.”

James watched his sister as she rubbed at her eyes, stifling another yawn a few seconds later. When she was done she looked back at James, and he noticed how tired she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, the skin slightly loose and baggy beneath her gaze. And her hair was not quite as well put together as usual, and he swore she had been wearing those clothes the previous day…

“Are you ok?” he asked his sister. “You look terrible.”

Naomi grimaced slightly and rolled her eyes. “Jeez James, thanks a lot.” But she reached for her hair and attempted to smooth down the braid.

“I’m serious,” James insisted. “Are you sick?”

For a brief moment, Naomi didn’t answer and instead stared at the floor, but eventually she looked back, and James saw she was holding back tears.

“Cullen’s the one who’s sick. Ever since you got back from that temple with the red lyrium…” Her lip quivered and she wiped at her eyes. “He’s barely been sleeping, and even when he does he just tosses and turns from nightmares… And he’s in pain all the time, which might not be so bad if he could just sleep…” She shook her head. “I haven’t been sleeping either, not when he’s like this, and I’m… I’m so worried. It’s worse than I can ever remember, and nothing I do seems to help…” She sniffed and leaned even more heavily against the wall. “I just don’t know what to do James,” she whispered.

James clenched his jaw, working it back and forth while he thought. He’d known Cullen hadn’t been feeling well, but he hadn’t realized how much it was hurting his sister. “Hasn’t he been through this before? I’m sure he just needs a little more time to recover.”

Naomi nodded, wiping away the tears that were falling down her cheeks. “I know, I know, but I just… I thought he was past the worst. So seeing him like this is so discouraging…” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m just so tired.”

James reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. “It’s alright. But maybe you should go take a nap or something. Just because Cullen’s not feeling well doesn’t mean you should lose sleep.”

But Naomi shook her head. “I don’t have time. I need to help Dennet with the horses, and I finally got lyrium and I was hoping to find some time to work with it—”

“Ok Naomi, you always bug me about taking care of myself. Take your own advice and get some rest,” James told her. He shoved her shoulder gently. “Seriously, you look like shit without sleep.”

“I’m fine James,” Naomi said stubbornly, pushing back until James dropped his hand. “I’ll just… try a slightly different potion or something. And if he works late again… I’ll get some sleep then…”

She walked away with a small wave of her hand, weaving slowly through the crowds still choking the great hall until she disappeared into the undercroft. James shook his head, thinking Naomi was probably more stubborn than him, despite anything anyone had ever said. He would need to keep an eye on her the next few days, to make sure she didn’t work herself into exhaustion. Especially since Cullen was apparently in no state to watch out for his sister.

James looked toward the doors, deciding what his next destination would be. He could always go to the training grounds, he knew, but he had already spent the majority of the day there, and while he wasn’t tired, there were only so many drills he could run in a day before he was bored.

The tavern then. It’s where he had gone the previous three nights, drinking himself numb and flirting with every woman who stopped long enough to start a conversation. He’d gone to bed alone every time, but he thought he was probably in deep enough with that scout Freya, a tall woman with dark eyes and a wide, easy smile, to ask her back to his room that night.

But he hesitated to move. There was a reason he hadn’t been with a woman the previous three nights. Sleeping with Freya wasn’t going to make Nassella love him, or make Mayra come back. At the very least it would just push them further away.

Still… James was lonely. He had been lonely for months.

That had been painfully clear when Mayra dumped him. Looking back that night, once he wandered back to the tavern to nurse another couple of drinks, James had realized just how… empty, his entire relationship with the woman had been. It was nothing like the love he’d had for Makenzie, whom he’d shared his dreams and hopes with for the first time, or this one-sided love he had for Nassella, a woman who supported and encouraged him when so few others had. At least he knew Nassella, talked to her. And he would do anything for the elf, no matter what she asked, but he hadn’t even been able to spare a little more of his time and energy for Mayra when she requested it.

He should never have slept with Mayra. He’d known that from the beginning, and yet he’d given into his loneliness and slept with her all the same.

And that was not a good enough reason.

He shouldn’t make the same mistake again, shouldn’t do anything to fuel the shame and disappointment already weighing down his heart.

But he was still lonely, and he still had nothing to do that night.

_I’ll just go to the tavern… and see how I feel in a few hours…_

At the very least he could spend a night swapping stories with Bull and Varric. And later, if Freya was willing…

_No. I won’t do that. Just drinks. That’s it._

But James didn’t even make it out of the great hall before he was stopped by Cullen, his sister’s lover looking even more exhausted and haggard than Naomi. James wondered how he had missed it for so many days.

“James, I wanted to speak with you about our plans for Adama— I mean the Arbor Wilds,” Cullen said, shaking his head slightly at his mistake.

“Ok…” James said, crossing his arms and watching as Cullen rubbed at his temple.

“Yes, well, you know the Inquisitor is planning on leaving for the Hissing Wastes tomorrow—“

“You mean the Hinterlands?”

Cullen frowned, squinting slightly as he peered at James, as though the dim light in the great hall was actually a sunny day. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“No, you said the Hissing Wastes,” James replied.

Cullen sighed. “The Inquisitor is leaving for the _Hinterlands_ tomorrow, but I have requested that you stay here in Skyhold, so that you will be available to travel with our forces when we leave for the Arbor Wilds within the week.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Why do you want me?”

“I had hoped you would be available to take part in patrols and raids along the way, and to send correspondence back to Skyhold.”

James shifted on his feet, unsure of how to respond. He liked the idea of having responsibility with the army when they marched on the Arbor Wilds, but he didn’t want to leave Nassella…

“What about Ness?”

Cullen shook his head. “You would be more useful with the army than with the Inquisitor. She can send her own messages—”

“Well Naomi could send messages for you,” James offered.

Cullen frowned, and rubbed once more at his head. “Yes, she could, but I believe you will benefit from coming with the army. I would like to work toward placing you in some sort of leadership capacity—”

“Leadership?”

Cullen took a deep breath, then met James’s eyes. “Please stop interrupting me, James.”

James drew his arms a little closer to his body. “Sorry.”

Cullen nodded. “I do not know what you have planned for the future, or what you hope to do once the Inquisition has served its purpose, but from what I have seen, you have potential to serve as more than a mere foot soldier. You have invaluable experience with the Inquisitor, but I wanted to offer you an opportunity to learn more formal military training.”

James chewed at the inside of his cheek, mulling over Cullen’s words. He never thought much beyond the next day, the next week, maybe the next month, but he knew Cullen had a point. Eventually he would have to find something else to do. He couldn’t run after Nassella his entire life.

And as much as he didn’t want to leave her behind… James knew Nassella would be fine.

So he nodded. “Ok, that’s fine. I’ll come with the army. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Cullen let out a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Good, that’s good. I will… send you orders in the next few days…” The man started to walk off, but James stepped in front of him.

“Cullen…” he started, waiting for the man to look up. He really looked terrible, James thought, and he understood why Naomi was so upset. “Naomi was saying you haven’t been feeling well.”

Cullen shook his head. “I am fine James, you needn’t worry yourself.”

“Well, I’m worried about Naomi,” James said. “She’s losing sleep over whatever you have, and I just… don’t like seeing her so upset. So maybe… try to get some rest or something.”

Cullen frowned and started walking away. “Thank you, James, but I will be fine.”

_Well… I didn’t really think he would listen to me…_

Trusting that Naomi could handle Cullen, and whatever was bothering him, James continued outside. He paused for a moment, and briefly considered training again.

But he had done enough of that for the day, so he moved toward the tavern instead, where he wouldn’t be alone.

 

* * *

 

Cullen closed the door to his office, wincing when a draft caused it to slam. He’d had this headache for what felt like days, and it was starting to wear on him. He had managed so far to keep it from affecting his work, but his slip-ups with James suggested that control was waning. He should do as James suggested, he knew, and try to get some sleep, but every time he managed to close his eyes he had nightmares, more vivid and horrifying than they had been in months. He did not stay asleep for long.

Cullen crossed the room to his desk and sat heavily in the chair, rubbing at his temples in an attempt to lessen the pain. But it was no use.

It wasn’t just the aches and the pains. He craved lyrium. Every waking hour, with every fiber of his being. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from marching to the Templar’s barracks and demanding a vile to satisfy the ache. Even now, it was all he could think of.

The door opened and Cullen looked up to see a scout peeking around the door. “Come in, come in,” Cullen said, sitting straighter and gesturing the man into the room, welcoming the distraction. “What do you have for me?”

“Final supply requisitions to be signed off on, ser.”

“Very good, let me see,” he said, extending his hand, squinting slightly so he could focus on the words. There were lists of personnel included, along with the numbers for supplies, and Cullen struggled focusing enough to check the calculations, to be sure that there would be enough food and clothing and medicine and everything else for the people marching under his command. “Just leave this with me,” Cullen told the scout wearily. “I will get it back to the quartermaster shortly.”

“Yesser!” the scout said, and Cullen groaned slightly at the pounding that single word sent through his head. When he was alone he sat back and closed his eyes, taking a few, deep breaths in an attempt to focus.

He woke, moments or hours later, he couldn’t tell, heart racing and sweat drenching his entire body. He leaned forward, resting his head in his arms, and took a few moments to calm himself, to chase the images of blood and broken bodies from his mind, clear the screams and whispers of demons from his ears.

Every time he thought he left these nightmares behind, left the Circle behind, something happened to pull him back, to remind him just how trapped he still was.

But it could not affect his work, could not keep him from serving the Inquisition. He had worked through the pain before, and he would continue to do so, no matter how much he hurt, how exhausted he was, or how much he wanted lyrium.

Several hours later, he had finally managed to work through the requisitions, checking his calculations twice, adjusting volumes of food, the number of horses…

He didn’t like considering the horses. He had been uncomfortable with Naomi coming ever since Dennet had sent his first roster of stable hands…

Cullen moved to studying maps of the Arbor Wilds, incomplete as they were, continuing his attempt to formulate _some_ sort of plan for assaulting Corypheus’s red Templar force in the forests. As it was, Cullen was entirely unsatisfied with his ability to formulate plans and contingencies, and knew instead he would likely have to change everything when he actually arrived and saw the lay of the land.

It was dark by the time he was finally driven to put down the maps and reports, his head pounding and blurring his vision. He yawned, and felt a rumble in his stomach. He had missed dinner, and tried to remember what the last watch change had been. When he finally recalled the number of bells he had last heard he winced. It was late, and he hadn’t seen Naomi since… that morning.

Actually, he hadn’t seen Naomi much at all the last few days, he’d been so focused on preparations. And after what James had told him earlier that day…

He needed to go to her, reassure her that he would be alright, that she needn’t worry about him.

His joints were aching by the time he reached their room, his route long and taking him through the kitchens for a bite, and he shut the door as quietly as possible to keep his head from hurting any more. He slowly removed his armor, placing it carefully on the stand in the corner, then moved toward the bedroom.

He expected Naomi to be asleep, but as he approached he saw that the room was lit with the soft glow of candles, and he heard soft noises drifting through the open door. He paused for one moment, listening to a few soft groans, a gasp, and then a whimper that sounded suspiciously like his name…

He pushed the door fully open, casting his eyes quickly around the room, falling almost immediately on the figure lying on the bed, the source of the sounds.

It was Naomi, of course, but Cullen did not expect to find her like he did, wearing only one of his old tunics so she was bare from the hips down, her legs bent and spread, one of her hands beneath that tunic grasping at a breast, the other between her legs, working at herself…

She whimpered again, clearly his name, and thrust into her hand, her eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open, chasing her pleasure. Part of Cullen was aroused, his eyes locked on where her arm disappeared behind a thigh, imagining what her fingers were doing, how wet and hot she would be…

“Naomi?” he asked, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Oh!” Naomi exclaimed, sitting up quickly, her hands flying away from her body and pulling the shirt as far down over her hips as she could, the peaks of her breasts pressing against the fabric. She was breathing heavily, her face flushed, and even through the haze of his headaches, Cullen wanted to kiss her parted lips. “I… I didn’t hear you come in.”

“What are you doing?”

She stopped pulling on the shirt, though she’d had little success in covering her curves with the fabric. “I… um…” She looked down at herself and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know the word in Common…”

It had been a foolish question. Cullen knew exactly what she had been doing. And he felt ashamed. Ashamed because he could not remember the last time they had made love. It had apparently been so long that Naomi had turned to herself for release, so sure he would not be available to her. What kind of lover, what kind of man was he, if he couldn’t keep satisfied this woman he loved, this woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with?

Cullen walked toward the bed, body aching with every step, exhaustion weighing down his limbs. But he hid his discomfort as he stopped at the edge of the bed, blinking slightly to keep his vision clear while he looked at Naomi sitting in front of him. “Why?” he asked, noting the way her brows pulled down in worry above her brilliant eyes. “If you needed… needed this, why not tell me?”

Naomi licked her lips, then sighed, her eyes falling down to his chest. “I knew you would be working late, and I… I was just so _horny_ when I tried to fall asleep. I was just going to take care of it—“

“You should have come to me,” Cullen repeated. “I would have made time—“

“I don’t need you to get off,” Naomi snapped. Cullen frowned, surprised. But regret immediately swept over Naomi’s face. “I’m sorry Cullen,” she said, rubbing at her eyes. “I just know you haven’t been feeling well. I didn’t want to bother you with something I’m fine handling on my own. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Cullen said softly. He knew Naomi had not been unaffected by his pain and nightmares, try as he might to keep from waking her. And the pain had kept them apart, for days now. Even now, after walking in on her pleasuring herself, moaning his name, only half-covered by a thin cotton shirt, the aches and exhaustion permeating his entire body were stronger than any desire he felt for hers, the lyrium a more urgent pull than her.

But he could change that. Cullen pulled his tunic over his head and kicked off his boots, crawling onto the bed, ignoring the discomfort as he moved closer to Naomi, hovering over her body. “I know you don’t need me to ‘get off’,” he said, focusing through the pounding in his head. “But if you need pleasure, I want you to ask me Naomi, before resorting to your own hand.”

She swallowed, still apprehensive. “You’re in pain Cullen. We don’t have to.” But her eyes fell to his lips, her tongue flicking over hers again.

Cullen lowered himself, and Naomi, settling himself above her body. “I want to,” he repeated, sighing slightly when she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “I want you.”

“I know Cullen, but right now—“

He silenced her with his lips, her words turning into a soft moan as he molded his mouth to hers. He pressed her into the bed, moved his hand beneath her tunic so he could palm her breast. But the feel of her soft skin and the give of her flesh beneath his hands, sensations that always sent blood rushing to his groin, hardening his cock until it ached, did nothing for him now. Instead of desire and want coursing through his body as Naomi moved against him, Cullen only felt the pain growing, and the longer he kissed her, the more his head pounded…

Desperate to feel something other than the pain that had plagued him for days, or the desire for lyrium, and desperate to pleasure Naomi as he had promised, Cullen adjusted his body, centered himself between her legs so he could rut against her sex, exposed as he lifted her tunic up entirely, leaving her chest bare to him. He left her lips behind, nipping and suckling at her neck while he kneaded and thrust against her, pulling her closer and closer, until he couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure he felt more strongly…

“Cullen,” Naomi gasped, her hands grasping at his shoulders. “Cullen, maybe we should stop…”

Cullen clutched her tighter, running a hand down her waist and toward the wet folds between her legs. He might not get hard, but he could still please her in other ways. “Just a little longer,” he whispered into her neck, sinking one, then two fingers inside of her. “I will be fine. I can make you come…” He started to pump, burying his fingers to the knuckles, fumbling for her clit with his thumb…

“Cullen, I don’t think… stop. Stop!” And then Naomi’s hands were pushing against his shoulders, instead of pulling them toward her, and her legs kicked against him, separating his hips and body from hers. Cullen went limp, and fell to the bed as Naomi rolled from underneath him, putting distance between their bodies. Cullen closed his eyes and pressed his face into the blankets, head throbbing and body flushing with shame.

Naomi had never asked him to stop before. Not like this. He had made sure to never do anything that would hurt her, ensuring she only ever knew love and pleasure when he touched her. And now, after days of doing nothing, he had utterly failed. He had more than failed.

He didn’t want to look up, couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Naomi looking at him with anger, or worse yet, fear. He felt a few hot tears slip from his eyes. He could work through this pain when it came to his duties to the Inquisition, but he realized he could not be what Naomi needed. He should have stayed in his office and worked.

He felt a tentative touch his shoulder, sending a jolt through his entire body. He shied away from Naomi’s hand, even more ashamed that she was the one comforting him. “Cullen,” she said quietly. “ _Liefje_. It’s alright. Do you want something for the pain?”

She was so good. Far too good for him.

“No,” Cullen whispered, rolling slowly to his back. The least he could do was face her, even if he couldn’t open his eyes. “I’m sorry Naomi,” he continued. “Please forgive me… I never intended to hurt you—“

“You didn’t hurt me,” Naomi replied.

“You had to ask me to stop,” Cullen said, miserable.

“And you did,” she said softly. “You did exactly what I wanted.” He felt the bed shift as she moved closer, her hand gently running over his shoulder. “And I wanted to stop because _you_ were hurting, not me.”

Cullen frowned, considering her words through the pain. He hadn’t hurt her. She had wanted to stop for him…

Because he couldn’t please her, couldn’t love her, not when he was consumed by this withdrawal. For the first time in months, he feared he would not find his way back.

“I’m sorry,” he told Naomi again, covering his face as more tears slipped from his eyes. “I want to give you what you need, but I… I can’t even love you anymore like this—“

“Cullen,” Naomi said, her hand running across his chest and up his neck, until she cupped his jaw. “Cullen look at me.”

He cracked his eyes open, wincing at the light, but focused on her eyes nonetheless.

“I don’t need sex,” Naomi told him, stroking his cheek. He saw a tear slide out of a reddened eye. “I just need you to get better. That’s all I want, all I care about. I need to know you’re going to be alright…” She sniffed, and wiped at her face, blinking as more tears fell down her cheeks.

He hated to see her crying. Cullen sat up, reached for Naomi and pulled her into an embrace. “ I will be fine, Naomi. I promise,” he murmured into her hair, running his hands over her back. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve endured it before, and I will again.”

“But you’re not getting better Cullen. You’re hardly sleeping. How can you get better like this?”

“I will,” he said, pulling back so he could look into her eyes, wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’ve done it before.” She just hadn’t seen it. He had never slept better than when he was next to her.

But he had to admit that this was different, especially after so long. He knew it was the red lyrium. It had reminded his body of its desire for lyrium, and it caused him to crave until he ached, until he hurt.

“How can I help you? What can I do?” Naomi asked, her arms wrapped around him. “I know the potions help some, but it’s not enough.”

“There’s nothing, Naomi,” Cullen said softly. “You do enough—“

“What about your dreams?” she asked, peering into his eyes intently. “I… I could find your dream and… and make it better? Serenity helped James, maybe she can help you…”

Cullen’s entire body tensed, and he felt himself pull away from her. “No,” he said gruffly. “No. I don’t want that demon near me—“

“Ok, ok,” Naomi said quickly, reaching to stroke his face. “I’m sorry Cullen. I just… I just want to help, give you a chance to rest—“

“Not like that,” Cullen said, realizing his heart was racing, and that now he was the one trying to distance himself from Naomi. He stopped, took a deep breath, and calmed the panic setting into his mind. Naomi was just concerned, worried. And he had thought before that seeing her in dreams might not be that bad. This was just a reaction to his nightmares, to the memory of the Circle and its demons. Naomi was nothing like that…

“I’m sorry I suggested it,” Naomi said softly, gently holding him. “I’m just so worried Cullen...”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling her back into an embrace. But he would endure, just as he had for months before he found her. And he would not ask Naomi for more of her effort, for more of her concern. This was his battle to fight, and he would fight it. And he would win. If not for his sake, then for hers. “I know my love. But try not to worry. I _will_ be alright.”

 

* * *

 

Naomi slipped into the small room that served as a Chantry, relieved to find it empty. A few candles still flickered on the stairs leading toward the large stature of Andraste, suggesting others had been there that day. But for the moment, Naomi was alone.

She collected three candles from the basket, and lit a small stick. Carefully she set the candles on an empty space on the steps, kneeling carefully on the dusty stone floor. Slowly she lit each wick, soft yellow flames bouncing and waving in a slight draft moving through the room. Naomi snuffed out the stick, then settled in to pray. It wasn’t a church, but she didn’t believe God, or the Maker, would mind.

First was Nassella. The elf had been gone three days, making a quick trip to the Hinterlands before rushing back toward Orlais and the Arbor Wilds. It was expected to be a relatively uneventful trip, aside from the red Templars found mining in an abandoned dwarven old roads entrance, and potentially whatever Cole led them to as he struggled to keep himself safe from binding. Still, Naomi worried every time her friends left the fortress, and sent a small prayer for their safety.

_Be with her God, be with all of them. Please… help them come back safely._

It was short. Naomi had always been terrible at praying. But more and more… she needed to do something, anything, that might help.

Next was James. Naomi stared at the middle candle, the tallest one, and thought of her own tall brother. He was troubled, she knew, but she was just as lost when it came to helping him. Knowing he wanted Nassella, thought about her romantically, meant Naomi at least understood why he was often so upset, so angry around Nassella and Solas. His break-up with Mayra (which Naomi had only learned about when she found the woman in the stables the day before, packing her things into a wagon that was headed toward the Hinterlands with a patrol of soldiers, Mayra explaining she was moving back to be with her father, before winter settled in too bitterly below the mountains) also explained why James had gone to the tavern every night since his return, and why Naomi had seen him wandering Skyhold’s halls with another woman.

 _I just want him to be happy God,_ Naomi prayed. _If that’s with Nassella, or another woman… it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to see him so lonely and angry…_

_But… help him realize, that… that he doesn’t need someone else to be happy. Help him see the friends he has around him, and help him find purpose in what he does…_

It was hard, to pray for something like that, when Naomi herself had found happiness with Cullen. But she thought she would be happy without him. Cullen just made it… easier to be happy.

And that brought Naomi to her third candle.

She felt herself starting to tear up. It was Cullen that had brought her to the Chantry in the first place. Because despite his insistence that he could handle the withdrawal, and his attempts to hide it from her, she had only seen him grow worse over the last few days.

He was not sleeping, and his brow was constantly furrowed in pain. He was exhausted, and he drifted off into vacant thoughts more than he seemed to realize, and half the time when he pulled himself back it was with a jolt of fear.

He had spent two nights away from their bed, either working through the night, falling asleep at his desk, or staying in his loft…

Naomi had caught up somewhat on sleep, but her thoughts were never free from thinking of Cullen, and she spent her nights sitting in the Fade next to Serenity, trying her best to keep her thoughts from becoming too dark, wary of attracting the attention of some wandering demon.

Then, that morning when Naomi had brought Cullen tea and something to eat, he had started to cough. Though infrequent, it was body-rattling, and every time he fell into a fit Naomi thought of Alec, who Emory said was continuing to deteriorate, refusing the medicine even from his friend’s hand. Cullen should not have stayed in the cold and drafty tower overnight, and Naomi insisted he come back to their room that night.

But she didn’t know if it would be enough. He was deteriorating, and the longer he went without proper sleep, the weaker he would get, the more vulnerable he would be to sickness. And he was already forgetting things. Naomi couldn’t imagine him attempting to lead the army to the Arbor Wilds.

A journey they were beginning in two days. Two days and they would be on the road, marching toward the Arbor Wilds and a red Templar army. Potentially Corypheus himself.

The thought made Naomi’s stomach twist with fear. He was in no condition to fight. He needed to sleep. He needed to be healthy.

He could very well get himself killed if he wasn’t.

 _Please God,_ Naomi pleaded, thoughts a mess in her distress. _I don’t know what to do. I’m so worried. And I can’t… I can’t lose him. Not him too…_

It made her ache to think of it.

_Keep him safe, let him sleep. Anything…_

But her prayers felt hollow, because she had never believed God one to answer those sorts of prayers. God could comfort, inspire, provide meaning and purpose, give people courage. He gave people _hope._ He _loved._

Naomi found all of those things important, powerful. More than once those very things had kept her going.

But she did not think God healed. He did not vend out miracles. Medicine healed, people did things under their own free will. It was up to _them_ to provide action, to make their lives into something better, into what they wanted, and give when they could. She would pray for God to protect her from evil, but ultimately, it would be _her_ fighting against those demons.

But she didn’t know how to help Cullen. Potions could only do so much, and more and more she was realizing that his inability to sleep was likely more dangerous than headaches and craving.

And with that thought, she knew one thing she might be able to do.

But Cullen had told her no, had said he did not want that type of help.

_But he needs to sleep. It’s the one thing that might actually make this better…_

He had seemed most upset about the thought of Serenity interfering. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she as the only one who tried to do anything, if she was the one who touched his dreams…

Naomi was not satisfied. Her first foray into another’s dreams had ended in disaster. Could she live with herself, doing the same to Cullen?

Could she live with herself if she did nothing and something happened to him?

She wished Solas hadn’t left with Nassella. She might ask the elf what he thought.

Naomi stared at her candles, at a loss. She wanted to help Cullen, desperately. But she felt trapped in her options.

Her knees started to hurt, and Naomi whispered her final prayer.

“And I am convinced, that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, no power in the sky above or in the earth below, indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God.”

_Nothing can separate us from the love of God._

No matter what happened, she would always be loved.

Naomi returned to her room late that night, having dozed off at her desk in the undercroft. She was surprised to find Cullen already in bed, though she smiled, knowing he had taken her request seriously and returned to their room to sleep. He had already taken the dose of the strong sleeping draught she had asked Adan to make, and for the moment, appeared to be sleeping soundly.

But while she was changing into a nightshirt, Cullen started to cough, and though he did not wake, Naomi felt that twist of fear again. He could not get sick, not two days before their journey.

She crawled into bed next to him, gently slipping beneath the blankets. Her eyes started to prick with tears when she touched him, as she found his body damp with sweat, his temperature definitely raised toward the realm of fever.

Naomi buried her face in a pillow and started to cry. The last time she had been this scared, so absolutely terrified she might lose someone she loved, James had fallen into the Fade.

She had been helpless then, reduced to waiting for him to return.

But she could do something now.

Naomi turned her head toward Cullen, reaching to gently brush a lock of hair off his forehead. She might not get another chance like this, another chance to at least _investigate_ where he dreamed, to see if even standing outside could make something better. _Anything._

“Please forgive me,” she whispered, leaning to place a kiss on his cheek. “I love you Cullen.”

Serenity found her almost immediately when Naomi entered the Fade. “You are agitated,” the spirit said, her white tail flicking. “And unsure.”

Naomi ran a hand over her face, and cast her eyes toward the hazy, vague sky of the Fade. “I know,” she whispered.

She had to try. Cullen would fight for her… she had to do the same.

Naomi looked at Serenity, meeting the spirits large, dark gaze. “There’s someone’s dream I need to find.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liefje = darling (Dutch)


	104. In His Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet I think! New Year's resolution... at least try to write slightly shorter chapters...
> 
> NSFW content, especially at the end.

Naomi jogged through the Fade, Serenity easily keeping pace beside her. She focused her mind on Cullen, on his face, his body, the sound of his voice and the scent of his skin, on his love of chess and dedication to his work, anything that might lead her to his dream, trying the entire time to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

_You want him to be at peace. How is that wrong?_

Naomi glanced toward Serenity, then rounded a corner, disappointed to see nothing in front of her but a misty hallway. “I’m afraid that he’ll… be angry with me,” she said, running to the end of the hall, hesitating only briefly before taking a turn to the left. It didn’t matter where she went. So long as she focused on Cullen, she would find him.

But she needed to hurry. She didn’t know how long he would sleep.

_Why would he be angry if you bring him peace?_

The hallway opened into a courtyard, and Naomi slowly came to a stop, confronted with a blue, shimmering dream clinging to the opposite wall, a door at its center. She took a deep breath, sure it was Cullen’s. Still, she turned to Serenity.

“Is it his?”

Serenity flicked her ears. _Yes._

Right. Naomi looked back at the softly glowing dream. She swallowed, clenched and unclenched her fists.

This was it. Her chance to help Cullen, give him a chance at a night free of nightmares.

But she hesitated. Cullen would be angry. She just didn’t know how by how much.

“Is he having a nightmare?” she asked the spirit.

 _It’s not good_ , Serenity replied.

Naomi took a step forward, then stopped. He might not forgive her…

_He’s not alone._

Naomi looked at Serenity, then back to the dream. The man she loved was having a nightmare, one that had haunted him for months, years. She had to do something.

She would rather he be angry than suffering, distanced from her than… than possibly getting hurt because he was too exhausted.

“How do you help people in their dreams Serenity? How do you change them?”

_I find the good memories, make them stronger. Sometimes it takes time to find them. It can also take time to work._

Naomi wasn’t sure she could do the same, but she couldn’t allow Serenity to come closer. “You should stay back,” she told Serenity before moving forward. “He will be _really_ angry if you do anything.”

Serenity blinked, but said nothing, and when Naomi started moving, the spirit stayed put. Naomi watched the dream as she approached, looking for any sign of change, any sign of distress. But nothing changed, and when she finally stood before it, Naomi put out a tentative hand.

The energy danced across her fingers as she sunk the digits into the barrier, followed by a stream of sound, emotion, flickers of images…

It was dark inside that dream, dark and terrible. Naomi felt overwhelmed by fear, anger, and a deep, body-permeating despair…

Every night Cullen felt these things. It was no wonder he preferred to stay awake, to escape from whatever horrible memories he was reliving.

Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pushed back against that dark stream, sending her own current of light back, remembering every good memory she could: sitting beneath the stars and sending tentative looks toward each other, slowly teaching him her language, smiling at each other over games of chess, talking about their homes and childhood memories, kissing that first time, hesitant and sweet, and every shy kiss after that…

It wasn’t enough. The darkness did not dissipate. If anything, it pushed back harder. Naomi added another hand to the barrier and changed tactics, focusing less on what had happened during those moments, and more on how she had felt. Safe. Happy. Fulfilled. Giddy and nervous and hopeful and wanted and loved…

Nothing changed. Naomi frowned and focused harder. Something had to work, _something_ had to be enough to overcome this nightmare.

It wasn’t just love they felt for each other. There was desire. _Lust._ She thought about those moments when they were alone, skin against skin, lips dancing and hands wandering, gasping, moaning, the joy she felt when he filled her, when they moved together, c _ame_ together…

And those moments after, when they held each other, sweat-slicked and spent… it had quickly become one of Naomi’s favorite things, making love with Cullen, and she replayed as many moments as she could remember in her mind, and several she had imagined…

“Ah!” she cried, opening her eyes and stepping back from the dream, forced to disengage by a rush of pain and terror that tore through her own memories. “Fuck,” she muttered, casting her eyes over the dream. It wasn’t enough. _She_ wasn’t enough.

 _Maybe I_ will _need to use Serenity. She’s actually done this before…_

“Ah, I wondered who was sending such lovely images my way,” a smooth voice purred.

Naomi looked to her left, stepping away with a start. There was a slender man standing next to her, far too close, entirely naked, his skin a deep, sickly green.

A demon. Naomi tried to calm the racing of her heart, keep her fear in check. She could not give this demon any purchase in her mind, any opportunity to take advantage of her toiling emotions.

But what worried her more was that it was _here_ , by Cullen’s dream. It had seen what Naomi was trying to do, the thoughts she tried to send inside. It couldn’t be good.

“Those weren’t for you,” Naomi told the demon.

“I enjoyed them regardless,” the demon said. “Especially the last set. Such vivid, _sensual_ imagery.”

Heat rose through Naomi’s body, but she kept her outward reaction to a minimum. So what if this demon had seen every one of her most intimate memories…?

“You are different,” the demon continued, musing. “You don’t belong here.”

“I belong just as much as you,” Naomi told the demon.

It laughed. “I suppose you do, in a way.” It ran its dark eyes over her body. “Perhaps you could explain why you are disturbing my meal with your lovely thoughts.”

_Disturbing its meal…_

This demon was feeding off of Cullen’s nightmares, taking his pain and hurt to sustain itself. Naomi’s stomach twisted. It had been the right decision, to come here. She had to get this demon away from Cullen.

If only she knew how.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Naomi said carefully. She swallowed. “But you should leave. This is not your dream to have.”

The demon laughed, harsh in contrast to its voice. “It is in my home, of course I may have it.” It inspected its long nails, dirty and pointed. “I have always enjoyed the singing soldiers’ dreams, and the darkness that clings there. Those with the wild song are best, but when I came across _his…”_ The demons sighed. “Absolutely delicious. And now… why, I’m sure I can take those lovely memories of yours and twist them into something even more appetizing…”

Naomi stared at the demon in horror. It wasn’t just feeding from Cullen’s dream. It was _affecting_ them, c _hanging_ them.

Making them worse.

“You need to leave,” Naomi told the demon, clenching her fists. “You can’t… you can’t stay here any longer. He needs to _rest._ You’re hurting him—“

“And you don’t like that,” the demon said softly, eyeing her again. Naomi clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t let her emotions get so out of control.

But she didn’t know how else to convince this demon to leave Cullen alone. She desperately wished Solas was there. Naomi glanced toward where Serenity had been waiting, but the spirit was gone. It worried Naomi. How powerful was this demon, if the spirit of peace had been driven away?

She needed to be on guard. The image of a dagger came to the front of her mind, ready.

“Please,” she asked the demon, knowing it would never work. “Leave him be.”

A smile flickered across the demon’s face. “But what will I have, if I leave him alone? What will you give me?”

“Nothing,” Naomi said. It was the one thing she could never do. Give something to a demon…

“Tsk, tsk,” the demon said, taking a small step forward. Naomi stepped back. Its smile grew. “That’s not how this works. I’ll need something in return, if I’m to give you what you want.”

“I have nothing for you,” Naomi said. It was looking more and more like she would have to fight. She’d have to drive this demon off herself and… potentially kill it.

She’d killed demons before. She could take one more.

“Oh, but you do,” the demon purred, and it took another step forward, growing larger, until it was no longer a slender man before her, but a large, muscular one. Naomi’s heart started to race, and she twitched her fingers, itching to have a knife in her hand. But she didn’t want to set the demon off by threatening it. It started to circle, but Naomi turned with it, unwilling to leave her back exposed.

“I have always fed off the dreams of mortals, and the fear so often found there,” the demons said quietly. “But it has been some time since I found a mortal like you. No pesky barriers in the way. With you I could _experience_ those fears, first hand…” The demon licked its lips, its dark, empty eyes unwavering as it stared at her body. “And you have some wonderful fears I would like to taste…”

Naomi couldn’t breathe. She knew exactly which fears this demon wanted her to relive, and since it was naked, Naomi could see that it was ready, right then, to act on every memory she had locked away in her mind, that it would take her imagined assaults and make them real, take anything good in her life and turn it to terror.

It wanted her to trade Cullen’s pain for her own, feed this demon with her own despair. She knew it would leave Cullen alone, if only she said yes to its deal.

Naomi had no intention of giving the demon what it asked, but even if she considered for a moment that making a deal with this demon was the answer, she didn’t think she would be able to do it. She desperately wished she had the courage to do so, that she would gladly take on such pain for Cullen. But she didn’t think she could. The thought of allowing this demon to do what it wanted to her…

Cullen wouldn’t want her to do it either. He would be furious, livid, to find out she sacrificed herself for him.

She still wished she was brave enough to do so.

“Do we have a deal?” the demon asked, stopping in front of Naomi, towering over her, its erection close, straining toward her. It was disgusting, and Naomi took a step back.

“No.”

The demon shrugged. “Very well. Now, if you will excuse me, there are a few things I would like to try to make these dreams a tad more interesting…” It turned away, reaching a spindly green hand toward Cullen’s dream…

“No!” Naomi yelled and raised her hand, now clutching a long blade. She rushed the demon and slammed the knife down through the top of its shoulder, tugging down on the grip in an attempt to tear as much of its body as she could. The demon screeched, and then Naomi found herself flying across the courtyard, the wind driven from her lungs when she impacted the ground. She scrambled to her feet, gasping for breath, more blades appearing in her hands. The demon screeched again, and when Naomi looked to it, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

It was growing, already nearly twice the size it had been, twisting and morphing until it was no longer recognizable as anything remotely human. It reached up and pulled the knife from its shoulder, throwing it to the ground with a snarl.

“Did you think that would work, mortal?” it asked, laughing. “Did you think you could kill me?”

_Fuck. Fuck! Dammit, shit…_

The daggers in her hands turned into a bow and an arrow, and Naomi shot at the demon, arrow after arrow, sinking the points into its chest, its neck, its stomach. She tried for an eye, but the target was too small, and the demon had started to move.

It lifted its arms, and Naomi ran to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast that flew from its hands. She looked to where she had been standing, the ground now covered with a sheet of slick ice.

_Fuck._

Naomi cast her eyes around, desperate for some idea of how she could kill this demon. It was larger, and clearly stronger, than anything she had faced before. And she was alone.

It flung its arms again, and Naomi saw ice hurtling once more toward her. But instead of running away, she willed a wall of earth to rise up between her and the demon, just as she had done dozens of times with Solas. The blast shattered against the wall.

Naomi blinked, a plan forming in her mind. She had more than the knives and bow. She had the very Fade itself at her disposal. She could crush the demon beneath a mountain of earth if she had to.

The demon screeched and Naomi ran, avoiding the newly directed ice thrown in her direction. She created a new barrier and jumped behind, peeking over the top, only to duck when ice was thrown once more.

_Ice. All it does is throw ice…_

Demons were predictable. They quickly showed their entire hand. This demon threw ice, and seemed in no hurry to chase her or come closer. It would throw its frozen blasts until she was hit, and then…

She didn’t want to know.

_Find a way to immobilize it. Then I can get close enough to kill._

More ice hit the wall, causing it to shudder against her back. Naomi moved again, circling back the way she had come to keep distance between herself and the demon. Behind her next wall she solidified her plan. Water. She needed water. Water to make ice that could keep this ice-throwing demon still.

_How can I help?_

Naomi jumped and turned. Serenity was back at her side, miniaturized to fit behind the barrier. “Distract it,” Naomi said. “Give me a chance to make a couple of things.”

Serenity flicked her tail, then bounded away. Naomi held her breath, sighing slightly in relief when she heard another blast of ice, this time away from where she sat.

She didn’t have much time. She needed to work before Serenity could be injured. Naomi turned and faced the center of the courtyard, and after a second of clear thought, a pool of water appeared. The demon was spinning, attempting to swipe at the tiny deer that was dancing just out of reach around its feet. But it needed to be closer to the water, away from Cullen’s dream. Naomi moved the air, summoned a wind so strong that the demon slid across the courtyard stones until its feet were soaked with water.

Naomi stood, pouring all of her concentration into that water, imagined it rising up, enveloping the demon entirely, freezing as it went…

The water complied, moved up the demons legs until it was frozen in place. But Naomi didn’t move fast enough, and the demon sent a wild blast of ice toward her with a shriek.

Naomi cried out in pain, her right arm and the right side of her chest burning with cold. The demon laughed and wound up for another blast. Naomi made herself another wall, crouching behind the earth while she assessed her arm.

She couldn’t move it, as the entire limb had been encased by a sheet of ice, and the cold was making it hard to breathe, sharp pain shooting through her chest with every breath. The wall shuddered against her back, and Naomi tried not to panic. She would wake up and her body would be fine. So long as she survived long enough.

She could wake up right now and escape. But she didn’t know what this angered demon would then do to Cullen.

She couldn’t wake up yet. She would fight for Cullen.

_It’s stuck._

Naomi looked at Serenity, who had appeared once more at her side. If the demon was still stuck, that was good. She could still carry out her plan. Naomi moved to look back over the wall, ducking when more ice flew over her head.

She frantically looked around for more ideas, and finally saw what she needed. The wall of the courtyard, rising toward the hazy Fade sky, was leaning over, precariously and impossibly held up by the magic of the Fade. It was hard to move those structures in the Fade, but she could do it, if she had the time.

Praying the demon would remain frozen in place, and ignoring the aching pain in her right side, Naomi concentrated on that wall, pictured it falling, imagined those stones slipping apart, giving in to the gravity urging them to fall, tumble down on the demon that had been hurting the man she loved…

Ice flew over her head but Naomi didn’t flinch, just thought of that wall falling. And finally, after several, excruciating seconds, it did.

The stones broke away and crashed toward the ground, directed toward the demon by Naomi’s will. She heard it screech, scream above the din of the stones, and then, there was silence.

Naomi looked over her barrier cautiously, heart thumping in her ears. But the demon was no longer standing. In fact, she couldn’t see any sign of the demon at all.

Then something drifted out between the gaps in the rubble, what looked like dark flecks of ash.

_It’s gone._

Naomi looked at Serenity, breath and heart still racing, her arm now numb from the pain. “It’s gone? Dead?”

_In a sense._

“But Cullen’s safe?”

_From that one, at least._

Of course. Cullen would never be entirely safe. There were still demons, and spirits, everywhere in the Fade. But maybe he could finally have some relief, at least for a time.

Naomi leaned back against her barrier, taking a few shallow, labored breaths. She had started to feel light-headed from her racing heart and reduced capacity to intake air. It had been stupid to try and take that demon alone. She should have waited for Solas or Cole to return.

But she hadn’t felt like she had the time, and now that the demon was dead, perhaps she could finally see to Cullen. Naomi stood slowly, gingerly holding her frozen arm to her body. “Thank you Serenity,” she gasped. “I couldn’t have done this without your help.”

_Now he can have peace._

Yes. Peace. Naomi walked back to Cullen’s dream, stopping a foot away. With a sigh, she reached out her left hand, once more contacting his dream.

There was still pain. Still anger. Still fear. The demon was dead, but it had not created Cullen’s nightmares. It had fed off them, made them worse. But they were not gone from Cullen’s mind.

Naomi closed her eyes and pushed deeper, free now from the demons meddling, the emotions flowing from the dream came stronger, accompanied by clearer images of what Cullen was seeing. Dark halls in a stone building, scattered candles illuminating fallen bodies, some wearing Templar armor, others dressed in robes, others burned or mutilated beyond recognition. And as Naomi sank deeper the images grew more gruesome, until the dead could no longer be recognized as human, just masses of flesh and death plastered against every wall…

It made Naomi sick. But worse were the sounds she now heard. Screams of pain, people pleading for their lives, begging to die, _dying._ From every direction. Constant, insistent, reminding Cullen again and again of what had happened to every person he knew in that Circle…

This is why he feared abominations, why he was so wary of mages. This is why he had been so afraid to learn of the way she dreamed. This is what he thought she would become.

It broke Naomi’s heart. He had joined the Templars so young, so bright-eyed and sure he would help people. And then this had happened and he’d been helpless, entirely unable to save anyone. He’d barely been able to save himself, keep himself together enough to stay alive. And he hadn’t entirely succeeded, knowing what she did of his life after that. These events had changed him, and seeing now what she did, Naomi was in awe that he had found his way back in any way at all.

Sickened by the images in Cullen’s dream, Naomi tried once again to make them better. She pictured those rooms and halls empty, clear of the dead scattered along the floors and walls, pushing her will over the dream. It took some time, but eventually the dream responded, and Naomi felt relief sweep through her body as the tower emptied. She thought of her own memories once more, hoping that Cullen would remember, and perhaps dream of something other than this broken place…

Someone yelled, cried out in anguish, and Naomi recognized Cullen’s voice. Something new passed over her vision, an image of Cullen kneeling on the floor, surrounding by the blue light of a barrier, pleading with a figure standing before him.

_No! You can’t be here, you can’t take her from me too…_

He was sobbing, falling to the ground.

_Not her. Not her…_

Naomi saw what Cullen did, and thought she might cry.

It was herself, standing in front of Cullen entirely bare, arms spread to welcome him into an embrace. But instead of comforting him, Naomi felt Cullen start to panic, begin to wake. She had gone too far, allowed herself to become part of the dream, put herself in a place she had never been before. The last place Cullen would ever want her to be.

Cullen was being ripped from the Fade, his dream falling apart in jagged chunks. Naomi felt herself carried along, following the thread of Cullen’s consciousness toward the waking world, enveloped by terror and sorrow until they were pulled apart, and she woke gasping and disoriented, Cullen’s body thrashing next to hers.

 

* * *

 

She couldn’t be here, it wasn’t possible. This place was for his past, for the people and memories of the Circle. For death and pain and hurt and anguish and anger and mistakes…

Not her, not Naomi.

He had to get out of there, had to escape. He raged and tore, broke his way free from that prison. He would not be tempted with Naomi, not with the woman who brought him light and happiness and love. The demons could not take her, _would_ not take her.

Cullen found himself in a bed, shaking and hot, blind in the dark. It took him a moment to realize the screams were gone, that the only sound in his ears was his own labored breathing.

And then something shifted next to him, another’s breaths joined his. Cullen recoiled, terrified that his demons had followed him from his nightmares. Because he at least realized he had been dreaming.

“Cullen! Cullen are you alright?”

Naomi. She was panicked, afraid. He was frightening her with his writhing. Cullen groaned softly, ashamed at how he continued to disturb her while sleeping. He had never wanted his nightmares to affect her.

“Cullen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She wasn’t making any sense. He was the one who should be apologizing for waking _her_. “I’m fine,” he said, sitting up and rubbing at his temples. He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He could still see her, Naomi standing before him with the dark, soulless eyes of that creature… “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m sorry Cullen,” Naomi repeated. He felt her hand gently on his arm, shaking slightly. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

 _Make it worse…?_ What did she mean, why was she talking like this…?

Because she dreamt in the Fade. She had already suggested finding his dreams…

Cullen lowered his hands and turned toward Naomi, his heart now racing with anger and fear. “What did you do?” he croaked.

He could barely see her, her features in shadow. But he could hear the tears she was holding back in her voice. “I… I was worried Cullen. You’ve barely slept in weeks, and I… I was afraid you would get hurt…”

“What did you do?!” Cullen repeated, louder. She was guilty, avoiding answering him. Because she had found his dream, despite what he had told her…

“I went to your dream,” she whispered, her hand clutching his arm tighter. Cullen pulled it away, horrified. “I just wanted to try and make your nightmares go away. So you could rest!” she pleaded. “But I didn’t know what I was doing and it wasn’t working, and then there was a demon…”

“You went inside?” he asked, looking away from her. “You went inside my mind…” How could she? How could she do this to him…?

“No! Never,” Naomi said. “The demon was outside…”

Cullen’s body seized in fear. “You met a demon? In the flesh?”

“Not the flesh exactly…”

“Maker’s breath Naomi!” Cullen yelled, moving himself off the bed. He scrambled for his clothes, head pounding. “You know what I mean!” He fell into a fit of coughing as he pulled a tunic over his head.

“It was feeding off of your nightmares Cullen,” Naomi said. He heard her shifting across the bed. “It was making them worse! I had to stop it! I had to kill it—“

“You fought it?” Cullen asked, fumbling for the front of his pants. “You fought this demon in my dreams…”

Cullen’s stomach twisted. There were always demons in his dreams, he just hadn’t realized they might be real…

“It was _outside_ Cullen. I would never go inside your dream—“

“But you still found it, after I told you not to,” Cullen said, finally dressed. He looked at Naomi, now crouched on the edge of the bed nearest him. “You… you expressly went against my wishes! You invaded my privacy, my mind!” He started to cough again, until his stomach started to ache from the effort. How could she betray him like this…?

Naomi sniffed, and he knew she was crying. “I was just trying to help!” she said. “You’re sick Cullen! You need to rest, or you won’t get better before you have to fight! I was afraid! I had to do something!” He saw her shadow wipe at her eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you, and I didn’t mean to make the nightmare worse. I was just trying to put better images in your mind. Please Cullen, I just wanted to help…”

He shook his head, still coughing softly, too angry to continue this conversation. He didn’t care how much she wanted to help, she should have listened…

“It wasn’t your place!” Cullen yelled when he caught a breath. “I wanted you to stay away!”

“And I wanted to help! I couldn’t stand to see you hurting any longer, not when there was something I could do!”

It didn’t matter. She had betrayed his trust. Cullen felt sick. “How could you do this?” he asked her. “How could you do this to me? You know how I feel about the Fade, about having my thoughts meddled with.”

For a moment, Naomi said nothing, just rubbed at her face. Finally she answered, voice broken. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I love you Cullen, and I would rather… rather you hate me than be dead because you weren’t at your best.”

Cullen paused. He didn’t hate her. Even after this… that had never crossed his mind. Had he really been that bad, that Naomi was seriously ready to destroy their relationship because she thought he might die? Cullen couldn’t believe it, though the last few days had been… hazy.

“I need some air,” Cullen said gruffly, grabbing his cloak from the peg by the door as he left the bedroom. Naomi didn’t follow.

His anger had started to cool by the time he reached his office, though the hurt had not. He lit a candle and settled at his desk, finally focusing on the last few days.

He had not been sleeping much, that much he knew. But that wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, and he was confident that despite his lack of sleep, he could fulfill his duties. And no one, not Leliana or Josephine or the Inquisitor, had expressed their own concern.

Of course, Naomi was the one who most often saw his lapses, saw those moments when the lack of sleep _did_ affect him. They had not made love in days, had barely spoke, and he woke so often thrashing from nightmares…

Yes, it had gotten bad. But he had _told_ her he could handle it. It gave her no right to interfere.

He was hit with another fit of coughing. _That_ was new, Cullen admitted, and he had felt a fever coming on. He felt more than withdrawal and body aches… he was getting sick.

It did not mean anything would come of it… Naomi still couldn’t just meddle with his dreams based on a little cough…

She had wanted to help, had repeated it over and over. But she’d said more. She’d been afraid, feared he might make a mistake because he was tired. She couldn’t stand to see him hurting, couldn’t bear the thought of losing him…

Cullen leaned back in his chair and sighed. Naomi loved, deeply, and when she was faced with the loss of a loved one, whether rational or not, imminent or not, she pushed herself.

She had searched the Fade for days when David died. Had nearly driven herself into death.

She had fought with tooth and nail when James fell into the Fade, pushed her hope beyond the limit so that when he returned, her mind and body had fallen into shock.

She had hidden her own pain and discomfort in an attempt to keep Nassella protected when the elf was vulnerable. It had nearly resulted in Naomi’s death again, and she still bore the consequences of that desire to help on her chest.

And now, she had done something she knew could hurt him, might drive him away, because she feared, once again, that she was about to lose someone she loved. She had found his dream, discovered, fought and killed a demon, just so he might have a night of sleep…

She did nothing out of malice, never intended to hurt. Cullen still recoiled at the thought of anyone entering his mind or tampering with his dreams, but if it was Naomi, someone who had done nothing but love him…

Cullen was no longer angry. He was hurt, yes, and weary, but not angry. And if Naomi had really removed a demon that had been suckling from his nightmares, a thought that disturbed him the most, he could be nothing but grateful.

He woke hours later, face plastered to his desk and the papers scattered there. Cullen blinked, disoriented to find himself in the light of day. With a groan he sat up, head and body still aching, but feeling more rested than he had in weeks…

 _I didn’t wake from a nightmare,_ Cullen realized, stretching out his legs beneath the desk. _Not even a hint of a dream…_

A glimmer of green caught his eye, and Cullen glanced to the edge of his desk, finding a bottle of potion waiting for him, note tucked underneath. He picked up the small vial and rolled it between his fingers.

_Naomi._

She had been there and left him to sleep. Cullen picked up the note, swallowing back a pang when he read her words.

_I’m so sorry Cullen. Please forgive me._

_I love you._

Cullen dropped his hand. How many times had he said similar words to her? And how often had she forgiven him?

_Always._

He could do no less. He needed to speak with her, make sure something like this never happened again… but he couldn’t let this end them.

He swallowed the potion she had brought, and by the time a messenger arrived with reports from their forward scouts in the Arbor Wilds, his headache was nothing more than an annoyance he could push to the back of his mind.

The news was not good. The numbers of red Templars were growing, more than they had anticipated…

Cullen was devising new strategies for dealing with the red Templar force, gently shifting Naomi’s note across the surface of his desk, when something that had been bothering him for days finally snapped into clarity.

Naomi couldn’t go to the Arbor Wilds. He couldn’t let her within a hundred yards of a red Templar, much less bring her to the doorsteps of an army of the monsters.

He should have realized sooner, but his mind had been so clouded by a haze of exhaustion, pain, and craving, he hadn’t considered what would happen if she was brought along.

She would insist to help with the fighting, just as she had done at Adamant, just as she took it upon herself to do the night before. She would fight, and eventually, inevitably, she would find herself struck by a red Templar’s smite or mana drain.

Powers that would just be stronger as the red lyrium corrupted the Templar’s body.

She would die. Maybe not certainly, but the chances were far too high for Cullen to risk, and he balked when he remembered the times he had seen her cut off from the Fade. And a battle was far less controlled, far too unpredictable. He could not ensure her safety, no matter the planning.

She couldn’t be there.

He stopped the next person who came through his office, a scout of Leliana’s, and sent her off with a message for Dennet, ordering that Naomi no longer be included on the list of those tasked with looking after the horses on the coming campaign, placing her on duty to watch the stables in Skyhold instead. He would need to explain his decision to Naomi that night, but for now, knowing she was no longer included in the plans eased the fear that had gripped him.

She came to him before then, however, opening his office door while he was meeting with a few of his officers, followed by a few flakes of snow. She slammed the door behind her, glaring at him until he dismissed those gathered.

When they were alone, she exploded.

“What the fuck Cullen!?” she yelled, hands balled into fists. “Why did you ask I be left behind?! Why did you tell Dennet I needed to stay in Skyhold!? Is this… is this a punishment?” she cried, eyes wide and mouth dropping open in disbelief. Her breathing started to become ragged. “Are you trying to get away from me? Do you not want me around anymore?” Her eyes were bright, but she quickly squeezed them shut. “Please Cullen, don’t leave me behind. I’m sorry for what I did! I know I was wrong…”

She still thought he was angry.

“This isn’t a punishment, Naomi,” he tried to reassure her. “And I’m not trying to get away from you. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Naomi opened her eyes and stared at him. “Keep me safe? But… but why now? I went to Adamant! I was at the Winter Palace! I don’t need to be kept safe! I can handle myself!”

“Not around red Templars,” Cullen told her, to make her see. “You’ll die if you come to the battle. You need to be as far away as possible—“

“Then I won’t come to the battle,” Naomi said, frowning. “I’ll stay back at camp…”

It could work, Cullen briefly mused. But he quickly discarded the idea. They could be ambushed at any time. It was still too risky.

“No, you need to stay here. It will be safest.”

Naomi’s hands were in fists again. “Cullen, please, you can’t just keep me here…”

Cullen’s head was starting once more to ache from the strain of the argument. Why couldn’t she see? “I can, and you will,” he told her, praying she would understand why it had to be this way. “I will not see you killed by a red Templar when you can be safe behind these walls.”

“Cullen, can’t we talk about this? Figure something out?”

It was too much, and Cullen started to get angry with her again. Why couldn’t she just see that she was better off in Skyhold? Would she never listen to him?

“No, you are staying here.”

“You can’t just make me—“

“I can!” Cullen finally yelled, head now pounding. But he was focused enough to see her expression flit from anger, to hurt, then back to anger. “I am the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, and I can order you to stay here.”

Naomi crossed her arms, eyes burning into his. “I’ll talk to Nassella—“

Cullen glared back, growing angrier at how unreasonable she was being. “You will be a liability, Naomi, no matter what. You are the most vulnerable person in the Inquisition to Templars. Even more vulnerable than mages. No matter what, you can be nowhere near the battle. I cannot be worried about your safety during this campaign. The Inquisitor will agree.”

Naomi’s nostrils flared. Cullen couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her so angry. “You can’t just make this decision for me—“

A knock echoed through the chamber. Naomi’s head snapped toward the offending door as it cracked open. “I don’t mean to disturb you ser,” a hesitant voice called, followed by a head. “But Sister Leliana wanted to meet immediately…”

“Yes, yes, give me a moment,” Cullen told the messenger, never taking his eyes off Naomi.

“This is for the best,” he said, quieter in an attempt to calm her, bring the situation back under control. Naomi shook her head, eyes shining bright again.

“Whatever,” she spat. This time, she was the one to storm away.

Cullen sat heavily once more behind his desk, not ready to meet Leliana just yet. Nothing had gone right with Naomi these past few days. They were no longer instep, no longer moving forward together…

Cullen groaned, rubbing at his temples. They were acting on their own, ‘helping’ one another without consent, assuming they knew what was best…

He should have talked to Naomi about her staying behind, explained why he wanted her to be in Skyhold instead of letting her learn from Dennet.

She shouldn’t have gone to his dream without him knowing. And perhaps he should have considered her offer to help in that way in the first place.

Cullen stood, knowing what he had to do. He would meet with Leliana, and then he would find Naomi and _talk._

 

* * *

 

Naomi had never been so angry with Cullen. She knew she didn’t have any right to be, after what she had done the night before. But she could not keep herself from growing more and more upset the more she thought about how he had unilaterally decided she was too weak and powerless to leave Skyhold’s walls.

And his nerve… ordering her to stay behind. At a basic level, she knew he did have the authority. She was part of the Inquisition, took their hospitality and shelter and money and gave her service in return… but it still stung, to know that she was not in control of where she could go. It had never been a problem before, but now…

Naomi ran to the stables, head down to hide the remnants of the tears in her eyes, straight to Liberty’s stall. She nearly had the horse saddled and ready to run, away from Cullen and the frustration of the entire day, when Dennet leaned over the door to the stall.

“You can’t go out,” he told her.

Naomi almost snapped at the man, but held her tongue at the last moment. “Why?” she asked, attempting to keep the angry edge from her voice. Dennet had done nothing wrong.

“Storm’s coming in,” Dennet said. “Don’t want to be caught out in the snow.”

A little of Naomi’s anger melted. “Oh,” she said, looking toward the stable doors. “I didn’t realize.”

Dennet cleared his throat. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off. We’re nearly ready to leave in the morning, granted this snow clears out by then.”

Naomi’s heart sank.

The army was leaving in the morning.

Cullen was leaving in the morning.

And she was staying behind.

She had already accepted it. She didn’t believe Cullen would be convinced to take her along, and by the time Naomi reached their room, she knew she would stop trying.

Because he was right. Frustrated as she was with how he had told her, Naomi realized she was terrified of meeting red Templars, recognizing, once her head was cleared to think, that she would indeed be a sitting duck, just one rogue smite away from death.

But knowing Cullen was going to leave her for weeks… just left her empty, once the bulk of her anger drained away.

Unable to ride her horse, and unwilling to go back out into the world where she might have to meet or talk with someone she didn’t want to, Naomi called for a bath, pushing down that part of her that balked to have servant’s take care of her needs. Still, she was grateful when she sank into the slightly sudsy water and dunked her head to wet her hair, floating in the hot, soothing water to soak away the aches of the day.

She started to craft her apology to Cullen while she lay, running through line after line that would convince him that she loved him, had only ever done anything because she loved him, but that she was sorry, so sorry for everything she had done. Anything that would lead to him forgiving her before he left…

His footsteps caught her by surprise. She had been certain he would work late that night, making final preparations for the army’s departure. But he was there, standing in the doorway to the water closet when she blinked away the water in her eyes, looking at her with none of the anger or frustration he had possessed earlier in the day.

“I’d… hoped to find you here,” he said softly, his eyes drifting slightly down toward her chest, only to find her eyes again. “After you weren’t in the stables.”

“I was going to go on a ride,” she responded, drawing her knees toward her chest. “But there’s a storm.”

“Yes, it may delay our departure.”

Naomi nodded. “That’s good,” she whispered. Cullen raised an eyebrow, and Naomi explained. “I’ll get… get more time with you.”

Cullen swallowed, then looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck. He wasn’t coughing, Naomi was happy to see. “I would like to talk, when you are finished,” he said, backing out of the room.

“Wait!” Naomi called, sitting up straighter. Cullen paused in the doorway, his eyes back on her chest. Naomi realized she had exposed herself, and lowered in the water again. “We can talk here…”

Cullen looked around the room. There was nowhere to sit, Naomi realized, feeling foolish. Then Cullen cleared his throat, eyes once more looking at her. “Would you… like me to join you?” he asked quietly. Hopefully.

Naomi found herself nodding. She had been starved for his touch, she realized as Cullen undressed, casting his armor and clothes on the floor, and even if they did nothing but share a bath, she knew she would treasure this last look at him, no matter what. He might want her to stay behind to be safe, but he would still be in danger. Once more, she was faced with the possibility of losing him, and was helpless to do anything.

Cullen let out a small sigh when he eased himself into the water, careful to keep the displaced water from splashing over the sides. Naomi moved to one side of the tub, large for this world, and shivered slightly when one of Cullen’s legs slid along hers, pressing against her until his foot grazed her hip. She watched his face as he closed his eyes, soaking for a moment in the same water that had felt so good on her own body, thinking she could not imagine a more handsome face.

“This feels good,” he murmured eventually, his golden eyes opening.

Naomi nodded. “I know.”

 _This is ridiculous,_ she thought as they lapsed back into silence. _Just apologize…_

“I’m sorry.”

Naomi was speechless. She had not expected Cullen to apologize first. Or at all.

“No, I’m sorry,” she finally told him, running one of her hands along her thigh, trying to remember her carefully crafted words. “I shouldn’t have gone to your dream without your permission. I crossed the line, and I… I wish I could take it back.”

Cullen shook his head. “I could have considered that you might be able to help me in my dreams. I shouldn’t have dismissed the idea so quickly.”

Naomi stared at Cullen, and felt tension she had been holding in her shoulders start to lessen. Surely he forgave her, if he was here now, if he was saying those things. “Are you… still angry with me?”

Cullen looked toward the water and shifted, his leg pushing against her body. “No, not really,” he murmured. “I know you did not intend to hurt me. And I am… I am grateful, that you removed the demon that had attached itself to me.”

More tension left Naomi. She hadn’t been sure he had even heard her…

“But,” Cullen continued. “I need to know that you will never do something like that again, not without my permission.”

Naomi nodded, throat aching. “Of course not Cullen. I’m… I’m not sorry I killed the demon. But I know I should have asked you, and I’ll never touch your dream without permission again. Ever. I’m so sorry I did it this time.”

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “Then we will leave it be. I don’t want to leave you angry.”

Naomi swallowed, heart rate picking up slightly. “Can we talk about that?” she whispered.

Cullen frowned ever so slightly. “You seemed to have accepted staying behind.”

“I… know it’s best,” Naomi told him. “But… why didn’t you talk to me?”

Cullen shifted again, his foot running along her hip, his hand resting gently on her leg. Naomi’s skin jumped at the contact, growing warmer than the water left it. “I was going to,” he said. “Tonight I was going to explain—“

“But why did you make the decision without me?” Naomi pushed. “You could have explained to me _first_. I would have understood, Cullen. I probably would have agreed.”

“I know,” Cullen said, regret in his gaze. “But when I realized the danger you would be in, I panicked. I needed to be sure, right then, that you would be nowhere near a red Templar, so I sent the order to Dennet. I… did not anticipate you would be so upset.”

He loved her, just as she loved him. They tried to protect one another, and it wasn’t the protection they didn’t like. It was how it had been offered, and Naomi needed Cullen to understand why she had been angry.

“I don’t want you telling me what to do,” Naomi told him. “I… I know I have limitations Cullen. I know there will be times I need protection, when I need to be kept safe. But I don’t like feeling helpless, like I don’t have control. I did so much on my own back on Earth, and it’s been hard living here, being so completely out of my abilities.”

Cullen’s fingers were gently brushing against her leg, sending small currents of water through the bath. “I’m sorry Naomi. That was never my intention. I just want you to be safe. You’ve already suffered so much.”

“I know Cullen, but… but please talk to me first. And don’t… don’t just assume that keeping me behind walls is the way to do it. I’d still like to get out, see more of this world, and I hope that… that we could do that together. I want you to help me, but not by hiding me.”

She could see Cullen struggling. His instinct was to protect, and that was easiest with walls. But he nodded, pushing past that first impulse. “Alright,” he said. “I would like that.”

Naomi felt herself start to smile. “Thank you.”

And he smiled back and Naomi knew they were past the worst. They had apologized, forgiven each other, told each other what they wanted in the future…

She could watch him leave with that much less weighing her down.

His hand continued to play along her leg, moving a little higher. “Thank you for the potion earlier,” he said. “I spent most of the day with a tolerable headache.”

“I’m glad,” she said. She put her own hand gently on his leg. “Did you… sleep well?”

Cullen nodded, and took a deep breath. “Yes. Finally.” His lips turned down slightly in a frown. “How difficult was it, to kill the demon?”

Naomi bit her lip, and looked away from his eyes. “I… was injured at one point. I could have woken up, but I was close so I pushed ahead. But… I should have waited for Solas or Cole to return. I was lucky Serenity was there to help.”

She felt his hand tense. “Did you… allow that thing near me?”

Naomi quickly shook her head. “No. She didn’t touch your dream. I promise.”

Cullen’s hand relaxed, but he shook his head. “Never again,” he said softly. “I don’t want you fighting demons like that.”

“I can’t always control when I run into demons Cullen. But I get better at fighting them every time.”

“I know, but still… I don’t like it.”

“I don’t exactly like it either,” Naomi said lightly, her lips twitching up.

Cullen sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you do.” His hand more firmly ran along her leg, setting between the two… “I love you,” he said, locking his gaze with hers. “I don’t think I’ve told you yet today.”

“I know you love me,” Naomi said, smiling more fully. “You wouldn’t worry so much if you didn’t.”

“No, I suppose I wouldn’t.” He flicked his tongue along his lips, his eyes dropping to her mouth. “I would like to kiss you,” he murmured. “If you would…?”

But Naomi was already moving, adjusting so one of her legs was on each side of the tub, using her hands to propel her body forward, sliding between Cullen’s legs until he could reach her, pull her fully into his lap by her waist, water lapping at her breasts where she was now elevated out of the bath. Naomi wrapped her legs behind Cullen and buried her hands in his hair, quickly bringing her lips to his. He leaned in just as eagerly, groaning into the kiss when she licked into his mouth. He pushed back in the next moment, and Naomi started to grow lightheaded as he explored her mouth with his tongue, just as his hands set to exploring her body, leaving fire with each brush of his fingers. She responded in kind, leaving his hair so she could feel the stubble on his cheek and neck, grip at the muscles clenching in his shoulders, in his back. She ran a hand down his chest, through the damp dusting of hair, over familiar scars, feeling the movement of his stomach as he attempted to thrust against her.

He was hard, his cock pressed against her own stomach, the tip wandering hot against her as he grew to his full size. Naomi gasped into their kiss, desperate for air while simultaneously desperate for more of him. She tightened the hold of her legs, attempting to bring their bodies closer together, relieve the need that was growing in her core. Cullen had a hand on her ass, keeping her close, while the other grasped at her breast, squeezing until she started to ache.

She ripped her mouth away from his, and focused as much as she could in her lust on his own heated gaze. “Please Cullen, now,” she begged, wrapping her hand around his cock, stroking it from base to tip. It pulsed beneath her palm and she moaned, _needing_ him inside of her. “It’s been too long. Please, please…”

Cullen groaned, the guttural, needy sound sending a shock of pleasure through Naomi’s body. He grabbed her beneath her bottom and lifted her up, angled her hips so that Naomi could guide him to her entrance. He lowered her, slowly. Too slowly. Naomi tried rocking against him, gripped at his slick shoulders, unable to move him faster as he gripped her. “Now,” she demanded, wrapping her arms around Cullen’s neck. “ _Please.”_

Cullen pulled her down, filled her entirely in a single thrust. It tore cries from them both, though Cullen’s were muffled as he buried his face in her neck. For one, brief moment they were still, savoring the connection their joining brought them. Naomi clenched around his cock, adjusting to his presence and the perfect stretch of his length inside of her. “Ik hou van je,” she whispered, knowing he liked it when she spoke English during sex. “Maak nu mij komen.”

“Maker Naomi,” Cullen growled. Naomi smiled, especially when he started to move.

Up. Then down. Then up again. Faster and faster, using his hands, and the buoyancy provided by the water, to easily move her body, her sex sliding along his cock with bursts of fire and pleasure that soon left Naomi a weak, gasping mess. She could do nothing but hold on, grip Cullen wherever her hands wandered, close her eyes and savor his cock driving into her sex, feel the ache growing deep inside her body, press her breasts against him, into his face, into his lips that found a nipple to suckle…

Cullen was growling and groaning, his fingers digging into her ass almost painfully, bucking into her as much as he could sitting in the tub. Naomi could hear the water splashing over of the sides and to the floor from the motion of their writhing bodies, but she didn’t care. She just needed to come, needed to feel the tension winding tight in every muscle of her body release.

Cullen was growing erratic, almost painfully desperate, and Naomi sensed he was ready to fall. She worked one hand between them and Cullen mumbled a wordless, muffled plea into her body, driving her even more forcefully onto his cock. “Cullen,” Naomi gasped, brushing her fingers over her clit.

She came, hard, and her body arched as the orgasm flew through her. Only her arms around Cullen’s neck, and his hand sliding up her back as _he_ came, kept her from falling back into the water. Their cries mingled, echoing slightly in the stone chamber, and then there was quiet, the room filled with their gasping breaths, and the slowly calming sloshing of water.

“Sweet Maker,” Cullen gasped eventually. Naomi could still feel him pulsing inside of her, entire body aching with satisfaction.

“I’ll say,” Naomi agreed, heart racing. She placed a kiss into Cullen’s neck, slick with sweat. She felt her own skin covered in perspiration, the heat from the tub making the exertion of love-making that much hotter.

“Better than I imagined,” Cullen continued, his hands now gently moving across her back. “So, so much better.’

Naomi smiled, pulling away so she could look into his eyes. He was smiling back. “You’ve imagined this?”

He chuckled. “Only a few times.” He gripped her backside, keeping her wrapped around him. “Have you never thought of… new scenarios?”

Naomi thought of the last few weeks when Cullen had been gone, and her rather frequent thoughts of him taking her from behind…

“Yes, I have,” she told him. She bit at her lip, leaning in to kiss him. When she pulled back, she smiled. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

He arched an eyebrow. “When I return?” Cullen asked.

The question lowered Naomi’s mood significantly, reminding her that this moment with Cullen could not be reproduced again for weeks. But it was something to look forward to. “Yes, when you return,” she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik hou van je = I love you.  
> Maak nu mij komen = Now make me come.


	105. Confessions of a Lyrium Researcher

Entries from the Research Journal of Naomi Gretja Westerkamp, written in English.

_22 Harvestmere 9:42_

_The one good thing about staying behind is I finally have the time to do the research I’ve been planning. I have the microscope and the lyrium, and with most of the horses gone, little to do in the stables._

_I was going to start today, but Dagna asked me again about my gelatin plates. They worked. There was bacterial growth. I’ll want to do more tests, tweak the sugar and broth contents. But that will wait._

_Dagna was excited about helping though. I described an incubation chamber, some place more sterile to put plates. Temperatures can be more consistent, which will be good for controlled studies, and it can be moved and put out of the way._

_She asked for more. I wish I had worked in an actual microbiology lab back on Earth. I would know what I need. But I tried to describe an autoclave chamber. Something to sterilize instruments. That may take more tweaking. I know there is higher temperature, and higher pressure, but I’m not certain Dagna will be able to replicate anything, especially based on my limited knowledge._

_I was reminded of using UV light to sterilize. I asked how she made the light on the microscope. She says she can make lights of certain colors. That means, she might be able to make a light in the UV spectrum. She was very excited when I told her about the electromagnetic spectrum, and that there are wavelengths of light and energy that can’t be seen, but can be used._

_I think I’m going to have to talk to her again. If she can make runes and objects that emit waves beyond visible light, she could get herself into trouble. Things are dangerous at the far ends of the spectrum._

_23 Harvestmere 9:42_

_Looking at a sample of dry lyrium was not definitive. There were small grains, and clumps of blue crystalline structures, but it looked like sand. Lyrium is always described as a mineral, and dry lyrium certainly looks like it._

_[What follows is a series of sketches of what could be grains of sand, as well as detailed notes about size, color, and texture.]_

_Dagna showed me how Templars prepare the lyrium for ingestion. She said she learned how it was done in the Circle. She had laughed at the story, how she had talked long enough to get the information out of a young Templar recruit. Apparently, Templars don’t like to share that information._

_The lyrium is crushed, then soaked in warm water for at least 5 minutes. Then it is ingested. Very simple, but Dagna says the lyrium Templars are given is different. It comes from a different part of raw lyrium. That’s interesting. Lyrium could just be a mineral that takes slightly different forms. But it also suggests different structures because it is living. I would need to see raw lyrium veins to be sure. I’m not sure when that would happen. Dagna says those are heavily guarded by the dwarves._

_After soaking, the lyrium samples look different. There are distinct filaments, almost like fungus. And the sand grains have filled out, plump._

_[What follows are a series of sketches of filamentous threads, and round structures.]_

_I tried staining the sample with ink. It is crude, but the structures are now easier to see (I need to come back to finding better dyes). These are definitely something like fungus filaments. It looks exactly like the mycorrhizae I studied in undergrad. But more importantly, there are the dark spots of nucleuses. These are cells. I’m sure of it._

_The grains of sand are different. There is no obvious nucleus, but they are stained dark. They could be something like spores._

_[What follows are another series of sketches, similar to the previous set, but more detailed, accompanied by a page of notes describing the appearance of the cells.]_

_Lyrium is made up of cells, which means it is alive. Whether it is LIVING when Templars ingest the rehydrated cells, I don’t know._

_I’m going to try to grow the lyrium. I don’t know if it will respond to the gelatin, but it’s all that I have._

_24 Harvestmere 9:42_

_I prepared a series of gelatin plates with smears of the reconstituted lyrium. Dagna already made an incubation chamber and it seems to be working. She really is amazing._

_I put three plates in at a temperature I believe is close to human’s. I also put three plates outside, at cooler temperatures. Each temperature treatment also received a plate with a smear of unsoaked lyrium, and a plate with just a boiled water smear. I’ll let them sit at least 24 hours, then see what happens._

_[A large break occurs here.]_

_Something happened last night, and I’m not sure where else to put down my thoughts._

_I was taking another bath, just soaking in the water. I started to doze off, and kept falling in and out of the Fade. It doesn’t happen very often, but it’s a weird limbo sort of thing. But last night, when that was happening, I could feel the mana in my body. More than usual. I could feel it entering my body through the amulet, then flowing down my arm and to the ring. It felt strange, but good. Like it was alive. The energy almost danced. I wonder if that’s what mages feel like all the time._

_The weirdest thing is that I think I moved the mana. I was just sitting there, kind of half in sleep, poking at it with my mind, for lack of a better word. Kind of like when I poke at things in the Fade. And then it spilled past the ring. Just a little, but the water in the tub splashed. It woke me up, and I realized how long I had been sitting there, so I didn’t try again._

_I might try to do it again tonight. Or ask Dagna about it tomorrow._

_25 Harvestmere 9:42_

_Nassella showed up last night after being in the Hinterlands. She left again this morning, but we were able to talk a little before she did. They closed an entrance into the deep roads where red Templars had been mining red lyrium. They met a friend of Varric’s named Bianca (she apparently made Varric’s crossbow, which probably explains the name). Ness was saying that Bianca also believes lyrium is alive, because she discovered red lyrium is normal lyrium infected with the Blight. It makes sense, if she’s right about red lyrium, since only living things should be able to get an infection. I wish Bianca had come back to Skyhold. I’d like to ask her more about this. It would support my own hypothesis, and add more evidence to what I’ve collected so far. But Nassella is pretty sure Bianca won’t be back. I’ll focus on my own work for now. Maybe Varric can get me in touch with Bianca later. It would be good to have more evidence to build my case._

_Dagna was very excited to have Nassella come back. She gave her the rune she had made to destroy Samson’s armor. Nassella was very excited about that as well._

_The gelatin plates are showing no sign of growth, beyond a few spots of bacterial growth. I checked the spots with the microscope, but they look nothing like the lyrium, and are almost certainly bacteria. I’ll give the plates another day, but I will also try to come up with some new recipes. The lyrium may not be getting the proper nutrition._

_26 Harvestmere 9:42_

_The gelatin still hasn’t worked. The plates are completely overrun with bacteria. (I need to see how Dagna is coming with the UV light or autoclave. I need something to sterilize my things better. Also, some place I can incinerate used gelatin) Dagna says lyrium grows underground, from the earth._

_I’ve made gelatin plates with different nutrients available. Just one plate for each mixture, just to get some sort of baseline. Some have salt, others more or less sugar, different amounts of meat broth, some with ground stone, some with blood._

_[What follows is a list of recipes with exact measurements of added supplements.]_

_I’m not sure what will work. Dagna had managed to make a light that she thinks is UV. She made a purple light, then pushed it further, until it barely glowed. I exposed all the agar plates before filling them. Hopefully, boiling the gelatin and boiling the water I used to soak the lyrium will reduce the contamination from bacteria._

_[A break appears here.]_

_I tried moving the mana from the ring again this morning. I lied on the bed and went to fall asleep. But I tried again to get into that in-between sort of place. I knew it worked when I could feel the mana. This time I pushed on the mana right away. I could definitely feel it move beyond my ring. It was so weird. I could feel the world beyond my hand, as if my fingers were longer and I could run them along the blanket._

_I showed Dagna. I even managed to knock a book off my desk. She was very excited about this development, and even asked me to run the mana over her hand. She ran off, mumbling. She has some ideas, which I’ll probably find out in the next day or two._

_27 Harvestmere 9:42_

_It grew! There’s growth! I can see blue veins of the lyrium spreading on the gelatin made with blood. I took a sample and looked under the microscope. The filaments were there. Very small, but there._

_[What follows are a series of drawings of thread-like lyrium, both on a plate of gelatin and under a microscope, accompanied by a series of descriptive notes.]_

_I’m going to let the lyrium grow a few more days, monitor its spread._

_The lyrium Templars take is alive when they ingest it. If those are spores I see, then that makes sense. Spores of fungus or other organisms can last for weeks or months dried out. But just because it is alive when they take it, doesn’t mean anything comes of it. They could digest the lyrium, extracting some chemical that gives them their powers. But I think it might be infecting them. If it is living inside of them, it would go further in explaining why Cullen is still having withdrawal so often. I know withdrawal can last for a long time, but something still seems off about it with him (which is ridiculous for me to think. I’ve never dealt with someone who is going through withdrawal before him). I don’t know, I might just be worried. But something tells me this isn’t a normal drug._

_I don’t know how I can test whether lyrium is alive inside of Templars. I don’t know where it would be living. Maybe it could be present in the blood. That’s likely where it would enter the body from the intestinal tract. Maybe I could ask a Templar about taking their blood to check. But I don’t know who to ask._

_I’ll keep thinking. Maybe there is another way. Saliva maybe._

_[There is a break in the entry.]_

_Dagna asked me to do the thing with the mana again. She had some runes she asked me to push the mana against. It lit up like a light when I touched one of them, and she got really excited. She says the Veil was what was moving, not mana. I’m not entirely sure what that means. She says she’d like to do more tests, but that I’ll probably get the best answers when Solas returns._

_28 Harvestmere 9:42_

_The lyrium grew even more on the plates. (on a side note, the UV light definitely worked to kill anything that had been on the plates before, because there was very little bacterial growth). No spores, just filaments at this point. Dagna has found the growth of the lyrium interesting as well. She says it reminds her of the way it is found underground. I would give anything to see that. I have the feeling the dwarves might know more about lyrium than anyone else. They must know, if they work with it so closely. I asked Dagna. She says I’ll have a hard time getting any dwarf who works with lyrium to talk. They like their trade secrets apparently._

_Emory came to the undercroft when I was ready to leave for the day. He didn’t say it, but he seemed upset. He wouldn’t stand still. Alec has apparently taken a turn for the worse. He is fevered and shaking and his cough won’t go away. He’s also constantly in pain. I didn’t know what to say. I don’t want Alec to be sick, but he has never accepted my help before, and I can’t forget what he said to me the last time I saw him. I gave Emory a couple of potions to try and give Alec, but he didn’t seem hopeful that it would work. I’m not either. I don’t know why Alec would suddenly change his mind._

_Before Emory left I asked if I could take a sample of his blood. He freaked out and yelled at me. He accused me of wanted to do blood magic. I tried to remind him that I’m not a mage, but I don’t think he’s ever believed that I’m not. He left furious. It was kind of scary._

_I can’t ask another Templar like that. I sometimes forget how antsy they can be about mages, especially when it comes to blood. I’ll need to wait for Cullen to return before I can move forward. He may not like it, but I don’t think he will be as angry as Emory. I’ll also make sure I tell him why I want the blood first. That was probably a mistake._

_I’ll just keep focusing on refining the gelatin recipes to maximize the growth of lyrium._

_I almost can’t believe it’s actually alive. I’ve thought it was for so long, but to see it is still strange. It’s actually kind of pretty, when I don’t think about what it could be doing to Cullen. Dagna’s been making sure I wear the gloves and mask she gave me, now that it’s been growing more. I need to be careful, I know how dangerous it can be._

_[A break appears in the entry.]_

_It’s getting a little easier to move the mana around. I experimented today with moving it differently, in thin streams, out in fan, pooling it in a single place. Dagna says she can almost see the Veil shimmering in places sometimes. I’ve decided to take it a little easier, until Solas returns. I don’t want to mess with the Veil. Dagna says it’s fine, but I want to be careful._

_29 Harvestmere 9:42_

_[A series of recipes start the entry, outlining the different ways to make gelatin for different purposes, along with notes about effectiveness and success of the different recipes setting into a solid gelatin.]_

_Emory came back today. Alec hadn’t taken the potions, and is apparently even worse. He’s definitely worried, especially since Alec won’t let any healer near him. He asked why I wanted his blood. I explained that I had found out that lyrium is alive when Templars take it. I told him that I think it might be alive inside of their bodies, and I wanted the blood of a Templar to see if I could see the lyrium there. He paced the undercroft for a while, clearly upset about that possibility. But he agreed to give me the blood. I suggested we find a mage to heal him, but he wanted to give it right there. So I gave him a vial and he cut his hand and got the sample._

_While he wrapped up the hand I prepared a slide to look at the blood with a stain. I saw the blood cells (which is good, to know that they look like my own cells). I also saw what were not blood cells. They were small, but they have a distinct nucleus. There were also what looked like the spores from before. Those could have come from him taking lyrium every day. And I don’t know what those other cells really are. I can’t be sure what this means._

_[What follows are a series of sketches of circular blood cells, as well as smaller, darker circles, and cells with small dark nuclei.]_

_I told Emory what I found, saying that I didn’t know for sure, but that it looked like there was lyrium inside of his blood. He pushed, and I said it might be alive, but I didn’t know. He left, not happy._

_I smeared some of the blood on some blood gelatin plates. If it was living lyrium in the blood, it should hopefully grow._

_30 Harvestmere 9:42_

_There was lyrium growth on the gelatin plate. There is clearly living lyrium inside of a Templar’s blood. I can’t know for sure, however, if it was growing from spores that had passed from the intestine into the blood stream, or if it was produced by lyrium somewhere inside his body. Either way, the implications are interesting._

_Lyrium gives Templars their abilities, and this suggests that maybe it’s because it is alive. Maybe the lyrium secretes a chemical that they somehow use. I don’t really know where to start with that sort of speculation. Magic is new to me. I don’t know how that works for mages. I can’t imagine how a chemical could give Templars their abilities._

_But I wonder what other things the living lyrium does. Cullen has mentioned that older Templar start to lose their memories. So even if they keep taking it, it can’t be good._

_And of course not taking it anymore is bad. I wonder how long it takes for their systems to clear out the lyrium. Maybe that’s why Cullen isn’t getting much better. There could still be remnants of the lyrium he took months ago in his system. I’ll need to check his blood when he gets back._

_1 Firstfall 9:42_

_It was Satinalia today, the first day of winter. The fortress is pretty empty, but the Orlesians present insisted on having a feast and celebration. It was small, from what I could tell, but they seemed happy. Dagna says gifts are usually exchanged. I’ll try to think of something to give Cullen._

_I took a break from research today. The stables needed attention, and Liberty was antsy, so we went on a ride. There’s not much left for me to do until Cullen returns._

_2 Firsfall 9:42_

_[The page is spattered with a few stains, as if spattered with water.]_

_Alec died today. Emory came and told me. He said Alec started coughing up blood. He was dead before a healer or mage could show up._

_I feel guilty. I know that this wasn’t my fault. Alec needed to be taken off lyrium. But maybe it should have been done differently. I knew he was sick. I should have insisted he be moved from the dungeons. Something. I don’t know if it was the lyrium, but I feel like he got sick because of the withdrawal._

_I don’t know what this means for Cullen. He had a cough just a few days ago. I thought maybe it was going away, but what if it isn’t? What if he gets worse like Alec did? I know he’s further along with his withdrawal, hopefully past the worse, but he’s under so much stress. What if he gets sick? I wish I had gone along. He’ll hide anything that’s wrong from everyone there._

_3 Firstfall 9:42_

_I want to do an autopsy on Alec, before they burn his body. I realized it’s maybe the only chance I’ll have to see inside the body of a Templar. If the lyrium spores do get inside of them and grow, maybe I could find out where it is. The biggest problem is I don’t know how to do something like that._

_I went to the surgeon who’s in charge of getting him ready for burial, but she balked at the idea of me wanting to cut into a dead man. I tried to reason with her scientific side, and she was almost ready to agree, but then some Chantry sisters showed up and she backed down. I don’t know what to do. I wish someone in charge was here._

_Emory came back again. I don’t know why he keeps coming by. He said he had heard I went by Alec’s body, that I had asked to cut him open. He wasn’t angry, just curious. I told him what I wanted to do. He just nodded, then left._

_I know Alec was horrible, but he was Emory’s friend, for whatever reason. Emory doesn’t really seem that bad, and I know it must be hard to lose a friend like that._

_4 Firstfall 9:42_

_Apparently Emory was left behind to be in charge. Not the highest left back, but high enough. He convinced, or bullied, the surgeon into performing the autopsy._

_[What follows are a series of notes and drawings, detailing the appearance and condition of each organ as it is explored. Everything is normal, save the lungs and the last entry.]_

_It’s in the brain. She didn’t want to look, but I finally convinced her to cut into his skull. And the lyrium was there, blue filaments covering parts of his brain. She dug deeper, and it was thickest toward the center. I wish I knew more about the brain, and where different things are controlled. But I think the deeper parts of the brain control more basic functions, our basic emotions. It has to be important._

_I took some samples and preserved them in alcohol. I’ll need to look at them under the microscope and describe them in more detail._

_I need to think about this more. It’s not good. It’s worse than I expected._

_5 Firstfall 9:42_

_[This page is also spattered with stains from drops of water, and a few smeared words.]_

_Lyrium is alive. It’s made up of cells and it grows. Templars ingest living spores and cells of lyrium, and those living spores occur in their blood. And the spores are not just from taking the lyrium. It grows inside their bodies, and could be producing more spores._

_And it doesn’t just grow anywhere, it’s growing in their brains. Who knows what chemicals it’s releasing, what else it could be changing. No wonder Templar’s lose their memories as they get older, the lyrium might be infecting the part of the brain that controls memory._

_I don’t know why their bodies allow the infection, or why they don’t show the worst of the symptoms, like the aches and the pains, until after they stop taking it. It is withdrawal though. Perhaps the fresh lyrium is giving them something the stuff growing in their bodies can’t produce, so when they stop taking the fresh lyrium, that thing they are addicted to is gone._

_Perhaps their bodies do try to fight off the lyrium when they stop taking it. I don’t know why that would be though. Maybe there is something else in the fresh lyrium that somehow keeps their bodies from attacking the lyrium growing inside of them. I don’t know how to test any of these things though. It’s frustrating._

_Cullen must still have lyrium living inside of him. It has to be. That’s why his symptoms haven’t gone away. It’s why they got so much worse after he was exposed to the red lyrium. Something the red lyrium was giving off made his condition worse. It’s living in his brain, doing who knows what damage, and I don’t know what to do._

_I can try to help his symptoms as much as I want, but I don’t know what to do about that lyrium. It might never be gone, and it could hurt him forever. Just waiting to make him weaker until he gets sick and dies. Or his body could get rid of it. I just don’t know._

_I need to find a way to cure him, to get that lyrium out of him. But I don’t know how. ~~It might not even be possible~~._

_No. It has to be possible. There has to be a way. I’ll find a way to grow lyrium better on blood plates, and then I’ll treat it with herbs, and any other substance I can, to see what kills it. Lyrium is living. There must be something it is vulnerable to._

_I just want Cullen to come back. I need to tell him what I’ve found. After what happened to Alec, I don’t know what could happen to him._

_I need to hold him again._


	106. In Camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some NSFW bits toward the middle

Big thanks to [LadyDracarys](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDracarys) who let me use her OC Abner from her fic, [In Love, Serenity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8841850/chapters/20275030), for this chapter, and for help with writing her character! It was really fun to bring someone else's baby into my own world!

 

* * *

 

Cullen strolled through the camp, sweating slightly in the damp heat. He couldn’t understand why it was so hot this far south, when winter had just started. There had been reports of strange weather across Thedas ever since the Breach opened. The early spring in Skyhold, freezing in Sahrnia, and now a lengthy summer in southern Orlais.

It meant the leaves were still green and clinging to trees, and the underbrush was thick and difficult to fight through. At least the warmer temperatures meant his soldiers weren’t freezing, and they could spend less time chopping firewood and less resources on food to keep people warm.

People were everywhere, setting up tents, unloading wagons of supplies, stacking weapons and armor in stockpile ready for distribution. A line of people were still spilling into the forest, and they likely wouldn’t stop trickling in until sundown. Mages and healers were setting up stations for healing, and the horses were being seen to by Dennet and his stable hands. Cullen quickly looked away from the brown old man as he found himself seeking Naomi’s tall frame and brown head among them.

They were not ready yet, but by the next day he would be sending units into the forests after Corypheus’s red Templar army, hopefully putting an end to them, finally, after so many months.

Cullen approached the table where Leliana and Josephine had already gathered, taking the map he was handed from Leliana.

“My scouts have been mapping the forest,” she said with her Orlesian lilt. “There are few paths through the trees, but they have marked the easiest routes. A shallow river cuts through the forest a few miles north. It is where the bulk of Corypheus’s forces have been moving.”

“And Corypheus himself? Samson?”

“There has been no sign of them.”

Cullen frowned. He had expected the blighted magister and his general to have arrived. But perhaps it was a good sign. Corypheus had not yet found what he sought in the elven ruins scattered among the trees.

Cullen studied the crudely drawn map, mind racing through possible approaches to the battle. “The battlefield is spread too far,” he said, placing the map back on the table so the women could see. “There is no way to concentrate our attacks for maximum impact.”

“Morrigan believes they are searching the forests for this eluvian,” Leliana continued. “The red Templars have been pushing deeper each day. My agents have harassed them, slowed them down. But that meant driving them apart, where their numbers could be better handled.”

Cullen nodded. It had been their plan, after all, to slow the advance of Corypheus’s forces until they could arrive to stop him. But now they were here and so was Corypheus. “It’s time to start bringing them back together,” Cullen told Leliana. “Have your agents begin herding these far flung groups back here,” he said, indicating the area to their north, centered over the river. “Our troops will be better able to handle a more concentrated target. I’ll send some units out myself, to start squeezing them in. We don’t want any surprises coming at us from behind.”

Leliana nodded. “I’ll send out my runners immediately.”

Cullen turned to Josephine. “Any new developments from our allies?”

“Gaspard’s chevaliers should be here by tomorrow, and Celene arrived earlier today. She would like a chance to speak with you and her captains to coordinate battle plans.”

Cullen nodded, pleased. It would make the campaign easier on his own troops having the support of the Orlesian army and the returned chevaliers. He thanked the Maker Nassella had managed to bring these factions of Orlais back together before this point. He was starting to feel more optimistic about their odds.

“Is there anything else?”

Josephine fiddled with her ledger, then sighed. “Yes, there is one other matter.”

“Which is?”

She pursed her lips, then abruptly turned to walk away. “Perhaps I should just show you,” she said over her shoulder.

Cullen stared at what she had wanted him to see, not entirely certain he could believe his eyes. In front of him, coming down the path that had led them into the forest, was a line of trebuchets.

He turned to Josephine, realizing his mouth was hanging open. “What is this?” he asked.

Josephine shook her head slightly, though a small smile crossed her face. “I called for our allies in Orlais to respond to our needs in this battle with supplies, gold, or men. The Comtesse d’Argent sent these.”

Cullen looked back at the trebuchets, now closer and even larger, the tops of their arms brushing against the low hanging branches of trees. “Does she realize we are in a forest?” he asked.

“I am sure the Comtesse realizes the Arbor Wilds are forested.”

Cullen shook his head, then rubbed at his temples. “And what does she expect me to do with siege equipment in a forest?”

Josephine sighed. “I’m sure she expects you to use them.”

“She would have been just as helpful sending me… puppies,” Cullen grumbled. He looked at the trebuchets once more time then turned away. Orlesians. Absolutely useless, all of them.

“Yes, well, I am certain she meant well.”

“You can tell her it was a waste.”

“I can do no such thing,” Josephine said. “The Comtesse is a close ally of Celene. I will not insult her over a few trebuchets.”

A man in clothes far to fine for a remote forest and wearing a gilded mask approached, bowing to them both. “I am Belmont d’Argent, delivering this gift from my mother, the Comtesse d’Argent.” Cullen doubted this man, more a boy based on the tenor of his voice, had ever been outside his mansion in his life. He certainly hadn’t dressed as if he had, and he probably didn’t know the proper use for a trebuchet any more than his mother. “She hopes your Inquisition will put them to good use.”

“Thank you,” Josephine said, stepping in graciously where Cullen could not. “I am sure Commander Cullen will find a good use for them.”

Cullen shot an unbelieving glance at the Antivan woman, but she glared right back, with a look that suggested he should be polite, or suffer consequences. He could only imagine the number of teas she might make him attend in order to make up for any slight he caused the Comtesse.

So he turned back to the boy and attempted to wipe the frown from his face. “We will use them here, in our main camp,” he said. “Should the red Templars break through our front defenses, they will be invaluable for defending our base.” He had no intention of wasting energy lugging the things through the trees. He would find a spot for them and let them rot.

“Merci,” the boy, Belmont, said with another small bow. “My mother will be pleased.”

“Thank you,” Josephine said to Cullen once Belmont had left. “That is one less political wrinkle I will need to smooth out.”

Cullen got a better look at the trebuchets as they moved past. They looked brand new, and they really were as useful as a litter of puppies in this jungle. _At least puppies would grow into Mabari,_ he thought _._ “She would have been better off sending the money it took to build these.”

“We cannot always choose the aid we receive,” Josephine replied. “But please, cheer up Commander, I trust that a single Comtesse’s inability to send appropriate aid will not ruin us.”

Cullen let out a long sigh. It could be close. He was feeling more confident in the upcoming battle, but there was still much that could go wrong. “I hope not.”

 

\----- 

 

Cullen returned to his tent late, exhausted from the day of marching, followed by the set-up of the camp. But this exhaustion was not body permeating, and had not threatened to disrupt his ability to function during the entire day. He had finally been able to sleep, for days now, and it made his days significantly better.

And he had Naomi to thank for that. Removing the demons from his mind had not entirely removed the nightmares, but they had been sporadic ever since that night she found his dream, and nowhere near as terrifying or disruptive as they had been for years. He might wake with a start, but he always managed to fall back asleep.

It made being away from her just that much more painful. He wanted to tell her, show her how she had helped him. Apologize, again, for reacting the way he had. Instead, he found himself spending these new nightmare-free and pain-free nights alone.

He was still longing for her body next to his when he prepared to crawl into his bedroll. He always longed for her when they were apart, so used as he was to her presence, and his body responded to those memories of her, to the expectation he now seemed to have of her touch before falling into sleep.

He had never been one for pleasuring himself. When he was younger, yes, he had taken himself to hand, but privacy was sporadic in the dorms, and while that had not stopped many of the other men around him, Cullen had never been quite comfortable without privacy. After he moved to Kirkwall, there had been many years when any thoughts of sexual release were far from his mind.

That was now changed, and Cullen did not hesitate to unlace his breeches and remove his half-hard cock, wrapping his hand around the shaft and stroking until he was fully erect. He closed his eyes and brought an image of Naomi to his mind, naked and lying on their bed, her mouth parted to let past low moans of his name, her hand between her legs. He wondered if she might be in such a position even now, thinking of him while she pleasured herself, just as he thought of her while pumping his length. He wanted to know how often she did it, put her hand between her legs and worked at the center of her pleasure, her fingers growing wet with waves of her arousal, sank those fingers inside her sex to rub along the sensitive walls, imagining the whole time it was his hand there, or his tongue, or his cock…

Cullen bucked his hips, hand sliding from head to base. He gripped himself tighter and did it again, Naomi now straddling his hips, wrapped around his cock, riding him, rolling her own hips languidly at first, but quickly picking up pace. Cullen bit back a moan as be thrust into his hand, imagining instead the hot clench of Naomi’s sex around him, saw clear in his mind her breasts bouncing with every jerk of his hips, her nipples darkened and pearled in the midst of their love-making.

He circled his thumb over the head of his throbbing cock and groaned, pushed over the edge by the friction and fantasy. His body tensed and he spilled hot on his stomach, stroking his cock to prolong the pleasure. Eventually he softened, and he released himself, taking a moment to soak in the glow the exertion had left.

But he quickly grew cold, colder still because Naomi’s body was not pressed hot and similarly spent against him. She was not whispering her love in his ear. It was a release that left him empty instead of full, and Cullen was never entirely satisfied. He would not be satisfied until she was back in his arms.

As he cleaned himself up Cullen wondered if he had overreacted, if perhaps he shouldn’t have kept her from coming with them. They had met no red Templars along the way to the Arbor Wilds, and the main camp here in the woods would be well defended. Naomi could have been safe. He didn’t have to be alone.

But that was selfish. He had no delusions about the upcoming battle; things could go wrong, and this camp could be overrun. Even if they weren’t overrun they could be attacked. Naomi was better off not being there, no matter how much Cullen wanted her in his bed. He loved her far too much to risk her life for better sex before sleep.

He desperately wished to hear her voice though. He wanted, in those moments as he tried to drift to a nightmare-less sleep, the talking devices Naomi had once told him about from her world. With such technology it wouldn’t matter how far apart they were. He would still be able to hear her voice, tell her about the day, the journey, regale her with the story of the trebuchets, hear her laugh, hear of her own days spent in the mountain fortress. He could tell her he loved her every night.

But they weren’t in her world, they were in his. So he imagined all those things instead, and drifted into sleep.

 

\----- 

 

_He ran his hand over smooth skin, supple muscles clenching beneath the touch. She giggled and turned a smiling face toward him, bright blue-green eyes meeting his. “That tickles,” she whispered._

_He did it again and she giggled louder, back shying away from the touch. “Seriously Cullen,” she repeated through a laugh._

_But he didn’t want to stop, so he moved his hand from her back to her side, brushing his fingers along the dip of her waist, then up to her chest, skimming just over the swell of her breast, ending with his hand pushed into the crook of her arm. Her body jerked, a loud laugh falling out of her mouth, and he rose to his knees so he had better access her body to tickle, his other hand joining the fray._

_She rolled to her side, attempting to distance herself from his hands, pushing against him. She curled her knees toward her stomach, entire body shaking as she laughed. “Stop!” she cried through her giggling, hands grasping at his shoulders. “Cullen please!”_

_But he kept going, moving so he could straddle her body and pin her to the bed, running his hands over every sensitive inch of her body that he could, laughing himself at the way she was snorting and gasping, face pinched and teeth flashing white._

_And then a hand were flying toward his face, and Cullen was smacked across the cheek with the rogue limb. He sat up, ending his assault and bringing a hand to his face. “Oops,” Naomi gasped, her stomach still heaving beneath him. Then she laughed. “I’m sorry liefje.”_

_Cullen chuckled back, the slight smart already fading. “I suppose I deserved that.”_

_She continued to giggle, face radiating happiness as she looked at him. “Yes, you did.”_

_Cullen leaned down and placed a kiss on her laughing lips, smiling when her arms circled around his back, pulling his body down into hers. After a moment he pulled back and looked into her beautiful eyes, shining with joy._

_And he felt happy, and warm, and he thought his body might burst because of the love that filled him looking at her. Everything felt right, felt complete._

_“I love you Naomi,” he said._

_She reached to stroke his face. “I love you too.”_

_\-----_

 

Cullen woke well-rested and pain-free, his entire body buzzing with a soft warmth. He took a moment to stare at the ceiling of his tent, contemplating what had happened while he slept.

He’d had a dream. That in itself might not be significant, except for the fact that he didn’t dream. He had nightmares, but he didn’t dream.

But the night before he’d dreamt. Of Naomi.

Instead of demons and death, it had been Naomi in his mind. The dreams had been nothing special, just simple flashes of joyful moments, most not even memories, just times when they might be content and happy together. But for Cullen, it was huge. It was everything.

He hadn’t had a dream so good in years. He couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. It was impossible to even consider what it might have been about. Cullen felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he raised a hand to wipe it away, hand shaking slightly. His chest started to ache, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He needed Naomi there. He needed to pull her into an embrace and tell her what had happened, kiss her and thank her for bringing him such happiness, for loving him. It was not a coincidence that she had removed a demon from feeding off his mind, and days later he was dreaming of her instead, the Circle for once just a memory. It was not a coincidence that his first dream was of her.

Cullen sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, his body still longing for the woman who wasn’t there. For the woman who had fallen in love with him, despite his shortcomings, took it upon herself to find a way to alleviate his symptoms, even cure him, and fought for him at every turn. This woman who he loved, more deeply than he had ever loved anyone, and was too far away for him to tell her.

He missed Naomi so much, with every fiber of his being. It was almost painful to consider how much longer it would be before they were together again.

Even more painful when he considered the possibility that he might never see her again. He was preparing to enter battle, and he knew he could die.

He had never feared death as much as he did in that moment. For the first time in years he had something in his future to anticipate, and someone to share that future with. And he couldn’t accept that he might die and leave her alone. Not after everything else she had endured.

Wanting Naomi reminded him of something she had given him, and he crawled to his bag to dig through its contents, until he found the small envelope she had pressed into his hand the morning he left, her eyes bright with unshed tears. He ran his hand over the slightly creased paper, remembering what she had said when they had parted. She had kissed him, desperate, then begged him to come back, to not leave her alone. Against his better judgement, he had promised. She had given him the letter then, telling him to read it when he needed to feel better.

Cullen ripped open the envelope, slipping the thick letter out and carefully unfolding it, eyes skimming Naomi’s rounded and slightly messy script. Then he settled back to take in her words.

_Cullen,_

_I couldn’t fall asleep after you dozed off, so I decided to write this letter, to make sure that even while we’re apart you have something to remind you of me. I’ve never written anything like this before, but I need to try. You know I love you. I tell you every day. But after tonight, I want to make sure that you understand just what having you in my life has meant for me, and that fighting doesn’t change how I feel about you._

_Being brought here was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I was mourning, not only my brother, but the loss of my entire life. I didn’t know yet that the rest of my family was dead, and at one point thinking of them, and knowing they would want me to fight, was the only thing that pulled me back to myself. I actually thought about dying, and that it might not be so bad. That was the only time that has ever happened to me, and it still hurts to think about it. I hate to think of how broken I was in those first few weeks._

_Not that things got much better after that. I’ve never been more lonely than I was in the first few months of being here. I made some friends, but aside from Nassella, I was terrified to get close to anyone. And I was still very lost. I loved working in the stables, but it wasn’t what I had imagined my life would be, and it was hard for me to imagine a future here.  All I could focus on was catching up, on learning enough to pass for a citizen of this world, and learning enough so I could survive without the Inquisition._

_There were also my dreams to deal with, and the fact that they terrified me, especially after Alec made his intentions known to me in Haven. Sometimes I think I should have died a long time ago because of the way I dream. It was only Solas that helped me through and kept me alive. I know you don’t really like the way I dream, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit sometimes feeling the same. I have found things to love about my dreams, but I know they are dangerous, and I wish that I didn’t always have to be so on guard. Sleeping next to you helps me feel less afraid, knowing that my body is safe._

_Looking back on all of this, I realize now just how much you helped me, even in the beginning. We didn’t know each other then, but ever since you brought my brother’s Bible back to me, I’ve felt that I could trust you. And even though we didn’t talk, I think part of me always knew that if I really needed help, if I was really in danger, you would not have hesitated to help me. You don’t know how much easier it made those first few months, knowing that you were in Haven, always just a few yards away from the stables._

_And all of that only grew once we came to Skyhold and we actually started to get to know each other. I think I started to fall in love with you that night you found me on the battlements and we looked at the stars. I hadn’t talked like that in so long, about the things that I love and had studied on Earth. I had accepted that I might never talk about those things again, and then you showed up and listened to me. I felt more like myself that night than I had in a long time, and because of you, I realized that maybe I didn’t have to give up everything I loved just because I was in this new world._

_We kept talking after that, mostly because I was teaching you some English, but I looked forward to those few hours I spent with you every week more than anything else. It was awkward sometimes, but I still loved it because I felt safe, and because I could be myself. You laughed when I tried to tell jokes, and I guess I laughed back at yours. And playing chess was so much fun, even if I’m a terrible player (I’m still not sure why you kept agreeing to play with me. I really am so bad, haha)._

_You became one of my best friends last winter. Though I didn’t really think it would be anything more until that day you threw your lyrium kit. After we talked I realized you wanted to kiss me, and I’ll admit it was terrifying. I thought about running away, like I’ve always done in the past. But even after what had happened with Alec (or maybe especially because of what had happened), I knew I couldn’t let this chance by. In you I saw someone I trusted, who allowed me to be myself, and who had been there for me, on more than one occasion, to be sure I didn’t get myself killed in this new world. I finally found the courage to try and move past everything that had happened to me, and I don’t think I could have done that with anyone but you. And I couldn’t have asked for someone more understanding, more patient and gentle when it came to dealing with my past. If nothing else, I will love and thank you for the rest of my life for what you gave me, for what you allowed me to find in myself. Physical intimacy was always something I wanted, and it was because of you that I have been able to experience it, in so many ways. A year ago I would not have imagined spending a night like the one we just had._

_Learning about your struggles with lyrium also gave me new questions to find answers for. I know that you can endure anything it throws at you, because you are one of the strongest and dedicated people I have ever met, but I hope that I have been able to help you, even if in just some small way. And seeing this problem, and with the confidence you give me to pursue my interest in science, led me to working with Dagna to make a microscope and return to research. Having a purpose like this again, something to work toward, is more important than I can adequately put into words._

_This has already gotten longer than I expected, so I will try to wrap it up. I’m not entirely sure why I wrote out everything that has happened to me over the last couple of years, but now I can see more clearly just how much you have changed my life. Yes, coming to Thedas was horrible, but at every step you have been there to make it better, to push me forward so that I could find a way to make a life here. Even if it was just being a presence that I could count on for my own sense of security, to bigger things, like holding me and letting me cry when I found out my family had died in the Fade, or kissing me when I had finally let my cousin’s actions hold me back long enough, you have shown compassion and understanding and love that I needed._

_I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, Cullen. You have always been there, and I know I wouldn’t be where I am now without you. I wouldn’t be the person I am now without you. You are one of the kindest people I have ever met, and one of the strongest. I am in awe of what you overcame after your time in the Circle, and that even if it took time, you decided to return to the good person you have always been. You make me want to fight for my life here, to fight to make it better for both of us, and for everyone else. I will miss you every day that you are gone, and will probably think about you constantly. I can’t help worrying that you won’t return, but I will pray and hope for it to happen with all my heart._

_So please, stay safe, and come back to me. It hurts right now, in my chest, to even imagine that you won’t. It’s entirely selfish, but I don’t want to lose any more people that I love._

_You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, in either world I have ever known._

_With all the love I can give,_

_Naomi_

 

Cullen let the letter fall into his lap with slightly trembling hands, amazed he had managed to finish at all with the way his eyes were spilling tears down his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes for the tenth time, drawing in a few deep breaths to calm the racing of his heart.

He had been crying nearly from the beginning, from the moment he had read about her thoughts of dying during those early days back in Haven. He had worried about her then, he knew, but knowing now just how deep into mourning she had fallen, he wished he had tried to do more for her. She was a stranger then, but part of him felt that he should have realized what she would one day mean to him, and fought to make her grief and transition into her new world easier.

But it was foolish to think like that. He had been focused on his work, on the task of building an army from nothing. It was no surprise he had paid little attention to a random woman, even if she was from another world.

How things had changed, over these years. Naomi was now more important to him than any other person in the world. Her well-being was more important to him than his own.

And he was the same to her. He knew he was the first man she had opened herself to, and that he made her feel safe. But he hadn’t realized that he was part of the reason she had returned to her studies, that because of him she had been inspired and confident enough to take up research again. It was perhaps what he found most satisfying about her letter, that he had not only helped her move forward, but that he had helped her be the person she already was.

It was so similar to how he felt of her. She inspired him and encouraged him to move forward, to keep to his course to leave lyrium behind and forge a new life free of the Templars. But she had also reminded him of who he was before the lyrium and the fall of the Circle. Someone who was happy, who was optimistic about the future, who saw the world as a place filled with hope, with light, with a promise that things could be better.

Yet she accepted him as he was, even when he failed. She said he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Cullen felt just the same, and he realized, looking at her words, wishing even more desperately that they weren’t so far apart, that there was no reason for him to continue to wait.

He wanted to marry her.

He had felt it for a while, this growing surety that Naomi was the woman he should marry. But he had put off the thought, and therefore any decision, making excuses about wanting to ensure she would have a future, make sure that he could promise he would be there.

But he no longer wanted to wait. Should he survive this battle, he needed to be sure that Naomi understood that he wanted her in his life just as she wanted him. That he was ready to devote himself to her forever. If he waited for a perfect time, when the world was entirely at peace, it would likely never come. He had already nearly lost her more than once. He didn’t want to wait any longer.

Cullen looked back down at the letter, heart starting to race again. This was it, his waiting was over. He had met the woman he was going to marry, and he was going to ask her.

 

* * *

 

James felt a small wave of relief when the camp came into view, and he adjusted the body he had draped over his back. He stepped over the last few roots until he was free of the trees, dodging a horse that was being led around the edge of the camp. The rest of James’s unit started to disperse, and he made his way toward the healer’s tent, the man on his back groaning slightly.

“Don’t worry Denis, we’re almost there.”

The man groaned again. “Took you long enough.”

James shook his head. The man had been irritable since the night before, ever since James had hoisted him on his back to carry him back to camp. Not that the man had been especially cheerful before his leg had been bent and broken during their last skirmish with red Templars, but he’d been especially insufferable afterwards.

“We walked all night to get you back,” James said, ducking inside the tent.

“Not fast enough,” Denis moaned as James slipped him off his back to the floor. Denis’s leg was bloodied and James realized, guiltily, still bent slightly out of shape. One of the healers joined James at Denis’s side, shooting James a small smile.

“Back again I see,” the woman said. James shrugged and the woman chuckled. “You never seem to need any healing. Not even a scratch.”

“I’ve been lucky I guess,” James said.

“Or good,” another women’s voice added from across the tent, in a thick accent James had never heard before. He glanced over his shoulder to see a petite woman with bronze skin and long dreaded hair having her hand looked at by a mage. She gave James a sly smile. “You travel with the Inquisitor. That means yer good.”

James cleared his throat. The dark geometric tattoos covering the woman’s face did nothing to hide how beautiful she was. He wasn’t often distracted by a pretty face, but something about the way this woman was smiling at him made him feel… warm.

“Yeah, I work with Nassella,” he told her. “But that doesn’t mean I’m good.”

“Not many people work with her,” the woman with tattoos said. “Either you know how to fight, or yer sleeping with her, and since I’m pretty sure she’s sleeping with that bald elf, I’m gonna say you know how to use those muscles of yers.” That statement was followed by a generous sweep of her brown eyes over his body, covered in armor, dirt, and blood as it was.

James desperately hoped he wasn’t flushing red. He was pretty sure the woman was just joking, and that she couldn’t really know how he felt about Nassella, but he didn’t like how close she was getting to the truth of his feelings. “Yeah, I know how to use them,” he told her.

She smirked. “I bet you do.”

Before James could process exactly what she meant with that comment, the healer inspecting Denis was pulling on his arm to get his attention. “Quit your flirting and help me straighten his leg.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” James mumbled. But he moved to hold down Denis’s shoulders so the healer could set the broken bone.

Denis cried out in pain the moment his leg was touched, and thrashed out with his good leg, forcing the healer to retreat. “You need to stay still,” James told the man.

“It fucking hurts!” Denis yelled.

“Of course it hurts,” James said through gritted teeth. “But we still need to straighten it.”

When Denis couldn’t keep still during the next attempt, James seriously thought about knocking the man out. “Let me help,” the tattooed woman said, now healed. She grabbed the man’s good leg and nodded at the healer. With a few tugs, the bone was straightened, Denis screaming profanities the entire time.

James was glad to get out of the tent, away from Denis and his complaints. He knew he couldn’t entirely blame the other man; his leg was badly broken, after all. Still, he figured the man might be better at keeping the pain better contained.

“Should have shoved a stick in his mouth for him to bite on,” the tattooed woman said as she followed him out of the tent. “My ears are still ringing.”

James chuckled. “His leg was broken pretty bad.” He looked down, surprised at just how short she was. The human woman was barely taller than Nassella, though he could tell she was packed with muscle. This close, he could see the dark metal ring that looped through the septum of her nose.

The woman scoffed. “I’ve had worse injuries after a turn in the sheets.”

James frowned. “Really? That shouldn’t be… painful.”

The woman laughed. “It can if yer doing it right.” James didn’t know what to say to that, though he was sure she must be joking, at least a little. She laughed again. “So you heading out on another patrol?”

“Not until tomorrow,” James told her.

She grinned. “Perfect.” Then she walked away with a wink, hips swaying slightly as she did.

James rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t intended to flirt, but she certainly had been. He watched her disappear behind a tent, staring at the swing of her ass the entire way.

Maybe he _should_ have tried to flirt back.

But they were in the middle of a war camp. It wasn’t really the most appropriate time to try and pick up a woman for a night. He didn’t even know where they would go.

He went to find Cullen and give him a report on the mission. The blonde man was leaning over a map, surrounded by scouts and officers, just as he had been every day since they had arrived. James joined them around the table, Cullen giving him a small nod to acknowledge his arrival.

“Our attacks are working. The red Templars have been steadily moving toward the river valley. Tomorrow we will begin our sweep, before they can reach that temple deep in the forest in force. Start putting into place your plans for the assault.”

The scouts and officers trickled away, and Cullen stood tall, placing his hand on the pommel of his sword. “You’re back,” he said, giving James a small smile. “How was the sweep?”

“It went as planned. We actually destroyed the entire camp and all the red Templars that were there. No casualties, though we had one broken leg and a few flesh wounds. Everyone should mend just fine though.”

“Good, good,” Cullen said, moving a few metal pieces on the map. “Any sign of Samson or Corypheus?”

“We didn’t see them,” James said. He pulled a scrap of paper from his belt and handed it to Cullen. “But we found these orders from Samson to the men in the camp. He’s out there somewhere.”

Cullen glanced over the paper, frowning. “Yes, he’s here…” He looked back at the map, shaking his head slightly. “But nowhere we have been.” He moved a few more pieces. “He must be deeper in the forest then, where we haven’t been able to reach.”

“We’ll find him when we start pushing deeper in tomorrow.”

“Yes, I imagine we will,” Cullen said, standing straight again. “Thank you James. Take the night off. Once we attack tomorrow, it will be some time before you will have a chance to sleep, much less relax.”

“Will do,” James said, turning to walk away.

“Wait!” Cullen called after him. James looked back at the older man, who had started to blush, and was rubbing at the back of his neck. “I had a… question,” he said.

James stopped. “Yeah?”

Cullen kept rubbing at his neck, staring back at the map. “It’s about a custom from your world.”

“Ok…” James responded, returning to the table. “What kind of custom?”

“This is… personal,” Cullen continued, avoiding James’s question. “And I would appreciate it if you kept this between us.”

“Sure,” James said, wondering why Cullen seemed so nervous.

“Right,” Cullen said. Then he took a deep breath and dropped his hand to his side. He met James’s gaze. “How would a man ask a woman to marry him on your world?”

James felt his mouth drop open. “Marriage?”

Cullen started to turn bright red. “Yes, I… intend to ask Naomi to marry me, and I wanted to do it in… a way that she would recognize. So if there is something specific I should say, something I should do, I would like to know.”

It took a moment for James’s thoughts to clear from the shock, during which Cullen shuffled nervously. “You… want to marry Naomi?”

Cullen stopped his shuffling, and a small smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “Yes.”

“Wow,” James said, leaning his hands against the table. Cullen wanted to marry his sister. His sister was going to marry Cullen. Cullen was going to be his brother-in-law…

“I hope that will not be a problem,” Cullen said. He had started to look worried.

“No, no of course not,” James said, realizing that his reaction was not exactly ideal, that he was coming across as upset. “I was just surprised. I think this is great. I’m happy for you guys.”

And he was. Naomi deserved to be happy. She deserved to be with someone like Cullen. Someone who clearly loved her.

“Good,” Cullen said, relaxing. “So… what do I do?”

James wondered why Cullen was wanting to do this now, when he was preparing for battle. Though, James realized it was probably _because_ they were preparing for battle.

“Well, first you’ll need a ring.”

 

\-----

 

James found himself relaxing by a fire that night, sitting next to Bull, the rest of the Chargers scattered around, along with an assortment of people he didn’t recognize. They’d long since finished the stew that had been kept warm by the flames, and were now just enjoying the company of friends before they entered one of the largest fights of their lives.

“Ready for tomorrow?” James asked Bull.

The giant Qunari chuckled. “I’ve been ready for days. No more of these tiny skirmishes, I’m ready to get my axe stained with some red Templar blood.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” James said.

“You feel different?”

James took a deep breath. “I’m ready to destroy these bastards and stop Corypheus. This is how we have to do it, so I guess I’m looking forward to that.”

Bull chuckled again. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to that too. But you might as well enjoy the fighting along the way.”

“Yeah, I guess,” James responded, watching the pulsing glow of the embers in the fire. He didn’t think he would ever enjoy fighting as much as Bull did. The Qunari relished every battle, every kill that he made. James could never love it like that, but he did appreciate the rush of adrenaline that came with every altercation, when he got into the flow of battle, and let his training and instincts take over. It felt natural now, after so many months, and he enjoyed that feeling. The feeling that he was good at something, that he could contribute.

“You know that woman?” Bull asked.

James looked away from the fire, his night-vision thrown a little off. “What?”

“There,” Bull said, pointing his chin across the fire. “She’s staring at you.”

James followed the gesture, and saw across the fire the tattooed woman from earlier that day, her dark eyes fixed on him. When he met her gaze she smirked, then stood and started making her way around the fire. James hadn’t even noticed her arrive.

“So… you know her?” Bull asked again.

“I met her earlier,” James said, watching her as she got closer, still grinning.

The woman reached them and abruptly turned, squeezing into the seat between Bull and James on the log. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said, looking up at James through her eyelashes.

“Same,” James replied. He tried to smirk back. She really was very beautiful. “I’m James,” he told her. “I don’t think we exchanged names earlier.”

“Abner,” she replied, smiling a little broader. “I was hoping to run into ya tonight.” She moved her leg, pressing it into his. James felt his face flush. And the rest of his body.

“And why was that?” he asked her.

Abner’s smirk was nothing short of mischievous. “I wanted to see these… muscles of yers in action.”

James flushed a little more. He knew what she was getting at, but didn’t know how to respond. “Well, you’d be better of waiting until tomorrow, when the fighting starts,” he decided to go for, steering the conversation away.

“Oh, I think we could find some way to use them tonight.”

“I don’t know, it’s dark…,” he said, still a little surprised that this beautiful woman was flirting with him.

Abner laughed, then placed her hand above his knee, squeezing slightly. She turned toward Bull. “Is he always this thick?”

Bull chuckled. “When it comes to his… muscles, yes.”

James glared at Bull, but the Qunari just winked. Abner’s hand moved a fraction higher, and James felt blood start to rush toward his groin. He spread his legs a little wider to relieve the pressure, which just brought the limb in closer contact to hers.

He knew exactly what Abner was talking about. He just wasn’t sure it was what he wanted. Though his cock would disagree, the way it was half-heartedly starting to strain against his breeches in interest.

“I know what you’re… I’m not thick,” James told the Qunari. Bull snorted and Abner laughed.

“Something tells me that’s not true,” she snickered.

James flushed even more, realizing immediately what his statement sounded like. “That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled, staring back at the fire. He had failed spectacularly at turning the conversation elsewhere.

Though… he didn’t really mind. He liked the sound of Abner’s laugh.

“Course not,” Abner said, still laughing.

“No need to be modest James,” Bull said. “I’ve seen your… muscles. Nothing to be ashamed of there…”

“For the love of… Bull!” James said loudly. “You don’t need to tell her that!” Abner was cackling.

“You could just show her,” Bull offered, still grinning.

James groaned, then made the mistake of meeting Abner’s gaze. She was smirking at him, her eyes burning with suggestion. Then she raised a single eyebrow higher, and dropped those dark eyes lower, landing for a second on his crotch.

And he wanted to show her. He wanted to spend that night with someone like her, lost in the pleasure of another person instead of fretting over the next morning’s battle. She certainly wanted the same.

Her eyes were glinting with amusement. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she said quietly, squeezing his leg again.

James wanted to say yes, but something in him hesitated. The one other time he’d gotten close to sleeping with another woman, he’d backed out at the very end, unwilling to find himself tangled with another like Mayra. He didn’t want someone else to get attached to him, when he wasn’t ready to do the same. “I’m… not sure,” he told her.

Abner sighed, then stood, stretching toward the sky, angling her ass toward his face. She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Right. Well, if you decide you don’t want to spend yer last night before ya might die alone, come find me.”

With that she walked away, backside still swinging enticingly.

“What are you doing James?” Bull asked before she was even out of the fire’s light.

“Nothing,” James said.

Bull let out a long breath. “Obviously. But why? You’re clearly into her.”

James ran his hand over his face. “I just… don’t want to hurt someone like I hurt Mayra again. It would need to be casual…”

“Mayra wasn’t looking for casual with you James. But you don’t need to worry about that with Abner. She just wants sex.”

“And how do you know that?”

“She basically told you,” Bull rumbled. “So if you want something casual, she’s a good bet.”

“I don’t know…”

“Go have fun James. She’s right, you know, you might not make it past the next few days. If you don’t want to be alone tonight, then don’t be alone.”

James looked back toward where Abner had disappeared. Bull was right, of course. Abner didn’t seem like she was looking for anything beyond a night of sex. James didn’t need to worry about finding himself in another Mayra situation.

He should go. He didn’t need to worry about hurting another woman because he wasn’t over Nassella, because this woman didn’t want anything beyond one night.

And James wanted to have fun. He didn’t want to be alone.

So he stood and left Bull behind, hurrying through the camp, until he saw the telltale dreads and short stature of Abner.

“Hey!” he called after her. “Abner!”

The woman stopped and turned toward him, smiling while she placed a hand on a cocked hip. “Change yer mind handsome?”

James grinned, allowing his eyes to travel down her body, slender, but packed with muscle. His hands itched to touch them, now that he had committed himself. “It’s hard to turn down a beautiful woman.”

Abner laughed, then reached to take his hand and dragged him through the camp.


	107. Vir'abelasan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh, not my favorite chapter. I'm afraid there's a lot of dialogue from the game, but this quest has so much important information packed in, so I went with it.

Nassella and her companions arrived at the main camp just before midday, sweaty and hot and a little exhausted. They had travelled quickly from Skyhold, but Cullen and the army had already been in the Wilds for several days, and by the scarcity of people moving around the camp, they had apparently already started the fighting as well.

She moved through the camp, searching for anyone who might point her in the right direction, give her an idea of what was happening deeper in the forests. In the near-empty camp it was easy to spot Josephine near one of the larger tents, still dressed in her characteristic bright clothing, though the fabrics were of a more durable quality.

“Inquisitor! You’re here!” the ambassador exclaimed when she caught sight of the elf hurrying toward her.

“Yes, finally,” Nassella responded, glancing down at the map spread over a make-shift table. The markers across the rough map were spread over what looked like miles deeper into the forest. “What’s happening here?”

“They have been fighting for two days, pushing deeper into the Templar forces in the forest. We are holding, badly. The red Templars are fighting harder than we anticipated, especially with Corypheus so near. Our scouts saw him travelling toward an elven ruin to the north.” The ambassador beckoned a passing captain over. “We must clear a path through the armies for the Inquisitor.” The captain nodded then ran off, eager to spread the news that the Inquisitor had finally arrived.

“Thank you Josephine,” Nassella said, pulling over a piece of parchment and a quilt to sketch out a map. From what she could tell, following the river through the forest would be their quickest route. “We will set out immediately. The quicker we can reach Corypheus to stop him, the quicker our soldiers can go home.”

“Andraste go with you,” Josephine said. Nassella looked up into her ambassador’s, her _friend’s_ , eyes, and saw they were bright with tears.

Nassella swallowed. She didn’t believe Andraste would be anywhere near her, but she knew that Josephine just wanted her to be safe. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She turned to return to her companions, nearly jumping in surprise when she found Morrigan standing directly behind her. “I didn’t realize you followed me,” Nassella said as she starting walking through the tents.

“I wonder,” Morrigan mused, ignoring Nassella’s surprise. “Is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?”

Nassella frowned. She did not like her title as Herald of Andraste; the thought of Andraste being removed entirely from people’s perceptions of her was even more unsettling. She had no interest in being raised near the level of the divine.

That would make things that much more painful if she fell.

“Thanks for the reminder of how much I’ll let people down if I fail,” she mumbled to the human mage.

“Twas not I who raised an army of the faithful to storm this land, Inquisitor,” Morrigan continued. They reached where the others had gathered, Solas, Dorian, Varric, and a more human Cole looking at her expectantly. Cole had been… a little out of sorts ever since their trip to the Hinterlands where he had confronted the man who had killed the real Cole. And Solas had been distant, and Nassella knew he was upset with her, even if he didn’t say it. “But I digress,” Morrigan continued. “If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal.”

Nassella raised her eyebrows. “Mythal?”

“An elven goddess—“

“I know who Mythal is,” Nassella interrupted, glaring slightly at the mage. “I’m just… surprised. I knew these ruins were elven, I just didn’t realize they might be hers…” She raised her hand to her face, running a finger over the dip in her chin, where the purple branches of Mythal spread.

This was even worse than the Temple of Dirthamen. Mythal was the All-Mother, their most important goddess. Nassella could not allow Corypheus to defile this sacred place. “We must stop him,” she said, turning her eyes toward the north.

“If Corypheus seeks her temple, then the eluvian he covets lies within,” Morrigan added. Nassella narrowed her eyes.

“You think?”

“A temple of this import would certainly contain one,” Morrigan insisted.

It didn’t matter, Nassella decided. Whatever Corypheus wanted out of this temple, he could not be allowed to gain it.

An explosion from the forest shook the ground, drawing everyone’s eyes toward the trees. A flock of birds flew overhead. “Let us hope we reach this temple before the entire forest is reduced to ash.”

Nassella thought it more likely the Inquisition’s armies would be destroyed before the forest, but Morrigan had a point. They had waited too long.

“Take five minutes to stock up on potions and supplies,” Nassella told her companions. “Then we’ll head in.”

 

* * *

 

James hadn’t been so tired since the battle at Adamant, and that battle had only lasted a night. They were on their third day of fighting, with only small breaks for restless sleep scattered through the night. They were holding, barely, and had been unable to break to the temple the red Templars were approaching. If they didn’t hurry, Corypheus would reach it before they could.

It wasn’t just the red Templars they were trying to fight through. There were Wardens as well, the last remnants of those who had been corrupted at Adamant. And there were reports of strange elves coming in from some of the other units fighting deeper in the forest. Those fighting them thought they were Dalish, but that didn’t make sense to James. Most other Dalish clans had allied with the Inquisition. At the very least they were not actively hostile. Though, if this clan was really that isolated, perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all.

James was holding a crucial spot along the river, part of a unit led by Cullen, when word reached them that the Inquisitor had arrived. That she was on her way. That they were to clear a path for her to the temple.

James’s heart started to race, faster than the fighting made it. He hadn’t seen Nassella in two weeks, and the moment he heard that she was coming he got excited. He wanted to see her, so badly.

Everyone started fighting with more fervor, with greater urgency once they knew the Inquisitor had arrived. Now that Nassella was here, they had hope that the end to this endless fight was as well.

When she finally arrived, in a storm of lightning and fire from the three mages she had with her, James remembered just how beautiful she was. He watched her dance around a red Templar horror before disemboweling the creature while it was distracted by a shot of lightning to its shoulder. When the monster fell to the river she looked for a new target. Her green eyes met his and a smile spread brightly across her face. James couldn’t help responding in the same way.

Nassella ran splashing through the river toward him, slicing the throat of a red Templar frozen by a blast form Solas’s staff on the way. She threw her arms around his waist when they met, letting out a small laugh. “Oh James, I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too,” James said, still smiling when she pulled back. She was the best thing he had seen in days.

“How’s it been going?” she asked, frowning slightly in worry.

James sighed. “It’s been hard, and I’m tired.” He looked back toward her group of companions. She had found Bull along the way, and Dorian, Solas, Varric, and Morrigan were also with her. “But I’m ready to fight by your side, if you want me.”

She looked around the river, which had been largely cleared of the red Templars thanks to her group’s arrival. Cullen was walking toward them, his sword and armor covered in blood.

“Can you spare James?” she asked the commander when he was close enough. “I could use him moving ahead. We left Cole behind to find injured soldiers.”

Cullen nodded. “Yes, take him. We can hold our position here. You need all the help you can to get to the temple before Corypheus.”

Nassella looked back at James and nodded. James grinned back, then followed her deeper into the forest.

 

* * *

 

It had been the hardest day of fighting Nassella could remember in a long while. Not only was the fighting grueling, but the humid forest with its thick underbrush made just moving forward a challenge, stray roots and thorn covered bushes always ready to trip a foot or scratch at the sensitive skin covering a face. It was no wonder even the red Templars had difficulty pushing through.

But they had managed to push through, ahead of the Inquisition. Once they passed their own front line, Nassella quickly realized they would never make it to the Temple before Corypheus if they tried to clear out every red Templar they met. So they adopted a stealthier approach, and avoided as many of the red crystalline monsters as they could. It made the strain of fighting easier, but the forest was just as thick and unforgiving.

They were getting themselves surrounded, Nassella knew, but it had to be done. Someone had to go ahead to keep Corypheus from acquiring whatever he sought in the temple, and she and her companions were the best equipped to stop him. They would worry about getting themselves out when Corypheus was foiled.

After another hour, maybe two, of furtively moving through the trees, they came to larger wall, and an archway through that wall. Imagery invoking Mythal covered the vine-covered stones, and Nassella knew they had arrived. She only hoped they were not too late.

Carefully they moved down the passageway cutting through the enormous barrier, Nassella’s ears perked for any hint that they had been discovered, and would find themselves overrun by red Templars in the narrow passage. But they reached its end with no incident, though Nassella found herself stepping over a number of fallen red Templars, wondering why they were dead. No one from the Inquisition had come this far.

Her question was answered when they exited the passage. They were on a balcony, and voices drifted from the landing below. Nassella crept forward with Morrigan, peeking through the railing next to the slumped body of a red Templar, heart racing when she saw Corypheus and Samson below, along with a contingent of red Templars and Wardens, facing a line of the armor-clad elves they had been encountering the entire way through the forest. The elves were guarding the entrance to the length of a long bridge, spanning a chasm Nassella could only begin to imagine the extent of, a large building overgrown with trees located on the other side. The temple proper.

“Na melana sur, banallen!” one of the elves shouted from the bridge, raising a spear threateningly toward Samson as the dark-haired man approached. It was elven, but a dialect Nassella could not fully understand. She thought perhaps the elf was suggesting Corypheus’s time had ended.

But the darkspawn magister just laughed, and Samson stepped even closer. “They still think to fight us master.”

“These are but remnants,” Corypheus said. “They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.”

Nassella frowned. He did not mention an eluvian. She glanced toward Morrigan. “Well of Sorrows?” she mouthed. The mage just shrugged, shaking her own head in confusion.

So it wasn’t an eluvian Corypheus wanted, he wasn’t just using another word for the giant mirror. But just because Morrigan was wrong didn’t mean what Corypheus sought was any less important. If anything, it might be even more threatening, this Well of Sorrows could contain something even more dangerous to the safety of the world.

Nassella scanned the landing below as Corypheus continued to approach the bridge. They had to stop him before he entered the temple, and this was their best chance, when the red Templars were focused on the other elves. Nassella ran her hand over the outline of the rune meant to disable Samson’s armor in the pouch on her belt. She didn’t like the odds of facing Corypheus and his general at the same time, but they needed to try, and removing Samson’s armor would get them one step closer to an even match. Perhaps the elves would assist them, as they clearly didn’t want Corypheus to enter the temple any more than she did. Nassella glanced over her shoulder, wishing she had brought more people with her. It would be a brutal fight, and her heart sank when she realized they would likely not all make it out.

And then there was a flash of light that tore Nassella’s eyes back to the bridge, and she watched in awe and fear as Corypheus was engulfed by streams of energy pouring from the carved pillars guarding the entrance to the bridge. Her eyes grew wide as Corypheus stepped forward, the light stretching with him. For one horrible second she thought he was going to break free, her heart pounding against her chest as she hoped and prayed that he would be stopped, that the magic of these elves attempting to guard this temple would hold.

And then everything exploded.

Her ears were still ringing when she recovered enough of her vision to look once more at the landing below, noting the increased number of bodies scattered across the stones, no living thing left moving.

Corypheus was gone.

Nassella stood slowly, watching as a few red Templars, Samson among them, raced across the bridge. But most of them had died in the blast.

And Corypheus was gone.

Stunned, heart pounding in her ears, Nassella hopped over the railing to the platform below, picking her way slowly over the fallen Wardens, elves, and red Templars, looking for signs that any had survived, looking for signs that the magister had really been destroyed. Nothing moved, and there was no sign of Corypheus among the bodies.

He might really be gone.

“Did anyone see what happened to him?” Nassella asked, her voice shaking slightly. “What happened to Corypheus?”

“He was ripped apart,” James said, the man walking closer to the bridge, cautiously inspecting the charred spot on the stones where the darkspawn had last been seen. “The explosion tore his body to shreds.” His voice was quiet, a little hollow. He was just as shocked as her, his hand clutched around the hilt of his sword.

Nassella closed her eyes, her body starting to shake, her stomach roiling. After everything, after years of fighting, chasing Corypheus and his plans across the world, building an army and connections so that they had the power to face him and stop his insane plans to enter the Fade and claim the power of a god, it was over in a single explosion.

Corypheus was gone.

Samson still lived, and Nassella knew they needed to follow him, but the worst had passed. Once their leaders were gone, the red Templars would surely scatter, would fall under the Inquisition’s swords.

It was over.

She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open, meeting the gaze of James when she did. He was still shocked, his eyes opened wide. A glance toward Varric revealed everyone was in some stage of shock or disbelief, still processing what had happened.

Something scratched across the ground behind her, and Nassella turned around, a hand on a dagger to face whatever enemy had not perished in the explosion. But instead of stumbling to his feet, the Warden behind her started to rise unnaturally into the air, somehow independent of his arms or legs.

But Nassella didn’t realize something was terribly wrong until the man started to vomit blood, the dark red liquid spewing from his mouth in a violent stream. She started to stumble back, watching in horror as the body started to glow, the limbs morphing and growing, hands turning into claws…

“It cannot be!” Morrigan cried.

Nassella thought she might vomit. With violent twists and jerks the Warden’s body continued to transform, the sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones sending Nassella’s racing heart toward a panic. She nearly tripped over the body of a red Templar as she tried to distance herself from the horror in front of her, the truth of what was happening hitting her before the transformation was complete.

Corypheus wasn’t dead.

And then there was a shriek from the forest behind them, the cold, chilling sound all too familiar to Nassella’s ears.

“Across the bridge, now!” she screamed, turning and running with the longest strides she could muster. Running away from the monster morphing from the dead Warden’s body, and from the monster that was winging its way over the forests of the Arbor Wilds.

S _tupid, stupid!_ She cried to herself as she sprinted over the ancient stones, toward the open doors to the temple that offered some semblance of safety. _How could I think this was really over…?_

Varric and Hawke had tried to kill Corypheus once before. It had failed then, and it had failed now. There was nothing they could do to stop him…

She passed through the giant doors and skidded to a halt, running back toward the back of the doors with ragged breath and a stitch in her side. She slammed herself against the mosaicked door, her feet sliding against dusted stones while the others thundered into the building. James slid through last, and joined her at the door, next to Solas, finally forcing the door to move while the dragon’s shriek rang louder. A memory of Haven’s Chantry flashed through her mind.

The doors slammed shut, then shuddered an instant later as the dragon threw its red lyrium flames toward them. The force sent Nassella flying back across the floor, and she thought for a moment that the doors would not hold.

And then they glowed with the same yellow light that had engulfed Corypheus, a wash of warm magic passing through the room as the doors settled in their frame, locked shut.

Nassella still felt like vomiting, and it took her another moment to calm the racing of her breath enough to attempt standing, another moment still to bring the shaking of her limbs under control.

She didn’t know how long those doors would hold. The elves magic was clearly powerful, but it had not been powerful enough to kill Corypheus. She did not trust it would be strong enough to keep him out for long.

“How the fuck is he still alive?!” James yelled, staggering away from the door, eyes wild, sword gripped tightly in his right hand. “He blew up! His body was gone! He was dead!”

“His life forced passed on to the Grey Warden,” Morrigan said, looking a little frazzled herself. “I suspect he could pass to any blighted creature again.”

Solas shook his head. “Then Corypheus cannot die. Destroy his body, and he will assume another.”

“Fuck!” James muttered. “Dit is gewoon verdomde goed. Deze verdomde plaats en neuken magie...” Morrigan frowned, watching James as he continued to mumble in his native language, clearly trying to discern what he was speaking.

But they didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time to try and figure out exactly how Corypheus had survived, for James to fall apart, or for Morrigan to figure out James was from a distant land. They needed to move.

She couldn’t stay still any longer.

“Let’s go,” Nassella said, forcing her feet to move, to carry her deeper into the temple. “Let’s find this well before Corypheus’s people do.” Whatever it was.

 

* * *

 

_Find the well. Find the well before Samson does. Just find the well…_

James ran after Nassella deeper into the temple, overgrown with verdant vegetation glimmering in the light of the early evening sun, repeating those words over and over again. He forced himself to focus on their mission, on the task they needed to accomplish instead of Corypheus, and the way the dead Warden’s body had twisted and morphed as the magister reformed from… death.

He had seen many horrible things during his time in Thedas, but James knew that would count as the worst for the rest of his life.

_Just find the well. Stop Samson. Corypheus can’t win if he can’t get this well…_

They exited the passage they were running through, and James felt his heart skip, seeing the wide open sky above them. The temple was falling apart, and the outer areas seemed to be nothing more than large, elaborate courtyards. For a moment they stood, listening and waiting, but there was no flap of wings, no shrieks from the approaching dragon. Hopefully, whatever magic protected the door also protected the sky above.

Nassella was the first to jump down, leading the group across the courtyard. A large staircase rose a couple hundred meters ahead, another giant pair of doors at their top. There was no sign of Samson and his people.

Nassella ran ahead, cutting straight across the courtyard toward the door. She made to pass over a raised platform, a large pillar at its center, but the moment her feet touched the tiles, they glowed. She stepped back, arms raised slightly in surprise.

“It appears the temple’s magicks are still strong,” Morrigan said, joining Nassella on the platform, testing the tiles herself with a cautious foot.

“What is it for…?” Nassella asked, turning her head toward the pillar in front of her. “It looks like… ancient elven. I can’t make out much.”

“Atish’all vir abelasan,” Solas said, joining Nassella by her side. “It means ‘enter the path of the Well of Sorrows’.” Nassella turned toward Solas and gave him a small smile, grateful for the help.

Morrigan took another step forward. “There is something about knowledge. Respectful or pure. Shiven, shivennen… ‘Tis all I can translate. That is mentions the well is a good omen.”

“Any idea what the Well could be?” Nassella asked the two by her side. “Obviously Corypheus doesn’t want an eluvian.”

“I… am uncertain of what it refers to,” was all Morrigan could offer.

Nassella sighed. “Well, it was obviously important, and we must keep Corypheus away.”

“Indeed,” Morrigan agreed. She studied the tiles at their feet again. “Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here.” She pointed toward the large doors. “Following their path may aid entry.”

Nassella frowned. “Path…” She took a step, the large tile lighting up again. She stepped over, a second tile glowing when her feet made contact. Nassella returned to the first and both went dark.

Her eyes quickly scanned the platform, and James could see the path she needed to take even before she started to move. Quickly Nassella danced around the pillar, leaving a trail of glowing tiles wherever her feet landed, returning full circle to Solas and Morrigan, the entire platform alight.

A warm glow spread from the activated tiles on a soft wind, and James watched as the doors atop the giant stairway lit with the same light. “Cool,” he whispered. If only all magic was so harmless. And despite everything that had happened that day, Nassella smiled.

“This is where petitioners would pay fealty to the gods,” Solas told her, a small smile turning up his own lips at her enthusiasm. “I have seen it. In the Fade. Only the reverent were permitted to touch this ground, and only in solemn contemplation.”

Nassella’s smile faltered, her brows coming together in a frown. “Come on,” she said, once more hurrying forward. “Before they get any further ahead. We need to stop them.”

They finally caught a glimpse of Samson through those doors, as the man and his Templars jumped through a large crack in the temple’s floor. A group of them stayed behind. When the Templars were dead, Nassella ran toward the edge of the crevice. But Morrigan sprinted ahead and cut her off, raising a hand to slow her advance. “Hold! A moment,” the mage said.

“What is it?” Nassella asked, shoulders still heaving from the fight. “We need to catch them!”

Morrigan shook her head. “While they rush ahead, stumbling through this temple, that door leads to our true destination,” she said, pointing toward the large set of doors across the courtyard, like the one they had just passed through. “We should walk the petitioner’s path, as before, and therefore reach the Well long before they do.”

James frowned. It was ridiculous to stop now, when they were so close to Samson. Why would Morrigan want to get to the Well…?

Bull scowled, clearly agreeing. “Everyone outside is fighting and dying while we’re in here. We need to end this. We don’t have time for this.”

Nassella placed her hands on her hips, closing her eyes and frowning. “But if Corypheus wants the Well… if we can get there first, then we _can_ end this…. Morrigan might be right…”

Solas stepped forward, brushing his arm against Nassella’s body. “In this case, I must agree with the witch. This is ancient ground, deserving of our respect.”

Nassella opened her eyes and glanced up at Solas, nodding slightly.

“You see the urgency,” Morrigan said, stepping toward Nassella, gesturing toward the door. “We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.”

James didn’t like the way Morrigan was pushing Nassella toward the door, toward the Well. If they followed Samson and caught him, it wouldn’t matter if they reached the Well first or not. “Why are you so eager to reach the Well?” he asked Morrigan. The mage turned her yellow eyes toward him, her glare severe.

“Are we not all eager to stop Corypheus from achieving his mad plan?”

“Of course,” James said, crossing his arms. “But we can do that by catching Samson. It just seems like you… want the Well yourself.”

“Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored. That cannot happen if we do not reach it first.”

“What power?” Nassella asked Morrigan, back to frowning.

Morrigan lifted her chin slightly. “I read more in the first chamber than I revealed. It said a great boon I given to those who use the Well of Sorrows… but at a terrible price.”

“What do you know?” Nassella asked sternly. “What did that alter say?”

“Like most elven writing, it was insufferably vague. The term I deciphered was ‘halam’shivanas’ – the sweet sacrifice of duty. It implies the loss of something personal for duty’s sake. Yet for those who served at this temple, a worthwhile trade,” Morrigan replied.

“So what sort of curse will this Well give?” Nassella asked, frowning.

“I do not know, and this price is not so well defined.” Then Morrigan glanced toward the door. “My priority is your cause. But if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the cost.”

Nassella rubbed a hand over her temple, then let out a long sigh. “We will do these rituals, but only because I think they are likely to lead us to the Well faster than…” she gestured toward the crevice. “Wherever this leads.”

“Ness—,“ James tried to say, but Nassella shook her head.

“And this is still Mythal’s temple,” she said, rubbing a finger along her cheekbone, where purple branches spread. “Whatever the rush… we can’t disrespect it like Samson has.”

James let out a long sigh, then glanced to his right, where he could see the raised platform of another puzzle. “We should spread out then,” he suggested. “Figure out the puzzles before you get there to finish them.”

Nassella grinned, then nodded, jogging to her left, toward another archway leading to what looked like a second puzzle. James glanced at Bull, then ran to the right.

 

* * *

 

Nassella hoped she had made the right decision, hoped she hadn’t doomed them all by insisting they walk the path laid out for them by the ancient elves. But they were in Mythals’ temple, the goddess’s vallaslin covered her face. Corypheus would destroy the temple if he could, but Nassella would not disrespect the sacred place as he did.

And she really thought the Well would be through the doors, once they were opened.

They worked quickly through the puzzles, as she solved the first, then James directed her through the second, and Solas through the third. The doors lit up just like the first.

She thought the Well of Sorrows would be on the other side.

Morrigan apparently thought the same. “’Tis not what I expected,” she whispered, cautiously moving into the room the doors led to, elaborate and beautiful and unlike anything Nassella had ever seen elves create. It was like the ruins in Emprise du Lion, but not in ruin. “What was this chamber used for…?”

And then Nassella felt the hairs on her neck stand up straight, a whisper of fabric on stone, a disturbance in the current of the air, _something_ telling her that they were not alone. She glanced behind her, and froze when she saw she had been correct, a line of the strange elves in their golden armor standing with arrows trained on all of them.

“Look out—“

“Look—“

She turned toward James’s voice, then looked up at the balcony ahead of them, watching as a tall man in a hood and the same gold armor as the elves behind them walked from a shadow. “Venavis,” he said, eyes cast down toward them. Nassella froze, trying to decide how they could possibly get out of this trap. She didn’t want to kill any more elves.

“You… are unlike the other invaders,” the tall elf said. Nassella frowned slightly. His accent was not Dalish. To her ears it sounded like… Solas’s. “You have the features of those who call themselves elvhen,” the elf continued, and Nassella felt his eyes on her. “You bear the mark of magic which is… familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?”

Nassella clenched her left fist. Solas had told her months before that the orb Corypheus used was elven, that the magic now imbedded in her hand was ancient. How could this elf realize the same so quickly? Something about him was wrong, something was different.

He was still expecting an answer, so Nassella stood a little taller. “They are my enemies, as well as yours,” she told the elf. “We are here to stop them from destroying this place.” She clenched her fist again. “And who are _you_?”

For a moment, the elf was silent, then he started to pace. “I am called Abelas,” he told them, his eyes never leaving their group. “We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir’abelasan.”

“’The place of the Well of Sorrows’,” Morrigan whispered. “He speaks of the Well!”

But that was not what Nassella found interesting about Abelas’s statement. He said that he woke, with the other sentinels, whenever the temple was invaded. How long had he been here with the others? How many years had they slumbered?

“It is not for you. It is not for any of you,” Abelas said, now glaring sternly at Morrigan.

So much for walking in and using the Well themselves. Nassella wondered what power it provided, to have elves tasked solely with protecting it. She began to doubt if it would really be worth trying to obtain it, especially if they would have to fight through elves to reach it.

But she was still curious about how old Abelas and these elves really were. “You’re elves from ancient times?” she asked Abelas, drawing his attention away from Morrigan. “From before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?” The thought was exciting, once she said the words. These elves would know so much…

Abelas shook his head. “The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan. We elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, out time was over.”

Nassella frowned, lowering her eyes from Abelas on his balconry. Her entire life she had believed Tevinter, humans, were responsible for her people’s downfall. To hear that was not the case…

“Each time we waken we find the world more foreign than before,” Abelas continued. “It is meaningless. We endure. The Vir’abelesan must be preserved.”

This Well really was important, to have such sentinels guarding it for so long, for thousands of years. _Ancient elves,_ Nassella thought, looking back at Abelas with his gleaming armor and stoic demeanor. _Living, breathing, ancient elves. I can’t imagine everything they might know…_

It seemed a waste, to hide in this temple, when there were elves beyond the temple’s walls who struggled to remember their own heritage, who scraped and collected what bits of lore and knowledge they could find, trading stories and legends around campfires. Someone like Abelas could put so many questions to rest…

“What is the… Virableson?” James asked. “What does it do?”

Abelas turned his eyes toward James, nose crinkling slightly. “It is a path,” the elf eventually said. “One walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favor. More than that you need not know.”

Nassella took a step forward. They _did_ need to know. To stop Corypheus. For the elves…

“Our people have lost everything,” Nassella told Abelas. “They need you. They could learn from you! This Well—“

“’Our’ people?” Abelas interrupted harshly. The words died on Nassella’s lips, seeing the way he now glared at her as he had glared at James. “The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing vallaslin? You are _not_ my people.” Nassella was stunned. Even Dalish and the city elves recognized they were still basically the same… “And you have invaded our sanctum as readily as the shemlen,” Abelas finished angrily.

This wasn’t right. He couldn’t equate her to humans, to Samson and his men bullying their way through the temple. “We knew this place was sacred!” Nassella told Abelas. “We’ve respected it as best we could. But we need to stop them!”

Abelas stared at her a moment longer, and Nassella realized her heart had started to race. This was it. Either Abelas would take her word as truth, or he would set his sentinels on them. And Nassella didn’t want to fight them.

“I believe you,” Abelas finally said. Nassella let out her breath. “Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. It these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart… and never return.”

“This is our goal, is it not?” Solas whispered from behind her. “There is no reason to fight these sentinels.”

“But we may also nee the Well for you own,” Morrigan added. “Consider carefu—“

“I accept your offer,” Nassella told Abelas. She would not fight these elves for the Well.

 

~~\-----~~

 

Nassella walked through the temple with her companions, following the sentinel, somehow apparently even older than those who fought, as she limped slowly through the hidden passages and secret doors. Nassella could hear fighting occurring in the main rooms of the temple, which meant Samson had found his way inside and could even now be approaching the Well. Again, Nassella was afraid she had made the wrong decision in not following Samson earlier.

As it was, they were still lucky they weren’t fighting the sentinels, after Morrigan had turned into a raven and flown off after Abelas. The ancient elf had told them, before they were escorted away, that he would destroy the Well before he saw it despoiled. Morrigan had been upset, and Nassella wondered if even now she was at the Well obtaining its power.

The Well of Sorrows, Vir’abalesan… it was still unclear exactly what it was, or what it did. All Nassella knew was that it was powerful, and that Corypheus and Morrigan wanted it, and Abelas wanted none of them to have it.

Nassella wasn’t sure. A large part of her wanted to leave the temple in peace, to let the Well remain. But she had to consider that its power could help their cause, that the Inquisition might need the Well to defeat Corypheus.

But this cost…

They were led once more outside by the sentinel, and Nassella saw across a large expanse, on a small hill, what looked like a large, reflective pool.

“Is that the Well?” James asked, standing by her side.

Nassella nodded. “I think so.”

“It… doesn’t look like much.”

An explosion from below drew her attention, and Nassella started to run, drawn with the others down a large flight of stairs, toward the small stream cutting through the plain below the hill containing the Well of Sorrows where Samson was fighting with his remaining red Templars. She reached for the pouch on her belt, making sure Dagna’s rune was still safely inside. The last sentinel elf fell, and Samson turned toward her approaching party.

“Inquisitor,” he sneered. “You and those elf-thigs don’t know when to stop. You’ve hunted us half across Thedas. I should’ve guessed you’d follow us into this hole.”

Nassella stood straight, glaring at the man in his red lyrium armor. “Stand down Samson!” she yelled. “We’ve destroyed your lyrium supplies, and your army is being cut down as we speak. It’s over!”

Samson laughed. “No, thanks,” he said simply. “Corypheus chose me as his vessel for the Well of Sorrows. I’ll carry its power to Corypheus. One more task entrusted to me. You know what’s inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor.”

“You’re an idiot,” James growled. “Once Corypheus has that power, he won’t need any of you! He’ll just get rid of you.”

“You dare say that to my face?” Samson snarled. “After you butchered my men? You’re no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well, you’ll never master its wisdom as he could.” The man started to glow, the exposed veins of lyrium covering his body pulsing with a sick red light. Nassella thought he started to get larger. “ _This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it’s a new world now. With a new god. So, Inquisitor. How will this go?”

He was definitely getting larger.

Nassella thrust her hand into the pouch and grabbed the circular rune, pulling it into the open. It immediately started to glow when it was exposed to the open air, energy dancing through her hand and arm, a force pulling it toward Samson as Maddox’s tools inside recognized the armor they had forged.

Samson screeched, the glowing on his body stopped, and he ceased growing. “What did you do?” the man asked, looking down at his body as bits of the armor fell to the ground. “ _What did you do?!_ My armor. It’s gone! The lyrium… I _need_ it! Kill them all!”

Nassella barely had time to drop the run and reach for her blades before the red Templars were on them. A quick step in front of her from James gave her the time to really prepare to fight. The red Templar in front of him fell from a swipe from his sword, the head of the creature skipping across the stones a moment later.

Despite their fatigue, and the force Samson had with him, the fight was not the most difficult Nassella had ever experienced. She thanked Dagna the entire time she was fighting Corypheus’s general, knowing that he fell so easily because that armor had been destroyed.

Still, Samson yet breathed in the end.

“Not the Well, you wretch,” he wheezed, attempting to crawl toward that hill where the Well was kept. “You can’t take it from Corypheus. You mustn’t…”

“How is he still alive,” James said, walking toward the fallen man. He bent down and started tying the man’s hands together.

Nassella nodded. “We can take him back to Skyhold—“

Overhead a raven cawed, and everyone turned to see Morrigan had finally found her way through the Temple alone, Abelas racing after her as she flew through the air.

“Abelas!” she yelled, her own feet taking off after the pair. “Morrigan!”

He was running toward the Well, and before Nassella could wonder how he could get up there, the stones sporadically covering the hill started to move, arranging themselves into a set of stairs that Abelas quickly began to ascend.

Nassella followed as quickly as she could, heart racing when she reached the landing above. A large pool of shallow water spread before her, a tall eluvian rising on the other side of the still waters. Morrigan hadn’t been entirely wrong after all.

In a flash of smoke and feathers Morrigan transformed back into her human form, putting herself between Abelas and the Well. “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor,” the witch said, ignoring the fact that she had disappeared on all of them. “The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!”

Abelas started to pace, hands behind his back. “So the sanctum is despoiled at last.”

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance!” Morrigan retorted.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the underserving!”

“Fool! You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows!”

They were arguing and Nassella didn’t know what to do. Samson said the Well contained wisdom, the wisdom of the ancient elves. They might need it…

“Samson thought the Well’s knowledge was valuable,” she tried telling Abelas. “What if it could help us stop Corypheus?”

Abelas turned toward her, eyes blazing. “I care nothing for your petty conflicts, shemlen.”

Nassella felt that word like a kick in her gut. _Shemlen…_ it was what they called humans, those who had destroyed her people, who continued to oppress elves all over the world.

She was _not_ a shemlen, but to this ancient elf, that’s all she was…

“You’ll care when Corypheus comes back for the Well!” she insisted, refusing to back down. “He’ll just send someone else, or come in himself. You cannot protect it forever, now that he knows it is here!”

“This power could be turned against Corypheus,” Morrigan added. “Can we afford not to use it?”

“Do you even know what you ask?” Abelas flung toward Morrigan. “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on… through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

Nassella gaped at the elf. It wasn’t just power this Well offered, or some vague wisdom. It was history, the history of her people. Any question the Dalish ever had would be answered with this water…

“You think it’s better that knowledge remain in the Well, never passed on?” she asked Abelas. “You’d rather destroy it than see it used to help our… elves around the world?”

Abelas looked at her, and Nassella realized that he was tattooed with the branches of Mythal, just as she was. But he said nothing, just studied her face until she wasn’t sure she could continue to hold his gaze. He was so ancient, she realized looking at him. Ancient and very, very sad.

It was Solas who broke the silence. “There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger.”

Abelas turned toward Solas, and Nassella watched the ancient elf size up the other. “Elvhen such as you?” Abelas asked, some of the fight gone from his voice.

“Yes. Such as I,” came Solas’s reply.

Nassella frowned, staring at Solas’s face, carefully masked so that she could not determine what he had meant. Abelas must have been confused to see Solas with no vallaslin. He had assumed, rightly, that Solas was different from the Dalish, but why Abelas had addressed Solas as elvhen, when he had not given her the same courtesy, she could not say.

Abelas turned his eyes back toward her, then sighed. Slowly, he stepped away from the Well. “You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny,” he said. “Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir’abelesan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

He was going to back down. He was going to allow them to use the Well, and whatever power they could from it to defeat Corypheus. Whatever had changed his mind, Nassella was glad.

“Only with your permission,” she told the ancient elf. She could not bring herself to steal the Well’s power, no matter how useful it could be.

Abelas shook his head. “One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right. The Vir’abelesan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

Morrigan laughed. “Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?”

Nassella did not laugh. Mythal had been real, at one time, and while she might now be gone, being bound to her was not a matter to be taken lightly. Nassella had chosen the goddess’s vallaslin, decided to live her life as close to Mythal’s will as possible, but this was something else entirely…

“Is it possible Mythal still exists?” she asked Abelas. If anyone might know, it would be him.

“Anything is possible,” Ablelas said.

Morrigan laughed again. “Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’Harel and banished to the Beyond.”

Abelas shook his head. “ _Elven_ legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.”

“Murder?” Nassella asked. “Our stories say nothing about—“

“She was slain,” Abelas interrupted. “If a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple.” With that the elf turned and began walking away, back toward the stairs.

“Are you leaving?” Nassella asked.

Abelas paused. “Our duty ends. Why remain?”

“There is a place for you, lethallin… if you seek it,” Solas offered.

“Or you could come with us,” Nassella added. “Fight Corypheus. He killed your people.”

Abelas’s eyes glazed over. “We killed ourselves, long ago,” he said softly.

“Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas,” Solas said as the ancient elf walked away.

When he was gone, Nassella turned back to the Well.

It was time to make a decision.

Nassella knew they needed the Well’s power. As for who would take it, she didn’t yet know.

“You’ll note the intact eluvian,” Morrigan said, joining Nassella at the Well’s edge. “I was correct on that count, at least.”

“Can Corypheus still use it to travel the Fade?” Nassella asked the mage.

“The Well is the key to this eluvian, take its power, and Mythal’s last eluvvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.”

Nassella stared at the water in front of. It looked so benign, the only hint that perhaps it was not just water was the slight pull she felt deep in her body, craving the liquid.

“I am willing to pay the price the Well demands,” Morrigan told her. Nassella looked over to the witch. She raised her chin. “I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service.”

“Or more likely, to your own ends,” Solas said angrily.

Morrigan turned her golden gaze toward the bald elf. “What would you know of my ‘ends’, elf?”

Solas snarled. “You are a glutton drooling at the sight of a feast. You cannot be trusted.”

“Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this.” Morrigan looked back to Nassella. “Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

They were arguing again and Nassella didn’t know what to do. She didn’t entirely trust Morrigan, and it stung, the human suggesting she could make better use of the Well than anyone else.

“This is my heritage!” Nassella told Morrigan. “This Well contains the history of my people! Why are you the only one who could use it?”

Morrigan frowned. “I have studied the oldest lore. I have delved into mysteries of which you could only dream! Can you _honestly_ tell me there is anyone better suited?”

Nassella hated to admit that Morrigan was right. Nassella knew the important stories, but she knew there were things she had forgotten, obscure facts that perhaps her sister might know, but not her. And Morrigan actually knew ancient elven. At least, she knew more than Nassella did.

Nassella _knew_ she was less suited than Morrigan, and that made her angry.

But it still didn’t have to be Morrigan. Nassella turned toward Solas, who obviously knew ancient elven as well. “What about you, Solas?”

Solas scowled, and actually g _lared_ at her. “No. Do not ask me again.”

Nassella looked back to Morrigan, just as unsure as before, and now stinging from Solas’s outburst. “What about the price?” she asked Morrigan. “Are you not concerned about being bound to the will of Mythal?”

Morrigan chuckled. “Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning. Perhaps a compulsion yet remains. Who can say otherwise? I do not fear it, even so. We do not know what will happened, and yet it must be done. I am ready.”

Nassealla didn’t know what to do. The Inquisition needed the power of the Well, which meant they needed someone who could actually _use_ it to take it. And that was Morrigan. But the Well was elvhen, and contained knowledge of Nassella’s people. She didn’t know if she could, in good conscience, allow a human to take it, when she was right there.

She should be willing to pay the price, just as Morrigan did. She could take the Well herself, and bring that knowledge back to the Dalish. It was what her sister would want, or her Keeper.

“What do you think?” Nassella asked, turning to those gathered. “What if I took it?”

Solas was still frowning. “She is right about only one thing: we should take the power which lies in that Well.”

“If there’s a chance this Well could help us against Corypheus, I say we take it,” Bull offered. “And I’d rather it be you than her.”

At least Bull had an opinion…

“Let Morrigan take it,” James said. He was standing toward the back of the group, frowning toward the ground. “We don’t know for sure that it will help. I know it’s elvhen, but…” He shook his head and raised his eyes to look at Nassella. “It’s too risky. We need you Ness. You can’t risk yourself for something we know nothing about.”

 _He’s right_ , Nassella thought as she looked back to the Well. She couldn’t risk herself for something so foreign and unknown, not when she was the Inquisitor, not when she was the world’s best chance at defeating Corypheus. And there were still rifts to close, red Templars and Venatori to destroy. She couldn’t jeopardize her safety with this, no matter how much she might want to keep this Well’s knowledge to the elves.

Her role was bigger than the Dalish, bigger than the elves. She was tasked with saving the world. She could not give her own desires greater weight than that goal.

“It’s yours,” Nassella told Morrigan, wishing she still didn’t feel so unsure. “Take it.”

Morrigan nodded and stepped closer to the Well. Nassella backed away, telling herself, again and again, that this was the right decision, the _smart_ decision. They needed the Well’s knowledge, and Morrigan was the one who could use it best.

But what she would do after Corypheus was defeated, _if_ he was defeated, Nassella didn’t know. And it was that unknown that she was immediately starting to regret.

Morrigan waded into the water carefully, and Nassella watched with bated breath as she moved deeper, until the water reached her thighs and she was in the middle of the pool. The woman turned carefully, and Nassella watched as the water started to glow, growing brighter and brighter…

Morrigan collapsed, disappearing beneath the water’s surface. Nassella started running back toward the Well, panicked…

Then the water exploded, burst from the Well with a spray of water, warm from the sun or some deeper magic. Nassella shielded her eyes from the blast, then blinked away the droplets until she could see Morrigan lying in the center of the now empty pool.

She rushed to the mage’s side, relieved when the woman stirred. “Morrigan, are you all right?” she asked, kneeling down. Morrigan moaned softly, and started to sit up, mumbling at first, though her voice quickly grew stronger.

“Ellasin selam! Vissan… vissanalla...” Morrigan rubbed her head, confused, then rose to her feet, turning slowly, eyes looking far past Nassella, or anything physically in the temple. “I… I am intact. There is much to sift through… but now we can—“ Remnants of smoke and light swirled around Morrigan’s feet, spreading over the ancient tiles until Nassella felt the warm brush of magic through her armor.

“Shit!” James yelled suddenly. Nassella snapped her eyes toward the man, and followed the line of his arm, raised and pointed toward the door where they had entered.

Corypheus had finally found his way into the temple.

The giant magister blighted with red lyrium was on the balcony, his eyes quickly finding them. Nassella could almost feel his anger, even from this distance.

And then he was in the air, flying through the air on some magic. Nassella thought her heart was going to burst. They weren’t ready, after the day of fighting, to try and kill him. It wouldn’t even work. He would just reform from the body of a dead Warden…

“Come!” Morrigan shouted, and Nassella turned to see the mage’s entire body was now glowing. Morrigan ran to the eluvian, and Nassella saw its surface swirling, indicating it was activated.

Solas was already running through the mirror, and Bull quickly followed. James paused before passing through, beckoning Dorian through, though his eyes were on Nassella, and she could see he was calling for her to run.

So she ran, past Morrigan and James, through the cool surface of the eluvian, and felt the shiver of magic across her skin as she entered the Crossroads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dit is gewoon verdomde goed. Deze verdomde plaats en neuken magie... = This is just fucking great. This fucking place and fucking magic...


	108. Through the Eluvian

Naomi ran the brush down Liberty’s shoulder, smiling when the mare flicked the muscle at the touch. She stamped a foot, then whinneyed softly, bucking her head toward Naomi’s shoulder. She brought her hand to the horse’s nose, rubbing the soft velvet, enjoying the warm breaths falling over her skin.

She had taken a ride that day. A long one. Not toward the glacier, the valley was too choked with snow for that, but down through the camp by the lake and beyond, until she had nearly reached tree line. Then back, quickly because she had grown cold and hungry.

She was still hungry, but Liberty needed attending first, so Naomi returned to grooming, running the brush down the length of the horse’s back. Liberty snorted happily, and Naomi let out a long sigh.

She wished sometimes that her life was simpler, that all she had to do or worry about was taking care of horses. She was happier now, surrounded by the smell of dung and hay than she had been over most of the last few days. Especially after everything she had discovered.

She moved to Liberty’s other side to continue her work, humming a few songs as she went along. She was nearly done when steps approached from outside the stall, and when she looked up, Naomi saw Emory standing in the doorway.

Naomi paused her work. Though she had spoken with Emory on multiple occasions, and he had helped her get the autopsy for Alec approved, she was glad to have the large horse between her and the man. He still made her somewhat uneasy.

“Hi Emory,” she said, giving him a brief smile. “Do you need something?”

The man crossed his arms and stared somewhere to her left. “I wanted to inform you that we held Alec’s funeral today.”

Naomi gripped at Liberty’s mane. “Oh,” she said quietly. “I… didn’t realize that was going to be today.”

Emory shook his head. “I didn’t see the need to tell you. He was… unkind to you. I did not imagine you would want to attend.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Naomi didn’t know what she would have done at the funeral of a man who had treated her the way he had. But she still felt sad at his passing, and for the pain he had suffered. “I’m sorry for what happened to him,” she told Emory. “And I’m sorry that you lost your friend. You must know that I… I never wanted this to happen, no matter what he had done.”

Emory nodded. “Yes, I know.” He was still staring somewhere past her head. “And I know you tried to help him, despite everything.” The man was still frowning, and Naomi had the impression that _he_ was more uncomfortable than her. “He wasn’t always like that,” Emory continued, and he spared a fleeting glance at her eyes. “We trained at the same Chantry, you see. He was always a little cocky, and no one could keep him out of the girls’ dorm, no matter the punishment…” Emory let out a hollow chuckle at some long past memory, then sighed. “But he wasn’t cruel. At least, not at first.”

Naomi ran her brush lightly over Liberty’s hide. Emory wanted to talk, she realized, grieve for this friend he had lost. And no matter her own feelings, she knew she should listen. And perhaps it would be good, to know that there had once been good in Alec. “Most people aren’t,” she responded when Emory paused. “Cruelty is learned.”

“You think the Templar’s taught him to be cruel?”

Naomi bit at her lip, then brushed some more. “I think the Templars taught him to fear mages, taught him they were less than human. And then he saw his superiors punishing mages with little cause, was put in a Circle where Templars clearly abused their power…”

“The Commander came from that same Circle,” Emory retorted. “You clearly think he is different.”

“Cullen _is_ different,” Naomi told Emory. “He didn’t let those things continue to influence his actions, he chose to ignore what he had been taught… or at least, see it in a different way.” She brushed Liberty again, a little harder. “I know that cruelty is learned but it… comes easier to some people.” She chanced a glance at Emory, who was watched her with a hard stare. “And compassion comes easier to others as well.”

“So the Templars ruined him?”

Naomi swallowed. She didn’t think the Templars had to ruin their charges, but for Alec… “I think for someone like Alec, the Templars… didn’t help.”

“Maybe if he hadn’t been sent to Kirkwall, things would have been different.”

Naomi nodded. “Maybe.”

“It’s little comfort.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Naomi said softly.

“He didn’t even have a choice,” Emory continued, leaning against the door to the stall, now staring down the stable’s main corridor. “He was the youngest son of a large noble family. It was decided he would be sent to the Chantry the moment he was born.”

Naomi hated that. Perhaps things would be better if those who joined the Order wanted to, as Cullen had. Cullen at least felt he had been doing something good, instead of resenting the position. “That doesn’t seem right,” Naomi told Emory. “I think joining an Order such as the Templars should be a choice. Especially with the use of lyrium…” Emory scowled at that, and he raised a hand toward his head, toward the lyrium that was surely spreading through his brain, just as it had spread through Alec’s. “Were you… also sent to the Chantry as a child?” she asked him.

Emory nodded curtly. “Alec and I were not so different. Perhaps that’s why we became friends.”

Naomi didn’t know what to say, though she tried to imagine what Emory must be feeling. Not just grief, but also horror. To discover that something foreign lived inside his body, and to find out through the death of his friend...

“I want it gone,” Emory said suddenly, pushing off the doorway and turning fully toward her. He took a step into the stall, Liberty flicking her tail at the movement. “I want it out of me, like you helped take it out of the Commander.”

Naomi frowned. “I… I don’t think it’s actually out of Cullen. I haven’t checked, but he still hurts sometimes. I’ve just been helping the symptoms of withdrawal. I don’t actually know how to remove the lyrium, or… or _kill_ it.”

Emory’s frown deepened, but then he shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t want to put any more inside of me. I’ll stop taking lyrium, and I’d like your help.”

Naomi realized this was her chance, finally, to have a second subject to test her potions. It would also be the first time to observe someone so early in withdrawal. But she knew there were dangers, and sacrifices. “You would lose your abilities,” she told the Templar. “And you could still die. I’ve only ever worked with Cullen, and I started months after he first gave up lyrium…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Emory insisted. “I’ll take the pain, I’ll lose my abilities… I just want it gone.”

Naomi knew he understood the risks. He had watched his friend die. So she nodded. “Of course I’ll help.”

Emory relaxed slightly, and took a step back. “Thank you. I will begin tomorrow.”

“Ok, I’ll have some things ready—“

Shouts drifted in from outside, and a bell started to ring. Emory tensed, then turned and ran from the stables, called to whatever danger had risen the hackles of the fortress.

She followed, securing Liberty in her stall, then jogging outside and toward the gates, listening for any indication of what was happening. She feared they were being attacked, and tried not to think what that could mean for Skyhold. She took solace in the knowledge that a place like Skyhold, with its walls and single entrance. A place like Skyhold was built to be defended, even if nearly everybody was gone.

But instead of calls that they were being attacked, she instead heard something that sent her heart racing even faster.

“The Inquisitor! The Inquisitor has returned!”

It seemed too soon, but Naomi didn’t care. She sprinted toward the gate, looking eagerly down the bridge leading from the valley below for Nassella’s purple hart, or Cullen’s black stallion…

But it was empty. Naomi glanced around, confused at the way people were still shouting, excitedly rushing up the stairs to the courtyard above, into the great hall…

She followed the flow upstairs, wondering if somehow Nassella had slipped through deeper into the fortress before being noticed. But she was worried thinking of the implications of what it would mean for her friend to have returned alone.

But she wasn’t alone, and before Naomi could see Nassella through the crowd of people in the great hall, she noticed James’s dark head, and Bull’s widespread horns. Quickly she pushed through the bodies separating her from her brother, calling to him above the noise.

He turned toward her voice, and as she emerged into the space surrounding him, she realized he was still wearing his armor, and covered in blood and dried mud, his shoulders hunched from exhaustion. He looked as if he had just come from a fight.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, reaching for his arm. “How are you back so quickly?”

James clutched at her shoulder, eyes wide. “I’m… not sure. We went through some sort of mirror back in the temple, then another to end up here…” He glanced toward Morrigan, the mage standing as far apart from the crowds as possible, clutching at her head. “Morrigan called it an… eluvian, I think.”

“So it was like a portal?” Naomi asked.

“Yeah,” James said with a nod. “We had to get away from Corypheus…”

“Corypheus?” Naomi glanced back over her brother, and the others who had come back. They really were all filthy. “Were you fighting _today_? Where is everyone else? Where is Cullen?”

“Back in the forest,” James said. “He was fine when I left him…” But then he shook his head. “But we left everyone back there with Corypheus…,” he muttered. He turned toward Nassella. “Ness! We just left the army back there! With the dragon and Corypheus!”

Naomi felt her heart start to race. Cullen was back there. Possibly in danger, even as they spoke.

“I know,” Nassella said, walking toward James from where she had been stationed next to Morrigan, just as unkempt as James. The elf rubbed at her eyes. “Maybe we should have stayed back, tried to fight…”

“We weren’t in any condition to fight Corypheus,” Bull told her. “We needed to get out.”

“But Cullen and the troops. We just left them.”

“The tide was turning once you showed up,” James offered. “The red Templars were on the run. They won’t last, and surely Corypheus won’t take his chances against the entire army…”

“Until they realize I’m gone,” Nassella said with a sigh. She turned back to Morrigan. “Would it be possible to return through the eluvian?” she asked the mage.

Morrigan lowered her hands and shook her head. “I’m afraid the other eluvian was shattered once we were through. It is useless to us now.”

Nassella chewed on her lip and reached to tug on her earlobe. After a few seconds she nodded, coming to a decision. “I need to go write a letter… multiple letters. They will be worried about us back in the Arbor Wilds, and they need to know what happened. We will just have to hope that Cullen can handle the rest of the battle.”

Naomi could hear the crowd behind her start to whisper, start to worry. Nassella had not been encouraging, and it was clear that though she had returned alive, the battle was not yet decided.

Nassella’s eyes flicked toward the people around her, and Naomi knew she had realized the same. “Regardless,” Nassella said, somewhat louder. “Corypheus was denied what he sought in the Arbor Wilds, and his red Templar army will be nearly destroyed. We accomplished what we set out to do. The rest, I am sure, will also work in our favor.” With that announcement she turned from the crowd and moved back toward her throne, reaching for Solas’s hand and beckoning Morrigan to follow.

Naomi was not very encouraged as she watched Nassella retreat toward Josephine’s office and the war room. Cullen was still back there. As were Cole and Cassandra and Blackwall and so many others. She was happy her brother had returned safely, that Nassella was also back. But she would not be entirely happy until Cullen was back as well.

“Tell me what happened,” Naomi told her brother, clutching his arm tighter. “Tell me about the battle.”

He shook his head, and started to pull away. “Not now Naomi, I’m tired…”

“Please,” she asked again, following him through the great hall. “Please, I need to know what happened…”

James scowled, but nodded. “Fine. But I need to change first.”

 

* * *

 

Nassella crawled into her bed that night exhausted and still on edge, mind unable to stop returning to the battle they had left behind, hoping that she had not made a mistake in coming through that eluvian, leaving Cullen and the army to Corypheus and his dragon.

She had dispatched her letters, explaining where she had gone, and hoped for a quick response. Indication that running had not doomed the rest of the Inquisition back in the Wilds.

She remembered they had left Samson, nearly dead and bound, below the Well of Sorrows. Likely, Corypheus had retrieved his general and they had lost a valuable prisoner. Another mistake from that day.

And Morrigan… Nassella had worked for several moments to pull some sort of information from the witch, some confirmation that giving Morrigan the Well had not ruined her mind. And she needed information, something that might help them against Corypheus. Regardless of what had happened back in the Wilds to the rest of the army, Nassella had to assume that Corypheus would escape, and would likely retaliate. It had taken time, but eventually Morrigan had sifted through the voices in her mind, telling Nassella they needed to travel to another altar of Mythal.

Nassella didn’t want to leave Skyhold so undefended again. But they needed the knowledge they might find at the altar, so Nassella had made plans for leaving the next day. Morrigan thought it would only take three, maybe four, days to reach the place, back in the direction they had just come from. If they were lucky, they could be back in Skyhold in a week, before the army could return from the Wilds.

Morrigan had rambled after that, exalting the knowledge she now had, the secrets she now understood. She was giddy, excited with the knowledge. Nassella had to admit that giving the human the Well had been best, and yet…

She worried what would become of that knowledge, that _elvhen_ knowledge, once the threat of Corypheus had passed. What would Morrigan do? Where would she go? Would she hoard the knowledge away, keep it from the elves who would likely benefit most? Nassella didn’t know, and she feared she had made another mistake, letting Morrigan have the Well.

Solas joined her in bed. Nassella was naked, but Solas wore a pair of breeches. She didn’t even try to initiate intimacy, and not just because she was exhausted. She might be unsure about what had happened to the Well, but Solas was clearly upset, and therefore upset with her.

He had said little in the meeting with Morrigan, instead sat a little apart from the group, glaring. Nassella knew he didn’t approve of the other mage receiving the Well’s power, but _he_ had refused to take it. Nassella didn’t think he had any right to be angry with her, for making such an impossible choice.

“You will come with me tomorrow?” Nassella asked the other elf. Even if he was upset, and not particularly amorous, Nassella snuggled herself against his body. She missed the closeness of other bodies most nights, and had been happier recently, with Solas more frequently sharing her bed.

“Of course,” Solas said, settling himself further under the blankets, closing his eyes to prepare to enter the Fade.

Nassella wrapped her arm around his body. “I’ll ask Bull and Dorian to come as well, even though we were just fighting. But I don’t have many other choices. James too…” She had missed travelling with the man. It would be good to have him in her group again.

Solas’s body tensed slightly at the mention of James. But he just murmured, “That seems reasonable,” before falling silent.

Nassella wondered if Solas was angry James had convinced her not to take the Well. But Solas hadn’t exactly encouraged her.

Solas hadn’t been very helpful at all when deciding what to do with the Well. Though it had been him who had convinced Abelas to spare them, and to let them take the Well at all…

“Why did Abelas listen to you?” Nassella asked. “He… barely listened to me. Didn’t seem to like me at all…”

 _You are not my people._ The venom in the ancient elf’s voice still stung.

“He was ancient,” Solas told her. “He likely clung to some ancient belief about dealing with outsiders.”

“What? Like not listening to women?” Nassella asked. “Otherwise, I was the most like Abelas, aside from you. And I even had the same vallaslin.”

Solas shifted, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders and drawing her closer. “It is difficult to say.”

“Nothing to say from the Fade?”

“Such ancient customs are not always clear, when acted out by spirits.”

The explanation did not sit well with Nassella. Nothing from their histories and legends suggested the ancient elves favored men above women. And yet, Abelas had seemed to accept Solas more readily as one of the people, far above her.

“I don’t understand why he seemed so opposed to telling the Dalish what he knows. Why would he so adamantly deny us our history? We _need_ someone like him.”

“You must understand, vhenan, that… the elves have changed since Abelas’s time.”

“I know we live differently,” Nassella said. “We may even look a little different… but our beliefs are the same! We would learn eagerly from someone like him! And in this new world those ancient elves are in… the Dalish are the closest they have!”

“It is not so simple,” Solas said wearily. “Those sentinels have had a singular purpose for so long. It will be difficult to change.”

“Abelas seemed to listen to you,” Nassella pushed, rising up to look at his face, long and pale, like Abelas’s she realized. “You could have tried to convince him. You could have…”

“I’m tired Nassella,” Solas interrupted, frowning, though he did not open his eyes. “I wish to sleep.”

Nassella frowned, unable to ignore how much it hurt to be shut down by him so quickly. But it had been a long day, she reasoned. They were tired. It would be better to talk at another time.

Still, she turned to her other side before settling in to sleep, putting a small amount of space between her body and Solas’s.

 

* * *

 

James wanted to go to sleep. But Naomi had insisted on talking, so once he had removed his armor and wiped what sweat and dirt he could from his body, they sat in his room and talked.

He told her what he could of the battle, of fighting for days with little rest, pushing back and forth with the red Templars. That Nassella arriving had probably saved the battle.

And then he told her of finding the temple. Of watching Corypheus die, and then rise again from the body of a Warden.

“Fuck,” was all Naomi said, burying her head in her arms. “Fuck.”

He told her of moving through the temple, of encountering the ancient elves. Of fighting Samson and then fighting over the Well. Then their journey through the eluvian, back to Skyhold.

“Do you think Cullen will be alright?” Naomi asked when he was done, lifting her face from her arms to look at him, her eyes bright.

“He’s a great warrior,” James told her. “He’ll make it out.”

Naomi nodded, then closed her eyes, lips moving as she mouthed a prayer.

James thought about reassuring her further, telling her that Cullen wanted to marry her, and would fight with everything he had to return to her.

But he had promised to keep that a secret. Besides, it would just upset Naomi more, should Cullen actually fail to return.

“And how are you?” his sister asked after a moment. “I know you’re tired, but are you… otherwise ok?”

James shrugged. It was hard to know how he felt, past the exhaustion. But one thing was clear. “I’m worried about Corypheus,” he admitted. “And that he can’t die. I… don’t know how we will defeat him. Morrigan has an idea, but…”

“It is terrifying,” Naomi agreed. “But… we have to keep hoping.”

Yes. Hope. That’s all they seemed to have anymore. Hope that Coryphes had left the rest of the army alone, hope that Morrigan really could find a way to kill Corypheus in the knowledge now swimming around her mind, hope that they would be strong enough to finally end this…

“And Nassella?” Naomi asked. “How does she seem?”

“Upset as well,” James said. “Especially about Corypheus. And… it was hard for her to decide who took the Well. She’s probably still trying to decide if it was the right thing to do…”He couldn’t forget out she had gone back and forth at that Well, and he was glad she had decided to give it to Morrigan. While the mage had survived, so far, James knew it was better they had not risked Nassella. He liked to think what he had said had somehow convinced her to leave it alone. “And there was an elf in the temple that was… rude to her. I could tell she was upset.”

“How?”

“The corners of her mouth turn down a little when she’s angry…” Naomi chuckled softly and James glared at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Naomi said, the grin falling from her face.

“What about you?” James asked, wanting to forget the last few days for a while, and veer the conversation away from Nassella. “What have you been up to?”

Naomi took a deep breath and rubbed at her temples. “Well… I figured out lyrium is alive.”

“Really?” James asked. “The microscope helped you?”                                                                     

Naomi nodded. “I can see that it is made up of cells, and some sort of spores… maybe like fungus. And it grows on blood, and it is in the bloodstreams of Templars…” She rubbed her head harder, then leaned back against the wall. “And it grows inside the brains of Templars,” she whispered. “It _lives_ inside of them.”

James stared at his sister, impressed at all she had managed in a couple of weeks, and horrified at what she had discovered. “It lives inside them? How in the world did you figure that out?”

“Alec died,” she said. “And we performed an autopsy.”

 _That_ news surprised James even more, though it had probably been a long time coming. “Good riddance,” James mumbled, unable to feel sorry for the man’s passing. Naomi glared at him for a brief moment.

“He was a person James, and it just happened a couple days ago. You don’t have to be glad about it.”

“You know I don’t like him.”

“Still,” Naomi mumbled, closing her eyes once more. “But… it did mean I could find out about the lyrium. Hopefully he… is at peace with that now.”

She was too kind, too forgiving, James thought.

“What about Cullen?” he asked. “Do you think it’s still inside of him?”

“Yes,” Naomi said quietly. “I hope not, but… with the way he still hurts, I think it must be. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Are you going to try?”

Naomi opened her eyes, narrowing her eyes, fierce instead of sad. “Of course I am.”

James nodded, and they lapsed into silence. He nearly nodded off sitting on the edge of his bed, and was about ready to ask Naomi to leave when she spoke again. “Can I show you something?”

“Yeah,” James said reluctantly.

But she didn’t move, and after a couple of seconds, James asked what she was doing. “What is it—“

A cup fell from the table across the room, spilling water over the floor. James stood with a jump, reaching for a weapon that was not strapped to his body.

“Calm down James,” Naomi said. “It was just me.”

James frowned at his sister, still sitting against the wall as she had been for the last several minutes, several feet away from the fallen cup.

“What the fuck?” he asked her. “How did you do that?”

“I can move the mana in my ring,” she said, holding up her hand. “I can push it against… or through – I’m not entirely sure which – the Veil. I can make things move.”

James lowered himself back to the bed. “You can use magic?”

Naomi shook her head. “Not like mages. I just half enter the Fade and move the mana like I move the Fade when I’m asleep. I don’t think it’s really magic, just… something else. I don’t know. I need to talk to Solas or Dorian about it, now that they are back.”

James looked back to the cup, and at the puddle spreading slowly over the stones. “How big of things can you move?”

He looked to Naomi that time, watching as she half closed her eyes. She looked as if she was just nodding off to sleep.

And then the table across the room scraped across the floor. James looked back to the object, and felt his mouth drop open when it started to rise from the ground, hover a few feet in the air, the space below the table’s surface shimmering ever so faintly with a green light.

She lowered the table, a little too quickly so that it banged against the stones. James shook his head. Even though they now inhabited a world filled with magic, and had been touched by magic themselves, none of them had ever been able to manipulate other objects in this way…

James felt a force on his shoulder, and turned to see that vague area of green light was pressing against his body, pushing him sideways from where he sat. He glanced at Naomi, whose mouth, despite her looking asleep, was turned up in a grin.

“Stop it Naomi,” he said, pushing back against the barrier in an attempt to get it away. It was like a solid wall, entirely immovable.

Until Naomi dropped her concentration. She opened her eyes fully and the light disappeared, the only evidence she had used any sort of magic the askew table, and the water on the floor.

“That’s… actually pretty cool,” James said, rubbing at his shoulder. “Could definitely come in handy.”

“I thought so too,” Naomi said, looking at least somewhat cheerful about the prospect. “I move slowly so far, but I’ve already gotten a little faster at getting into the right state to move the mana. Some more practice and who knows!”

James yawned, the excitement of Naomi’s new abilities not enough to keep him from craving sleep. “I’m so tired Naomi,” he told her, moving aside his blankets so he could crawl beneath. “I haven’t slept through the night in three days. Please, get out.”

Naomi laughed softly and rose to her feet. “Sorry,” she said, taking the few steps she needed to reach him and wrap her arms around his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered.

James returned the hug. “Me too… now leave me alone.”


	109. Vallaslin

Nassella lay on her side, watching as Solas flipped through a book, a soft glowing light hovering just above his head, his angled features casting sharp shadows across his face. His face was unique, she mused, unlike any other man she had met, but handsome. And his lips were so full. She loved kissing them.

Not that they had done much kissing recently. She sat up and scooted closer, determined to change that.

She ran her hand over his thigh, drawing his attention away from the book. He raised an eyebrow and lowered the tome, and Nassella rose to her knees so she could crane toward his face, reaching to pull his lips toward hers. She smiled when his eyes dropped to her lips, pupils dilating slightly.

He complied with her urging, and Nassella sighed when his lips met hers, soft and warm, opening slightly to gently pull on her own. He breathed deeply, one hand slipping around her waist, and she lifted a leg so she could straddle him, settling into his lap and kissing him harder. She nipped at his lips with her teeth, clutching at the dome of head with her hands.

He kissed her back, responding to the probing of her tongue by opening his mouth to hers and clutching at her ass with his hands. She pressed her body closer to his and started to rock her hips, hoping to encourage him into more.

But right when she felt him responding beneath her, he clutched her hips to still her. He pulled away from their kiss with a small sigh, shaking his head.

“We should not do this here,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze sadly.

Nassella frowned. “We’ve had sex in our tent before,” she insisted. “And it’s been weeks Solas.” She rolled her hips again. Or at least tried to. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his ear... ”I’m wet, Solas,” she whispered, unable to ignore her body’s response to their kiss. “I want you…”

The hands on her hips gripped tighter, still he shook his head. “Not now,” he said, somewhat strained.

Nassella pulled away from him with a frustrated sigh and fell to her back on the bedroll. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the slight ache between her legs. She was still trying to understand Solas and what he wanted from her. She could understand if he wanted less sex than her. But she was struggling to understand when he was most likely to be in the mood, wishing he wasn’t so inconsistent…

“Come,” Solas said, rising to his feet and extending his hand to help her up. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Slightly encouraged, Nassella gripped his hand and followed him from the tent and let him lead her out of camp and into the forest, down the path that led toward one of the small lakes that surrounded their camp. They were silent as they walked, enjoying the lingering warmth that clung to the air in the wilds even as winter set in elsewhere. Nassella wondered if the altered weather would ever settle, or if the Breach had permanently changed the climate of Thedas.

They passed through a canyon cut through stone, two large halla statues rising on either side of a waterfall. They were nearing the place where Mythal’s altar could be found, and as they moved deeper into the wilds, the amount elvhen ruins increased. They were not as thick as they had been around Mythal’s temple, but they made Nassella pause each time they encountered them.

And here, seeing those statues rising tall and proud toward the night sky, Nassella shivered. In some ways she envied the Dalish clans that lived this far south, to still be so close to these remnants of their ancestors.

“The veil is thin here,” Solas said, as if he was commenting on the weather. “Can you feel it?”

Nassella smirked. Perhaps the shiver had not been from the cold, or from some deep-seated sense of awe. He pulled them to a stop and Nassella turned to face him, smiling broader at the happiness she saw on his own face. “I feel something,” she told him.

He smiled softly and lifted his hand to gently stroke her jaw. “I know you have been… disappointed in me recently,” he said. “And I apologize. So much has happened these past few weeks, and I have been trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.”

Most of her doubt slipped away, and Nassella felt her body relax. Finally he was talking, and she hoped that they would revisit what she had wanted to start in the tent. “I have a few suggestions,” she teased.

His smiled broadened. “I shall bear that in mind” The smile disappeared, and Nassella knew he had been planning something other than sex. “For now, the best gift I can offer is… the truth.”

Nassella frowned, once more apprehensive. “About what?”

“You are unique,” Solas murmured, still stroking her jaw, his eyes boring into hers, sharp as steel. “In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade.” He sighed. “You are important to me. More important than I could have imagined.”

Nassella’s chest ached. She had grown somewhat unsure about Solas and his feelings in the last few weeks, but with a few words he had put those fears to rest. “You’re important to me too,” she whispered back.

Solas’s eyes turned sad. “Then what I must tell you… the truth…”

She was worried, despite the reassurance his previous statement had brought her, about what this ‘truth’ was, and why he seemed so uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Your face,” Solas continued, and before Nassella could worry what was wrong with her features, he pressed on. “The vallaslin. In my journeys in the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean.”

Nassella reached for her face, for the branches that spread over her chin. “They honor the gods,” she said. But it was just a reaction. Solas wouldn’t bring this up if that were really the case…

“No,” Solas said, shaking his head, still sad. “They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.”

It was not what she had expected. If he had asked her to guess all night, she never would have suggested that vallaslin had originally been for such a purpose, that they had been used to mark elves as slaves. Nassella shook her head, her stomach starting to roil. “No,” she said, taking a step away from him, eyes dropping to his chest, to the jawbone he always wore around his neck. “My keeper said they honored the gods. These are their symbols…” Her face was marked to honor Mythal, their protector, goddess of love and justice. She would not keep slaves…

“Yes. That’s right,” Solas said slowly. But he was not done. “A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot.”

Nassella shook her head and backed further away from Solas, running her fingers over her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, everywhere that was marked with the purple branches of Mythal. “No,” she repeated, starting to feel nauseous. “This can’t… this can’t be true. That would make us no better than _Tevinter._ This can’t have been the thing we preserved…”

Solas stepped after her, his hand raised. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you—“

“Well you did!” Nassella yelled, dropping her arms and clenching her fists at her side, starting to pace. “I know you don’t mind pointing out everything the Dalish have gotten wrong, but… but couldn’t you have kept this to yourself?! Why would you tell me!?” Now she had to live with this knowledge, know every time she looked at her face that she was marked as a slave…

No wonder Abelas had not taken her as seriously as Solas. She was nothing in his eyes, nothing compared to Solas with his bare face. Nassella thought she might actually be sick. Slaves. Their gods had kept slaves. The Dalish had striven for so long to regain their culture, not even realizing that the past they revered was no better than the Tevinter Imperium, the country that enslaved and oppressed elves to that day…

Her skin was crawling and she felt a few tears prick at her eyes. If anyone found out, if anyone knew, they would use it against them. Laugh at the Dalish who prided themselves in being the only truly free elves, only to tattoo themselves with the marks of slaves. Use it as evidence that their attempts were futile, the hopes of a dying race. It was a cruel, cruel joke.

“I’m sorry,” Solas said again, no longer attempting to follow her as she paced through the damp grass. “It was selfish to tell you. But I look at you, and I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.”

“Yes, it was selfish!” Nassella yelled, stopping her pacing so she could glare at him. “You don’t have to live with these tattoos! Do you think I’m better off knowing?! How could you think this would help?!”

“Because I know a spell,” Solas told her quietly. “If you like… I can remove the vallaslin.”

She felt the breath leave her lungs, and forgot for a moment to draw in another. She had not thought it possible. Her vallaslin were burned into her skin by blood and magic, a permanent expression of her devotion to Mythal…

No. Not devotion. Enslavement. Nassella suddenly felt less awed by the ruins scattered through the forest. Had they been built on the backs of slaves?

“Do it,” she said, meeting Solas’s gaze. She was hurt by what Solas had told her, but he had not told her in malice. He offered her a solution. She took a step toward him. “Take them away.” She needed them gone. She couldn’t look at herself otherwise…

Solas nodded, then closed the distance between them and took her hand. “Sit,” he said quietly, lowering himself toward the ground. She followed him, heart racing. She was angry and upset, and now nervous, wondering if removing the vallaslin would be as painful as receiving them had been…

He lifted his hands and they started to glow with a soft blue light. Nassella closed her eyes and clutched at the grass beneath her hands, preparing for the pain.

But it did not come. Instead she felt warm, the light from his hands starting in front of her eyes, then moving to either side. Nassella let out a long breath and waited another moment. But there was nothing but the soft whisper of a breeze against her features.

“Ar lasa mala revas,” Solas whispered, reaching down and taking her hands. “You are free.”

She opened her eyes as Solas urged her to stand, looking up into his soft gaze, a loving smile lifting the corners of his lips. Nassella reached for her tunic and lifted the fabric, revealing the curve of her waist.

The skin was bare.

Nassella ran her fingers gently over the skin, not even a hint of the purple branches that had spread there just moments before blemishing her body. The vallaslin were gone. It was as if they had never been.

Relief washed through her body, and the itching feeling of her skin disappeared. She let the tunic fall back into place and looked at Solas, happiness starting to spread from her chest through the rest of her body. He loved her, had freed her from this remnant of the past she had no interest in keeping, now that she knew the truth.

Solas lifted his hand gently toward her face, stroking his thumb over her now bare chin. Nassella tried to remember what she looked like without her tattoos, but calmed when Solas murmured, “You are so beautiful.”

Yes, it was a little frightening to lose the vallaslin, which had been a part of her for so long, but it marked a step forward, a step forward with Solas. She had discovered something horrible about her people’s past, and lost a piece of herself, but she had _him._

He had been right to question the Dalish, right to point out their flaws. Nassella loved her people, but if this was the sort of tradition they kept…

“Thank you,” she said, reaching to clutch at the clothes around his waist, pulling him in close. Had he been distant because of the vallaslin? Had it bothered him to be with her, knowing what the marks covering her body meant?

It wouldn’t matter anymore. They were gone. Nassella reached to cup his jaw and drew him down, gaze locked with his. “Thank you for telling me,” she whispered. She was free, and so was he, from whatever hesitations he’d had because of her tattoos.

She moved her hand to clutch the back of his neck when he kissed her. It was soft at first, sweet. He tenderly pressed his lips to hers, drew her body close with a gentle hand wandering down her back to her ass. She craned into him, and opened to the questioning probe of his tongue.

He let go once she did, throwing away the gentle and careful movements of his lips, of his hands. He bit at her lips, licked the curves and ridges of her mouth, and pushed his hands beneath her tunic as he lowered them to the ground.

She moved with him eagerly, matched the near frantic movement of his hands and body, tearing at his clothing, clutching at every inch of exposed skin. He hovered above her, and she moaned when he straddled her thigh and ground against her, his own leg pressing between hers and sending fire through her entire body.

“Yes,” she groaned, bucking her hips against him. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. Ar lath ma Solas…”

The words had barely passed her lips when he stopped moving, save the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his elevated breaths. Nassella opened her eyes, furrowing her brow as she took in his blank, nearly shocked expression.

And then he pulled away from her, rose to his knees and then his feet, towering over her as he readjusted his clothing.

Confused, Nassella sat up, not bothering to close her own tunic, which Solas had ripped open in his frenzy. “What’s wrong Solas?” she asked.

He shook his head and took a few paces away. “I am sorry,” he said, retying the front of his breeches.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Nassella said, rising to her feet. But Solas did not respond, just finished with his clothing. Nassella grabbed her own tunic and pulled it across her chest, confused. “Solas…”

“I distracted you from your duty,” Solas said, looking into her eyes. “It will never happen again.”

It didn’t clear anything up. “Solas, what are you talking about?” she asked, stepping toward him. He stepped back, raising his hands between them. Nassella stopped, realizing he was trying to… distance himself from her. Apprehension squeezed her chest. “Solas—“

“I am sorry,” Solas repeated, shaking his head. “We cannot continue this.”

It didn’t make sense. They had been kissing, on their way to having sex… he had told her about the vallaslin because he cared…

And now he was… ending it?

“No,” she said, stepping closer again. “You can’t… you can’t be breaking up with me. Why would you—“

“We must focus,” Solas insisted. “I have distracted you. It was selfish, and it must end.”

“You’re not a distraction,” Nassella argued, reaching for him. He continued to back away, and Nassella felt herself starting to panic. “Solas… I love you! _You_ love _me._ There’s no reason to end what we’re doing!”

“We must,” Solas said.

Nassella clenched her fists, realizing it was growing harder to breathe. He couldn’t be leaving. He couldn’t be walking away from her. After everything they had been through, after what they had planned…

After he had told her about the vallaslin.

“Why did you bring me here?!” Nassella demanded, advancing once again. “Did you plan on leaving me before we came? Before you told me about the vallaslin? Why would… why would you take them away and then just leave?!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. Again. As if apologizing would lessen the ache in her chest, the growing rush of adrenaline and panic in her body. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Well you fucking did!” Nassella yelled, resisting the urge to hurt him, to strike at his chest. “You gave me no warning, no indication you wanted to end this!”

 “I will see you back at camp,” Solas said softly, giving her no explanation. “I will return to another tent for the night.” He turned away, and Nassella felt her stomach flip. She couldn’t let him leave.

“Why?” she called after him, following his steps. “Why are you ending this? We can… we can talk about this Solas!”

“No,” Solas said, still moving away from her. “We can’t.”

Nassella lost the strength in her legs, lost the will to follow him. He was gone, back down the path from where they had come. He didn’t look back.

 _No,_ Nassella thought, staring into the dark where Solas had disappeared. _No. He can’t… he can’t just walk away like that…_

But he had. He’d walked away with barely a backward glance, with no explanation. He had left her half-naked and horny and confused…

He would change his mind. In the morning he would realize he’d made a mistake, that they could be together and still focused on their cause, just as they had fought together for all these months…

But something in her knew he was unlikely to change his mind. It was probably impossible. Solas did nothing without intention. Why would deciding to leave her be any different…?

A breeze blew through the clearing and Nassella shivered. She was alone, her body aching, shaking. She felt small, and had no desire to return to camp, to see Solas for the rest of the night. To see anyone.

She ran into the forest, away from the camp, and hauled herself into a tree. She curled in the crook of a branch and listened to the sounds of the forest, unable to sleep to sleep until hours later.

 

\-----

 

Nassella woke with a pain in her neck and something sharp digging into her back. She blinked in the early morning light, noticing as she woke a pair of brightly colored birds sitting on the branch just a few feet away.

They were pretty, she thought, watching as one bird ran its bill over the back of the other. Probably the most beautiful birds she had ever seen.

They did nothing to lift her mood. Nassella glared at those birds, sitting so peacefully together on the branch. How could birds look so happy while she was miserable?

“Shoo,” she hissed quietly, startling the birds from their perch. It didn’t make her feel better.

It was quickly growing lighter and Nassella knew she needed to return to camp. They needed to be moving onward, and they would likely be wondering where she was. Any moment now she could expect to hear her name drifting through the trees.

She still didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to see Solas. She was still angry with him, still couldn’t believe that it was really over. She couldn’t believe he had really left her.

But she couldn’t hold them up because she was hurting, and she silently cursed Solas as she climbed down the tree. Couldn’t he have waited to do this? Decided he no longer wanted her when they weren’t in the midst of stopping Corypheus?

She made her way back to camp, passing by the lake where Solas had left her the night before. She paused in the clearing, then walked to the water’s edge. She needed a few more moments to herself.

But when she caught her reflection in the still water and remembered what else Solas had done the night before. She stared for a moment, unmoving, trying to reconcile the face she saw with the face she knew was hers, recognize the nose and chin and forehead as her own, and not the face of some bare-faced stranger…

But it was her, unmarked by the branches that had been placed there by her Keeper years before. It was the face she had been born with.

She thought it would be easier to look at herself this way, knowing the vallaslin’s original purpose. But it wasn’t. It hurt. Nassella brought a hand to her cheek, brushing her fingers beneath her eye where once a purple branch spread.

_It was a mistake._

Despite what the vallaslin represented, despite the dark history of those tattoos, for every moment leading to the night before they had been something different to her. Nassella remembered the day she received her facial tattoos, and the day a couple years later that placed the branches on her body. Her family had been there, her entire clan, sharing in the ceremony that marked her transition into adulthood, gave their very blood to place the marks…

The vallaslin had connected her to them, placed her the midst of that greater whole. And now, everyone who had contributed to her markings were now dead. The last piece of her Dalish past that had kept them with her was gone.

She had thrown it away without a second thought.

Nassella realized she was crying when water fell on her fingers. She lowered her hand to the ground and gripped at the grass, trying to ignore the nausea building in her stomach.

She had no one. Solas had taken her vallaslin and walked away, leaving her not only without him, but without her family, with no way to ever return to her Dalish roots…

No Dalish clan would take her, not once they realized she had thrown away the most visible symbol of her heritage. They would call her a flat-ear, shun her for the disrespect she had shown their culture…

 _But they were the mark of slaves,_ she thought, still staring at her bare face. _They will understand then. They just need to be told._

But would they believe her? The Inquisition had a decent relationship with the Dalish clans, but that didn’t mean they would take her word and throw away a deep-seated tradition. At least not as quickly as she had.

_This was a mistake._

And now she was alone. She couldn’t even talk to Solas about her conflicted thoughts. He had left her body altered permanently and walked away. He didn’t care how much this knowledge, and her choice, had hurt.

He had wanted her to know the truth… but if he was just planning on leaving… It didn’t make sense.

Nassella couldn’t look at herself, couldn’t stand her bare features, couldn’t stand to see what she had done. She stood and turned away from the lake’s edge, continuing her trudge back to the camp, feet somehow even heavier.

She heard yelling before she say the camp, an angry male voice drifting down the path. _Where is she?_ came one exclamation, followed by a pause as a quieter voice mumbled a reply.  _Why would you leave her alone?_ came the impassion reply.

James. Of course he was worried about her. Of course he was fighting with Solas. Maybe if she waited long enough, the man would actually hit the elf as he had threatened so many times before…

But she didn’t want that, not really. She was angry with Solas, but she didn’t want him hurt. And she didn’t like to think what would happen to James if Solas retaliated.

So emerged from the forest to find those in her party essentially how she had expected, Solas standing stoically in the center of the camp, James pacing in front of him, Bull and Morrigan watching from a few paces away, their own arms crossed over their chests.

They were the first to see Nassella return, and she saw the slight flicker of relief that crossed Bull’s face when she did.

“Boss,” he greeted her gruffly, stepped forward and placing a hand on James’s shoulder, turning the man in her direction. “You’re back.”

Nassella crossed her own arms over her chest, keeping her eyes away from Solas. “Yes. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

James was walking toward her in the next instant “Are you all right?” he asked, stopping a few paces away, his eyes assessing her body for signs of damage. “Solas didn’t tell us you were missing until this morning,” he added bitterly.

“I wasn’t missing,” Nassella said quietly. “I just wanted to be alone.”

“Still, something could have happened…” James said, voice trailing off as he finally looked at her face. _Really_ looked at her face.

She watched his eyes move, trace the lines where once her vallaslin had spread, his mouth dropping open slightly as he did. “What happened to your face?” he whispered.

Nassella’s entire body burned, with embarrassment and shame, realizing she would be asked again and again what had happened, what possibly could have removed her tattoos. She would not be able to put the previous night with Solas to rest for some time. In fact, she would remember every time she saw her bare face reflected back.

“It’s nothing,” she said, deciding to avoid answering James’s question. “I’m fine,” she added as she walked away from the dark-haired man toward her tent.

 _Let them wonder_ , she thought as she began hauling her things from the tent, throwing them with little ceremony or care into a pile, waiting to be strapped to Vir’nehn’s saddle. _I don’t have to explain myself. It was my decision… no matter how wrong. I don’t need to tell anyone why I let him do it..._

She began pulling stakes violently from the ground once her tent was empty, channeling her frustration and anger into tearing the structure down. It was a distraction she needed, so she wouldn’t have to think about Solas or the vallaslin or even the way her chest ached remembering the look of shock on James’s face when he saw her own bare features…

She was struggling to fold the large canvas tent into a manageable ball when she was joined by another set of hands. “Let me help you Inquisitor,” Solas said softly.

The title was jarring falling from his lips, and it was those words that made her realize he really intended for their relationship to end. Already she was nothing to him but a figurehead, a person he followed.

Had he already fallen so out of love with her? How had she not realized sooner this was coming?

“I don’t want your help,” she hissed at him, careful to keep her voice low.

Solas sighed. “I know you are angry, but—“

“Yeah, I’m fucking angry,” Nassella spat, louder. She lowered her voice again. “You just… _left_ me back there, with no explanation and… and you can’t just get out of this that easy!” she said, throwing the tent once more to the ground. She put her hands on her hips and forced herself to look at Solas, into his gray eyes that had so often looked at her with love. “Why did you do this?”

_Why did you crush everything I’ve ever felt about my people, and then break my heart…?_

_Why did you leave me with no one?_

But she didn’t say those things. He was already looking at her with far too much pity.

“I understand your anger,” Solas said softly. “I am furious with myself as well.”

“Then why did you do it?” she pressed, her voice starting to carry through the camp.

“We must focus on what matters.”

Nassella was growing hot, her heart starting to beat against her chest. “I thought _we_ mattered,” she told him. “It’s not wrong to focus on _us_ too!”

But Solas shook his head. “Harden your heart to a cutting edge, and put that pain to good use against Corypheus.”

Nassella couldn’t believe what he was saying, couldn’t believe he thought she could find something good from him leaving her like this.

She already had pain. How could he justify his actions by believing it would in some way help, that making her hurt even more would somehow be a benefit...?

“Why did you do this?” she asked again.

“The answers would only lead to more questions, an emotional entanglement that would benefit neither of us.”

He wasn’t going to tell her, would never give her the answers she wanted. He had never been one to reveal much of himself to others, but Nassella thought he had at least been open with her. But he was just as closed off now as he had been in the beginning. Even more so now, she realized looking at his calm, expressionless face. He would tell her nothing.

It made her furious. She deserved to know what had happened, the reasons he wanted to leave. It wasn’t about distraction or Corypheus. It couldn’t be. They had come this far together. If anything, he had jeopardized their entire cause by throwing her so off balance…

But being angry would not sway him. She had never been entirely sure how to get what she wanted from him, always waiting for him to decide when he was ready to talk, kiss, have sex…

She could shut herself off too. She would not show him how much he hurt her, how much she seethed beneath the surface. He didn’t deserve to know how he had broken her heart.

And he was still infuriatingly right about one thing; they needed to focus on Corypheus. He had thrown her into turmoil, but she could not let it distract her. Not when they were so close to their goal.

Nassella lowered her arms and reached once more for the tent. “Then leave me alone,” she told Solas, readjusting one corner of the canvas. “I don’t want your help.”

 

* * *

 

James paced through the weeds and underbrush, keeping one eye always turned toward Nassella and Morrigan at the altar on the other side of the large clearing. He didn’t like being told to wait so far away, knowing they were trying to communicate with an ancient elvhen goddess. None of them knew what sort of magic might be involved…

He nearly started running toward them when a cloud of smoke appeared, momentarily obscuring the women from his view. But Bull placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let this play out,” the Qunari said softly. “They know what they’re doing…”

James stopped, but kept a hand on his sword. He only relaxed slightly when he saw it was a woman who emerged from the smoke.

“Is that…?”

“Mythal,” Bull said. “Or so I imagine.” James watched as Morrigan and Nassella spoke with the woman. They did not reach for their weapons, so he believed they weren’t in danger. But they did not look happy. “We could ask Solas,” Bull added.

“No,” James muttered, casting his glance briefly toward where the elf was stationed a few meters away. He didn’t want to ask Solas, no matter how curious he was about this woman. If it really was Mythal, that would make her a god…

He didn’t want to think about what that meant. He had seen no evidence of his own god in so long. What was Nassella thinking, confronted with one of hers…?

The woman didn’t look like a god. Yes, she had arrived in a cloud of smoke, but aside from her elaborate, pointy hairstyle, she looked human… or elvhen. James supposed he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t believe Mythal was really a god, even if someone with her name showed up in the flesh.

“You know they broke up,” Bull offered.

James frowned and looked at Bull, confused as to why the man was bringing Nassella and Solas up now. “I know they were fighting.” He didn’t want to suspect anything further, didn’t want to acknowledge the bit of hope that had taken root when he had seen the two elves fighting that morning, or riding paces apart on the trail…

“They’re through,” Bull repeated.

“They’re probably just fighting.”

No, James didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to think about what it could mean if they were really through. Nassella had said she loved him just a few months prior…

But there was no guarantee she would still feel the same. James still doubted she had ever felt that way at all.

“You should tell her how you feel.”

James stopped pacing, then folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t have anything to tell her,” he said, glaring at the Qunari.

Bull raised his brows. “We both know that’s not true.”

James felt hot, and he turned away, looking back toward Nassella and Morrigan, the two women still conversing with the figure that had emerged from the smoke. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Bull grumbled. “I’ve watched you look at her for months now. You’re miserable around her. And now that you have the chance, you say you won’t do anything about it.”

James turned back toward the Qunari. “I’m not miserable,” he said. Bull opened his mouth, but James shook his head. “And even if, theoretically, I did want to say something to her… I’d wait. She just broke up with Solas. I wouldn’t just… move in on her that quickly. It’s not right.”

Bull let out a long sigh, eye drifting toward the altar. “Solas couldn’t have picked a worse time to drop her like this. And after taking her vallaslin… She needs to know she’s not alone.”

James knew it was a terrible time, and he was furious with Solas for it. He could see how upset Nassella was, how much she was hurting. It was why he couldn’t talk to her. She loved Solas, and it would be some time until she was ready to move on. And James couldn’t assumed she would want to move on with him.

But Bull was wrong about one thing, and as the woman disappeared into another cloud of smoke and Nassella and Morrigan began their walk back across the clearing, James shook his head. “She’s not alone Bull, and she knows it. Solas isn’t the only person she has.”


	110. Bare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey wonderful readers!
> 
> So, we are nearing the end of the story, but I am afraid that updates will likely be coming more slowly over the next few weeks. I would like to get a few chapters ahead to make sure everything is covered and written as well as I can, but that will take some time as I also work on finishing up my Master's thesis. So, stay tuned, the end will come eventually, just not likely on a weekly updating schedule.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me this long!
> 
> Also, this chapter is NSFW at the end. :)

The return to Skyhold was one of the most painful and awkward journeys Nassella could ever remember taking. While Solas kept his distance well enough during the day, she still saw too much of him for her liking, and every time she looked at him she felt hot with anger.

And at night… she entered her tent alone, and instead of anger her body filled with a permeating ache. She had spent far too many nights alone since leaving her clan, and that had started to change with Solas more often sharing her bed. But that had ended, abruptly, and she felt even colder for it. It didn’t help that sleeping alone left her thoughts free to roam, and she obsessed over her missing vallaslin, and the implications of what had occurred at the altar to Mythal…

Mythal had been there, or at least some part of Mythal inside the body of Morrigan’s mother. Nassella couldn’t even be amazed by the realization that one of her gods still walked the earth. She was still too repulsed by the knowledge they had kept slaves. All she could feel toward the woman was anger, even if she gave Morrigan the knowledge to match Corypheus’s dragon’s power.

Morrigan had been horrified to discover her mother harbored the soul of an ancient elvhen goddess, a goddess that Abelas claimed had died. Nassella was glad she had decided not to take it. She had hesitated then to bind herself to anyone, even the goddess she had once honored on her face, but after learning what Mythal had done, what she had really done, Nassella was even surer of her decision to deny the Well. She would not be bound to anyone, especially a woman who had kept slaves.

But even with the reassurance that the decision she had made in Mythal’s temple was the right one, Nassella could not get rid of the guilt that rattled her every night as she tried to fall asleep. It was then, while she was alone, that she remembered most clearly her clan and how she had abandoned them by giving up her vallaslin. She tried not to think about her sister or her mother and how they had died with slave markings on their faces, but it was impossible. She tried not to think of how disappointed they would be in her, but she felt their displeasure nonetheless.

She tried to distance herself from everyone else in the group. Solas stayed out of sight while they were in camp, but the others refused to give her space. She understood why Morrigan sought her out to talk about the knowledge she had gained from the Well, and discuss the possible moves Corypheus might take next. But Nassella realized quickly that James and Bull went out of their way to keep her close.

It started the second night in camp on their return journey. Nassella tried to eat quickly so she could disappear into her own tent, but she had barely taken two bites when James took the seat next to her. She said nothing, just stared into her own bowl, but she couldn’t ignore how close James was to her, eating just as quietly a few inches away. She could feel the heat of his body, detect the way the air shimmered every time he moved. It was difficult to stay angry when someone like him, someone she loved, was that close. She felt calmer with him nearby, and that just led to confusion. She shouldn’t feel so content next to someone else. Not yet.

And then Bull sat on her other side, nearly as close as James. And then the two warriors began talking over her head, Bull getting more details from James about the battle around Mythal’s Temple, sprinkled with stories from previous fights, and wandering even further back before either had joined the Inquisition…

It was impossible to stay focused on Solas with their voices so close, and more than once she found herself smiling into her bowl of food, even laughing quietly a few times before the meal was finished. She listened to their conversation and forgot her pain, if only for a few moments.

She joined in their conversation the next night, as James and Bull veered into questions about his days of schooling back on Earth.

“You’re specialized training didn’t begin until you were grown?”

“Yeah,” James replied, bouncing his leg a little closer to hers. “Everyone pretty much learned the same stuff until we were eighteen, then you decided what you wanted to do, like Naomi deciding to focus on living things.”

“And you chose to study religion?” Bull asked skeptically.

James shrugged. “Yeah.”

Nassella glanced up into his eyes, feeling warm when a small smile crossed his lips. She knew he struggled with his own beliefs, and she wondered if he felt like she did now; confused and betrayed, unsure of what she believed, hurt because something that had once brought her comfort now felt like pain. “Why religion?” she asked him.

His smile broadened, and he flicked his gaze toward Bull before answering. “I thought it was interesting.”

“What did you want to do? Become a religious leader?”

James shook his head. “I… didn’t really know. I didn’t want to be a leader though. And now…” he shrugged again. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore. Your gods are more real than mine has ever felt.”

Nassella frowned and looked away. “That’s not necessarily a good thing,” she muttered. “I think… I’d prefer if they had stayed in stories.”

“You… aren’t glad to have met Mythal?” James asked.

Nassella shook her head. “No,” was all she said, before retreating to her tent.

She wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, even James, about her vallaslin.

But she looked forward to the evening meal more and more. It felt normal to talk with her companions around the fire at night, and James and Bull never wavered in including her in their conversations, sitting on either side of her without fail every night. Solas had shattered the life she had been building around him, shattered the view she had of her own people, grinding the pieces into her chest when he left so soon after removing her vallaslin. But by the time Skyhold appeared, sitting high and cold at the end of the trail winding through the Frostback Mountains, James and Bull had started to pull those shards out with every smile, every question and comment that had nothing to do with Solas or Mythal or her vallaslin. Every shared laugh felt warm and full and real, and though the wounds still pierced her heart, looking at Solas no longer made them tear wider.

But though her loneliness was less during the day, nights were still too painful. She wished she could find peace while sleeping alone, but she hated returning to her empty bedroll every night. She couldn’t help but wish that Solas was still sleeping next to her, and knowing that was impossible, considered asking if Morrigan would share her tent just to hear the sound of another’s breathing. But she never summoned the courage.

Then one night she walked away from James after a considerably laughter-filled conversation and thought how nice it would be to sleep next to him and her chest ached, the wounds left by Solas salted with the knowledge that she could have had it. James had loved her once, and instead of exploring her own feelings she had pushed him away, sure she would only be happy with Solas.

She cried herself to sleep that night, wishing she could go back to her past self, tell that woman every mistake she would ever make, do things better so she could avoid this aching hurt…

But that was impossible, and when Nassella passed beneath Skyhold’s gates, the fortress just as quiet as she had left it, she knew she had to stop wallowing in her misery and hurts. Corypheus was still somewhere out there, wandering Thedas and planning his next move. But now he was without an army, and Nassella had her own weapon in Morrigan to use against his lyrium dragon. It was time to focus, plan the Inquisition’s next move to end this threat to Thedas for good.

That resolve only lasted as long as it took Nassella to guide her mount into the stables and unpack. She was giving her hart a few last pats on the nose when Naomi appeared, the woman leaning her arms and chin against the top of the stall’s door. “Hey Ness,” she said quietly. “James said you were back here and would want to see me.”

Nassella was half turned away, and she took a deep breath before facing her friend. She watched as the other woman took in her bare face, her mouth dropping open slightly as she processed the changes in her features. Then she frowned and looked away, lips working slightly as she tried to decide what to say.

“Solas removed them,” Nassella told her friend first, before the woman strained herself in an attempt to be tactful. “On the road… he told me what they are really for. What they really mean. He offered to take them away and I… I said yes.”

Naomi looked back, a worried frown still pulling together her brows. “And what do they really mean?”

Nassella felt herself starting to cry, a tear slipping down her cheek. She had done so well on the road keeping herself together outside of the privacy of her tent. But the desire to appear strong at all times was gone around Naomi. “I don’t… really want to talk about it here,” Nassella whispered, wiping at her face. She still couldn’t fall apart here where others could see. Especially where Solas might see.

Naomi just nodded. “Ok, ok. We’ll go somewhere else. Your room, or mine. Cullen hasn’t gotten back yet…”

Nassella latched herself to Naomi once they entered the privacy of the human’s rooms, and she was still wrapped around Naomi’s soft warm body when she woke several hours later from a nap. Nassella let out a long sigh, nose filled with Naomi’s scent when she took another breath in, and smiled. Naomi had agreed immediately when Nassella asked if she could stay the night, and hadn’t flinched when Nassella snuggled against her body under the covers.

She had told Naomi everything, and the other woman had held her tighter, whispered _I’m sorry_ over and over. Naomi hadn’t known exactly what to say beyond that, but Nassella hadn’t cared. She was just happy to finally talk, to finally be with another person.

Naomi was shifting in Nassella’s arms, coming awake from whatever disturbance had also brought Nassella from her dreams. The human let out a long sigh, and pulled Nassella closer as she blinked open her brilliant blue-green eyes.

A small frown pinched the brows above her eyes when she saw Nassella, and the elf realized she may have overstayed her welcome. “Sorry Naomi,” she whispered, starting to wiggle away. “I can sleep next to you…”

But Naomi did not let her go. “It’s alright,” Naomi said sleepily, yawning. “You can stay close. That… doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

Nassella smiled and pulled herself once more against Naomi’s body. “Do I have Cullen to thank for that?”

Naomi laughed softly, a small affirmation. “Snuggling with my best friend fully clothed really doesn’t seem like much after sleeping with him. And I… know that you like to be held.”

“Thank you,” Nassella whispered, blinking away a few tears. It really was easier to cry around Naomi, and the presence of another body felt unbelievably calming after the journey.

“Of course. Anything you need, just let me know.”

Nassella didn’t think there was anything Naomi could do besides listen. Nassella didn’t need anything, just time to move past the love that she still had for Solas. Time to let her heart heal after he abandoned her.

“Do you think he ever loved me?” Nassella whispered after a few moments. It was a question she had tried to avoid, a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. It might be worth it, despite the pain, if he had actually cared.

“Yeah, I’m sure he did,” Naomi responded. “I think he probably still does.”

Nassella shook her head. “He can’t still love me. He wouldn’t have left like that if he did.” She had been wrong the entire time. He had hesitated to move forward with her not because he was cautious, but because he had been unsure of his feelings for her. “I was the one who kept pushing us together,” she mumbled. “We weren’t together because he loved me.”

Naomi ran one hand gently along Nassella’s arm. “You could try talking to him again, see if he has anything more to say.”

“No,” Nassella said. “I can hardly stand to look at him. I couldn’t possibly talk to him.”

“Ok,” Naomi said softly. “But I don’t know what to tell you. I know he loves you, and I don’t know why he would want to leave you.”

“I don’t either,” Nassella responded. It didn’t make sense that he would tell her about the vallaslin as a way to show he cared, only to leave… she couldn’t rationalize his actions, couldn’t understand what had happened during that kiss to make him pull away…

Unless…

“Maybe it’s because I gave up my vallaslin,” Nassella said, her voice hollow. “He must have realized how I threw my clan away, threw everything I am away. It must have turned him away…” She brought a hand toward her face and traced where her tattoos should have spread. “I can’t believe I let him remove them.”

Naomi squeezed her tighter. “He didn’t leave because of your choice. It’s understandable you would want them gone… and he was the one who offered. Don’t feel bad about not wanting those sorts of markings anymore. I probably would have done the same thing.”

“But they aren’t slave markings anymore,” Nassella whispered. “They are Dalish… they connected me to my family, to all Dalish elves. Without them I’m…,” she sniffed, a few tears falling down her cheeks. She pressed her face into Naomi’s chest “I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re still Dalish,” Naomi replied quietly. “The vallaslin aren’t what made you Dalish… it’s your beliefs that did that, not tattoos. Solas didn’t take that away from you.”

“I guess,” Nassella mumbled, unconvinced. The vallaslin were so important, what every young elf looked forward to receiving...

“I’m still American,” Naomi continued, voice growing thick. “I don’t live in America anymore, I wear different clothes and speak a different language and eat different foods… but that doesn’t change who I am. I believe the things I do because of where I was raised, because of what my parents taught me. And even when my beliefs change… I can never separate myself entirely from my past.”

Nassella thought about that, and for the first time in days considered her Dalishness aside from her lost vallaslin.

She was a hunter, taught to stalk her prey from the trees by her mother. She could never understand humans and the fear of mages that locked so many up in Circles when her sister had been a mage, a bright flame that served her clan by healing and protecting. She preferred the open air over stone walls, walked without shoes so she could feel the dirt and stone and grass beneath her feet, craved simple roasted meat and honey straight from the comb, and though she loved a soft warm bed, that bed was always better when warmed by the body of family or friend…

The wounds in her chest eased even more, a tightness that had twisted there let loose. Nassella thought she needed more time to heal, but she had already started on the road with James and Bull, her hurts soothed by their friendship, their love. Nassella pictured James smiling at her and couldn’t help but smile at the thought. They hadn’t let her be alone after Solas left her.

And she was not alone now, not with Naomi there. There was more to being Dalish than vallaslin, and there was more to being loved than having a lover.

Nassella pulled away enough to look directly into Naomi’s eyes, and realized Naomi had started to cry. “Why are you crying?” she asked her friend

Naomi shrugged. “Remembering home just catches me off guard sometimes. I’ll be fine.”

After all this time it still hurt. Nassella understood, and wished she could help, make Naomi feel at least a little better, just as her friend had helped her…

And Nassella remembered. The eluvian. The Anchor. She _had_ a way to help.

Solas had advised against attempting to send Naomi and James home, at least until the Breach had been closed. But Nassella was tired of holding the information back, tired of her friends believing they were trapped here forever. She had already waited far too long to tell them. Naomi was in love with Cullen, and Nassella hated to think how impossible it would be for Naomi now to choose. Unless Cullen chose to return with Naomi to Earth. Nassella wouldn’t blame her commander for wanting to escape to a world where Corypheus was not.

Of course she would have to be careful about opening rifts into another world. She would likely need Solas’s assistance.

Nassella thought all these things while she watched Naomi wipe away her tears, and realized by the end that her chest was aching again, not unlike the pain that had hollowed out her chest when Solas broke off their relationship.

She didn’t want to lose her friends.

She was not alone, but she did not have the extensive family she had grown up with. Her companions among the Inquisition were few, and both Naomi and James were among her most trusted friends…

Nassella still did not want to lose them, especially now that she had lost another man she loved.

She started to shake, to panic, imagined James and Naomi stepping through a rift and disappearing forever. She realized how few friends she would have left, how little hope for a future surrounded by people she loved...

Her clan was gone. Solas was gone. She knew her other companions would likely move on someday, but if Naomi and James returned to Earth…

_I would never see them again._

_I would never get another chance with James._

The thought jarred Nassella, but the stab of pain to her heart was the most surprising. How could she be thinking about James?

Because she had always loved him, right alongside Solas.

Nassella knew it was love healing her pain, but she hadn’t really considered that it was her own love. Solas had broken her heart, but he had never had it entirely to begin with, and that meant there were pieces left undamaged, pieces that were bruised and battered by things James and done and said, but still whole…

But she could not think this way. Not if James and Naomi were to leave.

And James had rejected her once. He might do it again.

That might break her for good, destroy what was left of her heart.

Watching him leave might still do that.

“What’s wrong Ness?” Naomi asked. Nassella blinked and closed her mouth, realizing she had been lost in her thoughts for too long, her emotions running across her face. She focused once more on Naomi’s eyes and made her decision.

“I just want to show you something, in the morning,” Nassella said, returning her head to Naomi’s shoulder.

“Ok,” Naomi said, settling back into the bed.

Nassella took another deep breath, thinking Naomi had a wonderful scent. Horses didn’t smell like halla, but there was still something comforting about the musk of animals. “I love you Naomi,” Nassella whispered.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

Nassella almost told Naomi the rest, that she loved James. But she was afraid. Afraid to so quickly explore what she had with him, remembering clearly how he had pulled away from her that night in Orlais. She couldn’t handle his rejection a second time, especially after being rejected by Solas.

And she didn’t know if James would want to leave Thedas.

It was too soon. For so long Solas had guided her, offered advice, held and kissed and loved her… She couldn’t just let that go. Something about James had always pulled her in, made her feel warm and safe and protected and loved... but she didn’t think her feelings would be returned, and she was afraid that her desire for James was a reaction to losing Solas, an attempt on her part of find some measure of comfort wherever she could.

She still needed more time to sort herself out, determine if what she felt would last beyond her grief. She needed time to regain the strength, and the courage, to offer her heart up again. James had hurt her before, and after Solas, she wasn’t sure she could handle him doing it again.

 

* * *

 

James stood with his arms crossed in front of the eluvian, wondering what Nassella wanted to show him there so early in the morning. He had assumed they were finished with the giant mirror.

She had sent him ahead, and he thought she was getting Morrigan. But it was Naomi who first entered the room, followed a second later by Nassella, her expression grim and lips an even thinner line than usual. James realized why she looked so drawn when the third figure passed through the door.

Solas.

James could feel the tension as they approached, watched as Nassella moved away from Solas, Naomi between the two elves as a buffer. His sister looked no more comfortable than the others, and he knew how much she would dislike being caught up in Nassella’s break-up. James had rather hoped himself he was done having to see Nassella and Solas together. While he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the fact that the two had separated, and felt relief every night Nassella slept alone, he also saw how upset Nassella was every time she looked at Solas. She was forced to be near him while they travelled, but he had hoped she would take the chance to stay away from the other man in Skyhold.

But Solas’s presence did not mean anything was better between the two former lovers, and James was happy to see Nassella was still just as distant, still as cold toward Solas as she had been since that morning she returned from the wilds alone. She had not once tried to return to his arms, or attempted to convince him to take her back. Every day they stayed apart, the surer James felt that they were really through, and he had started to hope that maybe someday he would have a chance. He tried not to think too far ahead, but she had told him she loved him once, and though he hadn’t believed her then…

She still might not. Maybe he was wrong to interpret the way she smiled at him around the fire as something more. But Naomi insisted she loved him. So did Bull.

Maybe in a few weeks… he would try to find out if they were right.

Nassella stood straight and nodded at him. “Thank you for coming,” she said with a small smile.

James grinned back. “What did you want to show us?”

Nassella’s smiled faded and she shifted her eyes toward the giant mirror. “This.”

James frowned. “The eluvian? We already know what it does.”

Nassella cleared her throat. “I… think we could use it to send you home. Send you back to Earth.”

James’s breath caught in his throat. “What?”

Nassella crossed her arms and stared with wide eyes at the eluvian. “Morrigan said some of the eluvians lead to other places… other worlds. I thought… one might lead to your home.” She blinked a few times and cleared throat. She held up her left hand, the Anchor flickering a faint green. “And if not, I could open a rift… like I did at Adamant. With Solas’s help, I could send you back through the Fade to your home.”

James turned toward Solas, the elf standing with legs slightly apart and hands clutched behind his back, his own gray gaze directed toward the eluvian. Tension wound tight in James’s chest as he asked, “Is it possible?”

Solas shifted his eyes toward James and nodded. “Theoretically, yes. But it is not something you should attempt while Corypheus remains. Nassella cannot risk herself in this way.”

James nodded back and looked at the eluvian again. Of course Nassella couldn’t do anything right then, but in the future…

No. He couldn’t go back to Earth in the future. Not when Nassella was finally free, not when he might have a chance with her. He couldn’t leave her behind…

But he felt himself pulled toward the mirror, the tension in his chest coalescing into a bubble of hope. Home. Could they really return? Could they go back to where their lives were peaceful and safe and easy...?

James couldn’t move, couldn’t decide. Yes, life was easier on Earth, but there was less for him there now. His family was dead, Makenzie would have moved on… In Thedas he had a purpose, something he was actually good at…

And Nassella.

He didn’t know what to do, and so he said nothing. It might not even be possible. He didn’t want Nassella to risk herself opening rifts, and if they had to pass through the Fade…

“We can’t go back.”

James looked at Naomi, her eyes red. He had the impulse to argue, to insist that no, they could return, _should_ return. She couldn’t hesitate because of Cullen. She couldn’t decide his fate just because she had found love.

He hated himself for thinking it. Cullen wanted to marry Naomi. James shouldn’t want his sister to lose someone like that…

“Cullen could go with you,” Nassella offered quietly.

Yes. Cullen could come to Earth with them. Naomi could still be with him…

But James shook his head. That couldn’t work either.

He realized what Naomi was talking about, why they couldn’t go back.

“No,” James said quietly, meeting Naomi’s eyes. “We can’t go back, not after all this time.”

Naomi nodded, and he saw a tear slip down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath. “It’s been nearly two years,” his sister said quietly. “They think we’re dead. We can’t just show up after all this time with no explanation. Earth isn’t like Thedas. People can’t just drop out of the sky…”

“And our abilities,” James added, glancing at Naomi’s chest. She brought a hand toward the amulet and nodded again. “There’s no way to explain those. If anyone found out, there would be questions we can’t answer.” He shook his head. “And if Naomi can’t access the Fade from Earth, she would die.”

Naomi looked toward Nassella. “We would have to lie for the rest of our lives, hide what we are. At least here we can… live normally.”

Nassella was staring at James, her brows pulled together. “Really?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

James nodded. “Really.” And it was a weight off his chest, the tension releasing his body. Even if there wasn’t a choice, having to stay felt right. Knowing he wouldn’t have to leave Nassella behind felt right. He couldn’t believe he had ever considered doing it at all. “You’re stuck with us.”

Nassella let out a strangled sob, and had her arms wrapped around Naomi’s waist in the next instant, her head pressed into Naomi’s chest, her narrow shoulders shaking as she started to cry. James stared for a moment, dumbfounded. The last time he had seen her cry so openly was when her clan had been killed…

“Hey now,” Naomi soothed while she rubbed Nassella’s back. “It’s alright.”

“I’m just so happy,” Nassella managed to get out through her crying, voice muffled slightly by the fabric of Naomi’s clothes. “I wanted you to be able to go home, but… but I didn’t want to lose you either. I’m so glad you’re staying.”

“We are too,” Naomi told her. She looked up toward James. “At least I am.”

Nassella peaked an eye out from Naomi’s body and looked at James, the green iris even more stunning surrounded by tear-stained red. “I’m glad too,” he told her, wishing he could take Naomi’s place and hold Nassella while she cried. “I don’t think I would go back even if it was possible.”

That sent Nassella into another wave of tears, and while Naomi attempted to comfort the shorter elf James glanced at Solas.

He was watching Nassella with what James could only interpret as pain. No doubt he was thinking the same as James, wishing that Nassella had her arms around him, her face pressed against his chest…

But Solas had given up any claim he might have on Nassella’s emotions. James suspected Solas had probably made her cry multiple times since he broke off their relationship. He clearly didn’t care about how much she cried.

Solas shifted his gaze toward James, and finding the man staring at him, quickly schooled his expression into neutrality. James wondered what Solas thought of them staying in Thedas. He decided that the elf probably didn’t care either way.

James was caught off guard when a pair of hands gently slipped around his waist, and slim but surprisingly powerful arms pulled him tight. He gently placed his own arms around Nassella’s shoulders, smiling down at the top of her head, the pointed tips of her ears peaking beyond the curtain of her dark hair. He felt a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach, and wished she wasn’t holding him because she was upset.

“There’s no reason to cry,” he told her gently. “We’re not going anywhere. I promise.”

Nassella nodded, her head resting somewhere between his chest and stomach. “I know,” she mumbled, pulling away, too soon, and wiping at her face. She shook her head and turned more fully away, walking a few steps toward the mirror, her back turned as she attempted to bring her emotions under control.

This time when James looked at Solas the elf was frowning, his shoulders raised a little higher with tension. But he was watching Nassella, not James, and after a few seconds he nodded, then abruptly turned and left the room.

James was glad to see him go. It was one less thing to potentially upset Nassella.

Naomi wandered the few steps it took to stand by his side, letting out a long sigh. “Are you sure you’re alright with staying here?” she asked quietly.

James looked into her eyes, still a little bright from tears. “Yeah, I am,” he told her earnestly. “There’s nothing on Earth for us now.”

Naomi crossed her arms. “We still have grandparents, extended family, friends…”

“And they all think we’re dead,” James reminded her. He looked back at the eluvian, standing tall and dark against the wall. “Besides, I’m not sure how using the eluvian would work out, and I’d rather not have to go back through the Fade. That didn’t work so well for us the first time.”

Naomi nodded, but her eyes were filled with disappointment. “I know, it’s not possible. But if it was, and I could take Cullen…” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “No. It’s impossible. I can’t keep hoping that it isn’t.”

James reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a half-armed hug. “We’ve come this far and made it,” he told her. “This is our home now.”

And it felt like it. Now that James knew they could never use that tall cold mirror, or any other method, to return home, whatever last vestiges of hope that tethered him to that old world fell away. Thedas, with its conflicts and magic and sweeping landscapes and strange creatures… was home, and they had both managed to carve out their own corners to occupy.

Nassella had finally started to calm, but before she turned back toward them, Naomi was whispering again. “You should ask her to the tavern tonight.”

James frowned. “I know you think she likes me Naomi,” he responded just as quietly, switching to English in the hopes that Nassella wouldn’t be bothered to translate. “But she just broke up with Solas. I can’t just ask her out—“

“It wouldn’t be asking her out,” Naomi interjected. “You would probably invite her to the tavern even if she was still with Solas. Don’t do anything differently. Just ask her as a friend so things can go back to normal for her. I think it will help.”

James couldn’t argue, and part of him was desperate to spend more time with Nassella. Selfishly, he wanted her to know he was available, that he was there for her, so that when an appropriate amount of time had passed, it might be easier to convince her to give him another chance…

So as she turned from her corner, dry-eyed and with a small smile now on her lips, James didn’t hesitate to smile back. “Want to get a drink tonight?” he asked as they walked toward the door. “Bull, Dorian, Varric, and the Chargers will probably be there.”

Nassella beamed, and he swore she started to blush as she looked up at him. “Yes, that would be nice.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen passed beneath Skyhold’s gates with a thunder of hooves, eyes still stinging from the sharp winter winds that blew against the bridge leading to Skyhold. He had noticed a few iced patches on the crossing and made a note to send some soldiers out with picks to remove the hazard.

But first he needed to find the Inquisitor, confirm with his eyes that she had really returned to Skyhold by some magical mirror, and was not actually dead back in the Arbor Wilds…

He had left the bulk of the army behind to return to Skyhold on foot, racing ahead with Leliana, Josephine, and a contingent of soldiers on horseback as soon as affairs were settled in the wilds. Skyhold had been left alone for too long, and though the red Templar army had been essentially destroyed in the battle, Corypheus had escaped with his dragon, and that meant they were still potentially vulnerable.

But Skyhold was intact, and Cullen caught sight of the brunette elf on the stairs leading from the Great Hall as he pulled Obsidian to a halt. Tension that had been coiling in his back and neck for the past week lessened slightly.

Nassella was still alive. Their victory at the Arbor Wilds finally felt complete.

“The Inquisitor is here,” he said, turning toward Leliana who had pulled up at his side. “She really did survive.”

Leliana let out a quiet sigh and nodded. “Thank the Maker. I did not think her letter a fake, but to see her in person is a comfort.”

Cullen nodded. “We will need to arrange a meeting as soon as possible. There will be much to discuss.”

“Perhaps we could have some time to clean up after the journey,” Leliana suggested. Then she shifted her blue gaze beyond his body and grinned. “And I imagine you will want to reacquaint yourself with Naomi…”

At the mention of her name Cullen turned and immediately sought Naomi’s form, finding her tall frame easily from his vantage, weaving quickly through the people and horses scattered in the courtyard. Cullen quickly dismounted and worked his way in her direction, smile already splitting his face when they finally locked eyes.

“Cullen!” Naomi exclaimed, closing the distance between them with a few final long strides. He caught her in his arms as she wrapped herself around him in an embrace, the armor around his body protecting him from the bulk of her crushing hold, but not entirely muting the way her entire body shook. She buried her face in his neck and let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and buried one hand in his hair.

“Naomi,” Cullen breathed back, holding her tightly back, though careful to keep from hurting her on the metal encasing his body. He smiled into her hair, body buzzing and thrumming when he smelled the scent clinging to her skin, felt her warm in his arms, heard her whisper _I love you_ in his ear…

He pulled away enough to take her face between his hands and guide their lips together. He licked at her mouth, reminding himself of the sweet taste of her lips, moaning softly when she crushed them even closer together with the hand still interlaced with the locks of his hair. He felt off balance as they both attempted to bring their bodies closer together, and decided he wouldn’t mind if they fell to the ground right there. At least he wouldn’t have to concentrate on standing as he reminded himself of every curve and ridge of her mouth, filled his senses with the feel and taste of her…

She pulled away with a gasp and a laugh. “I need to breathe,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his and smiling, her eyes bright and quickly locking with his. Cullen smiled back, inspecting the familiar pattern of freckles sprinkled across her features, and the flecks of green in her eyes, heart racing at how beautiful she was.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, fingers running along his scalp. Heat rose through Cullen’s body, and he felt the urge to get her alone, so she could do that while he was pressing himself inside of her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Cullen had too, and while that extended to everything he loved about her, forefront in his mind was the desire to relieve the pressure building in his core. They could talk later, but first, Cullen wanted to get her naked, and remember how beautiful _every_ part of her was…

Someone cleared their throat a few feet away, and Cullen tore his gaze away from Naomi to find Leliana standing next to the Inquisitor, both women carefully averting their eyes, though small smiles turned up their lips. Cullen’s face felt as hot as the rest of his body, and he reluctantly released Naomi’s face. “Yes?”

“We were thinking that a meeting set for an hour would suffice,” Leliana said, still grinning as she finally looked at Cullen.

“Of course, we could meet in two, if you need a bit more time,” Nassella offered, green eyes twinkling. Something about her face was off, Cullen thought, and it was only when Nassella looked away that he realized her tattoos were gone.

But before he could inquire further, Naomi stepped up and took his hand. “An hour is fine,” she said.

Cullen wasn’t sure it would be enough as he followed her through the great hall, his hand gripping hers as they quickly made their way with singular purpose toward the door that would lead them up to their tower room. He had no doubt everyone who saw them knew what they were hurrying to do, but he didn’t care, and when they closed the door to the tower behind them he pulled Naomi back by her arm, herding her back against the wall so he could kiss her again, long and deep.

Naomi kissed him back, but pulled away after a moment with a smile. “We only have an hour,” she reminded him, rolling her hips gently against his. “We should get upstairs if we want to do more than kiss.”

Cullen chuckled but released his hold on her, urging her to start up the stairs. “Yes, yes of course,” he said as he followed her, eyes fixed on the swing of her hips in front of his eyes. He needed to get those curves beneath his hands…

Unfortunately they were several stories below their room, and Naomi started asking him questions before they had climbed a single flight up.

“The battle went well?”

“We were victorious,” Cullen told her, urging her to move faster with a gently hand pushed against her backside. “Though at great cost.”

“I was… so afraid,” she confessed after the next turn. “James thought you were ok, but he didn’t know for sure. It wasn’t until we received your letter that I knew you were coming back.”

Cullen’s chest squeezed, and he fought the urge to pull her into another kiss, to reassure her he had really returned to her. “I’m sorry you had to stay behind,” he told her again, stepping onto the last flight. “But it really was dangerous with all the red Templars. Staying back was the right decision.”

“I know. Besides, I got a lot done here,” Naomi told him, stepping onto the landing and turning down the hall toward their room.

“Like what?’

She stopped before opening the door and glanced toward him, worrying at her bottom lip. Then she shook her head and pushed the door open. “I’ll tell you later. There’s a lot.”

Cullen didn’t argue, and the moment the door to their quarters closed kissed her once more in earnest. She kept him from pressing her back against a wall and instead carefully led them back toward their bedroom, pulling on bits of his armor and the ties holding clothes together the entire way.

She was nearly naked by the time they reached the doorway to their bedroom, and Cullen finally made her stop, pressing her against the doorframe so he could kiss at the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders, suckling at her pulse while he pulled loose the final ties holding her breast band together. The fabric was stubborn as he attempted to remove it from her body, and in his haste the fabric tore.

Naomi moaned softly at that, and Cullen was encourage to rip the rest of the clothing away. He quickly grabbed one of her exposed breasts, working the soft flesh under his hand as he kissed his way down her chest, grazing the warm amulet centered above her breasts. She moaned again, followed by a sharp gasp when he took her untended nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply.

She buried her hand in his hair and pulled him more firmly into her. Cullen growled and tugged at the smalls covering her bottom half, slipping them down over her hips enough for Naomi to work them entirely toward the floor with a few shakes of her hips and legs. She hooked a leg around his waist when she was free, and Cullen used his unoccupied hand to cup her ass and lift her entirely off the floor, pressing her against the door frame, rocking against her core with hard thrusts of his hips, cock pulsing with pleasure at the friction it induced.

“Oh God,” Naomi groaned, legs wrapped around his body and hips matching his thrusts. Cullen nipped at her peaked nipple with his teeth, licking the dimpled spot a moment later. Naomi whimpered and tugged at his hair, leading his lips back to hers, kissing him with fervor when they met, nibbling at his scar with full lips when she came up for a breath of air.

“Take us to the bed,” she demanded, unfocused eyes attempting to meet his. Cullen ground his hips into hers and her head fell back, her lips, swollen from kissing, parting with a sharp gasp. “Please.”

Cullen moved, securing her against his body with hands clasped beneath her ass, only letting her fall when they reached the bed. Cullen took one second to appreciate her sprawled naked before him, one nipple colored a little darker from his suckling, a few more red marks making a trail up toward her neck. She pushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes and flicked her tongue across her lips. Her other hand rested on her stomach, fingers wandering deliciously close to the thatch of hair hiding the folds of her sex.

He remembered that night he had walked in on her with those same fingers between her legs.

“Touch yourself,” he told her, using the hands still resting on her legs to urge her knees further apart.

Naomi’s eyes widened a little, but she nodded, and slowly slipped her fingers lower, until they pushed into her folds, giving Cullen glimpses of the glistening pink flesh as she started to work. “Like this?” she whispered thickly, slowly running her fingers along the length of her sex. Cullen nodded, cock throbbing at the sight and pressure building hot in his core. He started tearing at his remaining clothes, a few pieces of armor clanging against the ground as he frantically exposed his skin, desperate to finally have her.

He swallowed a groan when he finally removed his breeches and smalls, erection hard and aching for friction. He looked away from the fingers between Naomi’s legs and toward her face when he was finally bare, heart beating even faster when he saw the look in her eyes as she stared at him, face flushed pink. Finished with foreplay, Cullen crawled on the bed, taking the hand buried in Naomi’s sex. He intertwined his fingers with her own slick digits and pressed the hand into the bed, centering himself between her thighs.

With a few careful thrusts he was inside, encased in her wet heat. Naomi’s breaths came heavy and her lips pressed into his neck, one hand securely back in his hair. Cullen looked into her hooded-gaze, the tension in his groin wound even tighter. “Oh I love you,” Naomi said, her sex clenching around him as she pressed her hips into his. She closed her eyes and smiled, groaning softly when Cullen pushed a little deeper. “I’ve missed feeling you,” she continued, voice soft and breathy. “My fingers aren’t the same as you…”

“Neither are mine,” Cullen groaned, pleasure shooting through his body. He pulled back so he could thrust again, lightning spreading through his body. “Nothing can match you,” he continued, driving into her again. “So hot.” Another thrust, this one faster, a little deeper. “Wet,” he gasped, kissing her neck. Naomi keened softly and Cullen began working in earnest, pressing himself in and out of her sex until she was moaning incoherently. “And tight,” Cullen concluded with a gasp, her body clenching around his in response.

Cullen lost any more words he might say, entire existence shrinking to the joining of their bodies, focusing on keeping the most intense sensations wracking his body at bay while he urged her toward the edge of pleasure. He closed his eyes as she had done, focusing entirely on the feel of her body moving beneath him, sure if he looked into her eyes he would fall apart.

It was still over quickly, their bodies wound too tight with anticipation to last long. He felt her fall first, hips slamming into his as her back arched off the bed, a cry falling from the lips pressed into his neck. He let himself loose, angling her hips just a little higher up with a hand below her ass, finding the final bit of friction that sparked his own orgasm.

He collapsed when he was spent, her body expanding beneath his as she caught her breath. Cullen held his weight off of her, but waited as long as he could before pulling out of and away from her, melting into the bed to recover.

She rolled into him after another moment, snaking her hand over his chest. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, lifting her head to smile at him.

Cullen grinned. “You said that already.”

Naomi laughed softly. “Well I’m still glad. It’s lonely here with everyone gone.”

“I know,” Cullen said, reaching to move a lock of hair, damp from sweat, behind her ear. “But you said you kept yourself occupied.” Her smile fell slightly, which worried Cullen. “What is it?” he asked.

She searched his face, expression grim, then she shook her head and sat up. “I’ve discovered I can use the mana in the ring,” she said, raising her left hand.

And the sight caught Cullen by surprise. He had forgotten which finger she wore the ring on, and that he had placed it there.

It was the finger James had told him to place a ring when he asked her to marry him. But Cullen had already done it, and Naomi had said nothing.

He would have to speak with Dagna in the morning to arrange a new ring be made. And then plan his proposal.

His heart thumped at the thought.

Then a chest moved across the floor a few feet away, sliding across the stones with no indication of how heavy it was. “Maker,” Cullen swore, sitting up himself.

“It’s all right,” Naomi said. “It was me.”

Cullen frowned. “You?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ve been using my ability to change things in the Fade to manipulate the mana in the ring. I move the Veil around—“

“You use magic?” Cullen asked her, tearing his eyes away from the chest to Naomi’s face.

“It’s not exactly magic… I can’t make fire or heal or… really anything besides moving things around. But I’ve been working with Dorian to make barriers.”

Cullen gaped, then glanced back at the chest. It was essentially magic, and Naomi had wielded it.

“How did you… discover this?” he asked.

“By accident.”

He nodded. “Well… that is something.”

“Are you upset?” she asked him cautiously.

Cullen shook his head and reached for her hand. “No, of course not,” he told her, lifting up her left hand to kiss the ring. “I’m just surprised.”

She grinned. “Good. I can show you later everything I can do. I’ve been able to move some really big objects lately!”

Cullen smiled at her enthusiasm, then leaned into to gently kiss her lips. She followed him when he attempted to pull away, moving until she was straddling his lap. He gripped at her hips, pulling her closer. “Do you think we have time before your hour is up?” she asked, pushing him back on the bed.

He lifted a brow and nodded. “They’ll just have to wait if we don’t.


	111. Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiets = bike  
> Vlieger = kite

Nassella was drunk.

She stumbled her way through the crowds in the tavern, a little sparse as the majority of the army had yet to return from the Arbor Wilds, carefully holding two new drinks so they would not spill all over the floor. A few drops managed to slosh over the sides before she reached her destination, but for the most part the alcohol remained contained.

She slid one of the tankards toward James with a smile, body buzzing with happiness when he smiled back, and scooted over just a little bit so she could once more take her seat next to him. She sat a little closer than she had to, given the space, but didn’t care. The heat of his leg against hers felt far too good to keep her distance.

She was not being cautious that night, and was drinking more than she had in months in celebration. That morning she had been terrified that James was going to decide to seek a way home, and when he refused the offer, the relief she had felt had nearly overwhelmed her. For the first time since her clan had died, she had _bawled_ , even in front of Solas. For once, two people she loved were going to stay, two people who had every right and motivation and reason to leave, weren’t.

And she had to admit… the thought of losing James through that eluvian, standing there while he debated what to do, had been more painful than anything she had felt since the pain of losing her clan. Even watching Solas walk away from her had not left her so empty, terrified, frozen with fear and sorrow…

That pain had turned to joy when they said they would stay, and Nassella was still riding that wave. The world seemed less bleak knowing James and Naomi would continue being a part of it, so Nassella drank. And she stayed close to James, happy and warm knowing that _he_ would still be around for her. _He_ had decided to stay.

“Tell Ness how you lost your eye again,” James said, turning his smile toward Bull.

“He already tol’ me!” Nassella exclaimed with a giggle. “Months’go!”

James’s shoulders slumped. “Shit. It was a good story…”

“What about you James?” Bull asked. “You didn’t always heal up like you do now. What’s the worst injury you had back on Earth?”

Varric chucked. “Yeah Whiskers, let’s hear what trouble you got in back in your world.”

James took a long drink, shaking his head as he put the tankard back down. “I broke a lot of bones when I was a kid. I fell off my… fiets once and broke my leg. Just think of it like a… really small horse, but with wheels. Then there was the arm falling out of a tree, and my collar bone I don’t even know how many times…”

“How’d you break that?” Nassella asked, reaching up to tap on the ridge of bone running below James’s shoulder. James leaned slightly into the touch, then glanced down at her with a grin.

“Weeell,” he began, taking another drink before continuing. “Do you know what a vlieger is?”

“Of course we don’t,” Dorian said with a laugh.

James cleared his throat, mouth twitching down in a small frown. “Right, of course not. It’s a piece of fabric that you send up into the sky on a string… like a small sail. It catches the wind and rises up… sometimes really high.”

“A kite?” Bull asked.

James shrugged. “Maybe. Anyway, when I was like, eight, I was flying this big kite out behind our house on this really windy day. I was letting the… kite climb, wanting to get it really high, when all of a sudden this huge burst of wind came through. Before I knew it I was lifted right up off the ground. I held on to that kite, because it was new, and I started to fly across the field. Then just as suddenly as it started the wind stopped, and I dropped like a stone. Landed funny and broke my collar bone.”

Nassella frowned and shook her head. “That doesssn’t makessseense,” she slurred, head a little fuzzy as she tried to imagine the event James described happening. “Yer too big fer that to happen.”

James took another sip, lips curved upward. “I was as small as you once,” he said when he was finished, blue-green eyes twinkling down at her.

Nassella’s frown deepened, and she thought of herself lifted by such a wind. “Nooo,” she said, glaring at the table. “That still wouldn’t work…”

Bull let out a loud laugh, accompanied by the softer chuckles of Dorian and Varric. Nassella looked up, finding them watching her while they laughed. She glanced up at James and watched as his grin turned into a full-blown smile, a small chuckle rising from deep in his chest.

Nassella felt her face start to heat as she realized what had happened. “I can’believe you made thatup!” she scolded, softly slapping her hand against his arm, the hard muscle underneath barely responding to her hand.

James laughed louder, his legs spreading and pushing more firmly against hers. “You’re gullible when you’re drunk,” he responded.

“Am not!” Nassella exclaimed.

“You would have seen right through that story if you weren’t,” James said, still laughing.

Nassella felt herself smiling, despite her embarrassment. She hit him again, a little harder. James didn’t even flinch. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do more than that to get back at me,” he said a little quieter, privately.

Nassella narrowed her eyes. “Jusswait,” she said with a sniff, reaching for her tankard. “Nex’ time you assskme ‘bout Dalissshsstuff, you won’ know if I’m tellin’ the truth.” She drank deeply, body warming from the inside out with the alcohol and the sound of James laughing next to her.

“So what actually happened?” Dorian asked. Nassella looked up, just in time to see Dorian winking at Bull.

“Would you believe it wasn’t windy at all, and I broke my bone falling down as I was running to try and get that kite in the air?”

Nassella lost it, and let her forehead fall to the table with a _thunk_ as she laughed, imagining James, gangly and scrawny, running across a field, dark hair flopping down into his eyes, falling over his own feet…

“What’s got her so worked up?” she heard a voice ask. She turned her face to the side, cheek pressed to the table’s wood, and watched as Krem sat on the bench next to her, a number of the other Charger’s crowding the table behind him.

“Apparently James was not quite the fearsome warrior he is now when he was a child,” Varric offered as Krem scooted close against Nassella’s leg, pushing her even further against James. “Instead, he broke bones tripping over his own feet.”

Krem chuckled, looking over Nassella’s head to James. “We all start somewhere,” the Tevinter warrior said. “Can you make any more room James? Skinner needs a spot…”

James moved over an inch. “There’s no more room,” he apologized.

Nassella sat up quickly, head spinning a little. She rose to her feet and moved over, planting her backside on James’s thigh. “Here, I’msssmall,” she said, settling herself on the man’s leg, swinging one leg over so they dangled on either side of his own. “If I’m up here, there’sss pleny of room!”

Krem smirked, then took her place next to James. “Very true,” he said. Then _he_ winked at Bull.

Nassella followed the motion, body heating when she realized everyone was grinning, though only Dorian was actively staring at her. She realized what she had done, where she was sitting, and froze.

James was frozen as well, barely breathing if the stillness of his chest against her back was any indication. And the hand that had somehow landed on her hip in the transition was motionless, though gripping her tightly.

Why had she sat on his lap? What had possessed her to make room like this? They could have gotten another chair. She could have chosen to sit on Krem’s lap instead…

But she hadn’t. Her first instinct, her unconscious thought, had been to bring herself even closer to James, finally get the contact she had been seeking the entire night.

Body buzzing and sparking where her body contacted his, and acutely aware of how his leg pressed up between her own, Nassella took a deep breath and chanced a glance toward the man. He was staring at his drink, brows pulled together and nostrils flaring slightly, his face an even darker red than the drink could make it.

She was afraid he was angry.

“Is this… all right?” she asked softly, suddenly feeling less drunk.

His eyes shifted toward hers, and something in the way his pupil’s grew larger when his gaze met hers had Nassella’s heart racing. “It’s fine,” he said, nearly as softly. Then he swallowed, glanced at her lips, and looked away. The hand on her hip tightened its grip. “We needed more room.”

But Nassella couldn’t look away. His was not the expression of an angry man. No, his dilating pupils, the flush of his face, that hand gripping her body… all pointed to something far different. Far more exciting.

Creators… she loved him. Being this close just made that even more clear, just as having him hold her had made her aware of her feelings in the first place. She felt so _good_ when he was close, when he laughed, when he smiled at her. She looked down at his lips and licked at her own. Once again, she was in the perfect position to kiss him.

The lump at the front of James’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and Nassella forced herself to look away. She was far too drunk to be thinking like this… or perhaps not drunk enough.

Nassella reached for her drink, trying to catch back up with the conversation at the table while keeping her eyes away from the others. Especially from Bull. Her mind might not be working as well filled with drink as she was, but she was still perceptive enough to know that those grins, winks, and glances were at her expense.

But she found herself not caring. She was drawn toward James, and she was tired of fighting it. So she sipped her drink and relished the warmth of his leg beneath her bottom, and that hand still gripping her body. He offered a comment to the conversation she still could not follow, and the sound of his voice, warm and rough, sent shivers down her spine. Nassella finished her drink and waited for the effects to hit her body, contemplating whether she _was_ drunk enough to finally, finally steal that kiss…

She was placing her empty tankard down when the Anchor flared. Nassella winced, energy sparking up and down her arm, as if she was connected to a rift. She clenched her fist and tried to control the magic in her hand, but nothing changed.

“What’s wrong Ness?” James asked, reaching for her sparking left hand. She let him spread the fingers wide, exposing the green glow to the table.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, gasping when the magic flared again, and some invisible force started to tug on her arm, raising it into the air…

And then she heard the scream. Quickly joined by a second, then a third…

Nassella scrambled from James’s lap, stumbling slightly when her feet met the floor. James’s hands were on her arms in the next second, steadying her. One stayed there as she ran out of the tavern, keeping her on her feet until she could get out into the open…

She nearly stumbled again at what she saw, and her mouth dropped open as she looked into the angry sky, the heavens ripped and roiling with the garish green light of the Breach. “No,” she whispered, entire body thrown off balance by the sight of the spinning void. She felt as if she was falling, only held upright by James still gripping her arm. “No!” she repeated, stomach starting to heave. It was getting bigger, far bigger than it had ever been before she closed it.

This couldn’t be happening. She watched as pieces of green fell from the Breach, trailing fire, spreading destruction and demons once more over the land…

“Corypheus,” James said, holding her arm tighter. “He opened the Breach again.”

“Well shit.”

Nassella looked away from the storm to find Varric at her side, Dorian, Bull, and the Chargers all scattered behind. Her friends, her companions, all staring with horror and anger at the newly opened wound in the sky.

The rest of the fortress was in chaos, as more and more people realized what was happening. Soldiers were scrambling the man the walls, civilians were running for shelter within the stone walls…

They had to move. They had to fight. Corypheus could not get away with this now, after everything they had fought for these last years.

“Go,” she ordered, turning her eyes back to the Breach. It was still growing. “Get your armor, weapons, potions. We need to go. Now.”

They scattered, all but James, who stayed by her side as she rushed toward the keep and her advisors, catching her before she could fall when she stumbled on the stairs. With his help she reached the doors to the war room with no incidence and much quicker than she could have managed on her own. She paused before entering, her hand lingering on his, wishing she wasn’t so drunk.

“Sorry I asked you to drink tonight,” James said gruffly.

Nassella looked up at him and shook her head. “Issno’ your fault.”

He quirked his lip up briefly in an attempt at a smile. It made Nassella’s chest ache. They were always moving, always fighting. There was never time to just sit, be together. Kissing him would have to wait.

Part of her supposed it was for the best.

Still, she squeezed his hand before letting him go. “Get ready. I can handle it from here.”

Josephine and Leliana were already in the room, and Morrigan followed Nassella a moment later. Cullen was last to arrive, but he was strapped into his armor, though his hair was still unkempt.

“What is happening?” he asked as he approached the table. “Has the Breach been reopened?”

Nassella nodded, stomach still turning as she looked out the window. The Breach turned through the glass, off to the east. “Haven,” she said, leaning against the table to steady herself. She was sobering, but there was only so much drunkenness adrenaline could overcome. “The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” she continued. “He returned to the Breach and opened it. And it’s growing.” She rubbed at her hand, attempting to focus her mind.

“Inquisitor… are you drunk?” Leliana asked.

Nassella gripped the table’s edge. “Yes. I… didn’t expect thissswould happen _tonight…”_

“Perhaps we should let you sober,” Cullen said.

“I’ll be fine,” Nassella said, forcing herself to stand taller. “I will… sober soon enough.”

“We have no time to waste,” Morrigan added, her gaze distant. “The Breach will swallow the world if not closed.” Nassella knew she was consulting the voices from the Well, and the proclamation frightened her. The Well had not been wrong so far.

“But that would destroy Corypheus as well,” Josephine exclaimed, nervously turning a quill between her fingers. “Surely he would not risk such a thing.”

“He is out of options,” Leliana said, brows pinched while she studied the map. “We have destroyed the eluvian and way into the Fade. His army is destroyed. He will attempt to enter the Fade with the Breach, whether it brings the rest of the world with him or not.”

Nassella shook her head. “No. That will not happen. I won’t let it.” They had been through too much, lost too much, to fail now. She couldn’t let that happen, w _ouldn’t_ let it happen.

“The bulk of the army has not returned,” Cullen said. Nassella eyed the markers on the map indicating the army’s position. They were still at least three days way. “We must wait to confront Corypheus if you want their assistance.”

Nassella shook her head. There was no time to wait. “I have who I need,” she said, thinking of James and Bull and Solas and Dorian and all her other companions who were now preparing to leave. They had followed her across the continent for years, fought dragons and giants and demons, gone into the Fade and fought their way back again… “Corypheus has no army, and we have Morrigan to match his dragon… we can do this. Spare who you can to come with us, but keep most back to defend the fortress.”

Cullen nodded. “The Chargers are here. Take them with you.”

Nassella narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to go.

She looked up at her advisors, and felt her stomach twist. Josephine was crying, and Leliana’s eyes were bright. Cullen was dry-eyed, but his mouth was drawn into a thin line. Nassella stood, finally steady on her own feet.

“We’ll stop him,” she told them.

“Maker be with you,” Leliana said softly. Josephine mouthed the same.

Nassella tried to smile, but felt her face twist into more of a grimace. “Thank you,” she said before they could see, and turned to leave, Cullen on her tail to rally his few troops.

The hall was not empty when she exited the war room. First she saw Solas, already dressed in his armor, staff strapped to his back, belt loaded with potions and other supplies. Ready to follow her into battle.

She didn’t have time to address him, so she turned her attention to the others in the hall. James had not left, and he was arguing with Naomi.

Naomi disengaged from James once she saw Nassella, closing the distance between them with three long steps. “Nassella, take me with you,” the woman said.

“No!” James said, following his sister. “We have enough fighters.”

Naomi shook her head. “It’s not just to fight James,” she said forcefully, as if she had repeated herself multiple times. She held up her left hand, the green gem on her ring glinting faintly in the glow of the Breach, and looked at Nassella. “I’ve been wearing this for weeks now, collecting mana. Mages can use that mana, and they may end up needing it to replenish so they can cast more spells, or heal. You don’t know how long this battle will last…”

“You’re right,” Nassella said, quickly realizing the advantages of Naomi and her mana-filled ring. Maybe something good would come out of the silverite amulet after all. “We could use you.”

“Are you sure Naomi?” Cullen asked, stepping around Nassella to reach for the other woman. “You don’t have to do this. They can manage without you.”

“The mana stored in her ring could be invaluable during our battle,” Solas argued.

Naomi nodded and met Cullen’s gaze defiantly, though Nassella could tell she was scared. “I’m not staying back when I know I can help,” she said firmly. “There won’t be red Templars, so there’s no reason I should stay behind.”

Cullen frowned, but turned next toward Nassella. “I’m coming with you,” he declared.

But Nassella shook her head. So much could go wrong in this battle. “No, you need to stay here. If I fall… if we can’t stop Corypheus, you need to lead our army against him. You need to be here to launch a second attack.”

Nassella could see her commander struggle with her order, and she almost thought he was going to refuse her, insist again he come. If she failed, if Corypheus defeated them… Naomi would likely fall as well.

He wanted to come so he could protect Naomi. But Nassella needed him to stay back in case they were lost.

She hated that she had to think like this. Naomi had so much less experience than anyone else who would go to confront Corypheus. Under any other circumstances Nassella would agree with Cullen and James and leave the woman behind.

But Nassella knew Naomi understood the risks, and she still wanted to help. It didn’t surprise Nassella. Naomi squeezed Cullen’s arm. “I need to do this. I need to help,” she quietly told her lover. Cullen reached to cup her face, pain clear on his own when he looked at her.

But to Nassella’s surprise he did not argue, and instead grabbed Naomi’s hand with a determined nod. “I’ll help you prepare.” James glared as they retreated down the hall, then followed them a moment later, steps long and direct. Nassella watched him go, suddenly afraid. For him, for Naomi, for herself…

She might still have to say goodbye… to any number of her friends.

She turned to Solas, and for the first time in days felt nothing but a muted whisper of sadness. No anger, just the dull pain of a healing wound. So little time had passed between that night in the Wilds and that moment, but still she felt so little.

Yes, she had grieved. But she… was finding her way out.

And right now none of that mattered. Solas was an amazing fighter and a brilliant mage. She was glad he would be at her side. Just as he had been by her side from the beginning.

“Are you ready?” she asked him. This was it, what every other fight had been leading them to.

He nodded. “Yes. I believe we all are.”

Nassella hoped so.

 

* * *

 

Naomi’s hands shook the entire time she changed into her armor, and she found her fingers fumbling as she attempted to lace up her boots. She was struggling to tie a knot when a pair of hands joined hers, taking over where she was failing.

“Let me help you,” Cullen murmured.

Naomi dropped her hands and watched him work, trying to keep her breaths even to calm her racing heart. “Thank you.”

He finished quickly, then reached for her hand before looking into her eyes. “You’re afraid, Naomi,” he said quietly.

Naomi gripped his hands. “I’ll be fine,” she told him. But her heart would not slow down.

“It’s all right to be afraid,” Cullen said. “I know I am—”

“I know you don’t want me to go,” Naomi interrupted. “But I _have_ to Cullen. I have to help…” She couldn’t stay behind. She could _help._ She would not let Nassella and James go ahead without the assistance she could provide.

But she was terrified. Corypheus had been nearly destroyed and this was his last attempt at victory. And like a wounded animal, he would throw back everything in retaliation, lash out with all the strength he had left, including his dragon. Naomi had no idea what would happen, and it scared her. She felt herself losing control.

Cullen reached for her face. “It’s all right Naomi,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to convince you to stay behind.” He ran his thumb along her cheek and she thought she might start crying. “But you must try to stay calm. You can be afraid, but you cannot let it affect you.” He gripped her tighter, his eyes locked with hers. “Please Naomi. You are brave. You are _strong…”_

She _was_ crying, and she tried to stop. The others were preparing themselves in the undercroft, and _they_ weren’t crying. She didn’t want them to see. “I’m only brave because of you,” she whispered. “This is what you would do.”

“No,” Cullen said, wiping away a tear. “You have never needed me to be brave. If anything, I’ve been the one holding you back.”

It was ridiculous. Without his example, Naomi knew she would not have attempted half the things she had done in Thedas. “I wish you were coming,” she said, wiping at her face as well. “I don’t want to say goodbye.” She had only just got him back.

Cullen shook his head. “This is not goodbye. You are with the best warriors in Thedas. You _will_ come back.”

Naomi nodded, taking more deep breaths. She could not fall apart. She had faced these same fears before, and she would do it now. And the motion of Cullen’s thumb, and his golden eyes fixed on hers, were helping. She could not panic when he was so close, when he was looking at her like this. Her body would not let her.

“Just remember everything you have learned, all of the training you have done. You can _do_ this Naomi.”

“I know I can,” she said, finally done shaking. She squeezed his hand. “I know.”

Cullen stood, hauling her up with him. “Remember, you are going primarily as support,” he told her, voice steady, gently commanding. “You are to provide the mages with mana when potions are not enough. Don’t be afraid to use your bow, but do not draw attention to yourself. There are warriors to take the brunt of the assault. Stay back with the mages. That is where you will be most useful.” He squeezed her hands. “And that is where you will be safest.”

Naomi nodded her understanding. While terrifying to consider what resistance they would meet, the plan was comforting. It was something to center her around, to cling to. She knew what she had to do, and she would do it.

Cullen leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers and placed his hands on her hips. “I am proud of you Naomi. So proud.” He angled his mouth to kiss her, driving even more of her fear away. “And I love you,” he whispered, squeezing her body. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Naomi responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his sweaty, musky, leathery, metallic scent.

“Do you have the coin I gave you?”

Naomi pulled away and wiped at her eyes, leading Cullen to her desk. She pulled open one of the drawers and rooted around until she found the small pouch where she had stored Cullen’s lucky coin. “I was afraid I would lose it in my pockets, so I’ve just been keeping it here,” she said as she overturned the bag and caught the coin in her hand, the visage of Andraste turned up.

“Give it here,” Cullen said, and when Naomi handed the coin over turned and walked toward the part of the undercroft used to create amulets and other magical accessories. Naomi followed him, and tensed when he used a small hammer to drive a nail through the disk. But it was soon clear what he was doing when he reached for a small chain and threaded it through the newly made hole. He turned back to Naomi with a small smile when he was done. “You won’t lose it this way,” he said as he slipped the chain over her head. It was a little long, but that didn’t matter when Naomi tucked the coin under her armor and clothes, the metal cold against her bare skin. “And it is a way I can be with you.”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“Is everyone armored?” Nassella called from the door. “The mounts are ready.”

Naomi’s smile fell, and she reached for Cullen’s hands. “I’ll see you soon,” she told him, pulling him into another hug.

“I know,” Cullen whispered as he clutched her back.

But they didn’t know, and Naomi struggled to hold back another wave of tears. She didn’t know if she would be coming back… this really could be goodbye.

“I love you,” she told him again. “I love you Cullen…” She was glad she had written him that letter, realizing now that she would not have the time to tell him everything she felt…

But she realized there was one thing she had not had the chance to tell him.

And now she was out of time.

She pulled away and ran back to her desk, picking up her journal with all her notes on lyrium, shoving it into Cullen’s hands as Nassella called for her from the door. “These are my notes on lyrium,” she told him, heart racing with renewed anticipation and anxiety. James’s impatient voice joined Nassella’s. “If I don’t come back, read it,” she told Cullen. “Ask Dagna if you have questions, then give the research to her. She’ll know what to do with it, who to give it to. These findings can’t die with me.”

Cullen shook his head. “You are not dying Naomi…”

Naomi swallowed. “I know… but if I do… just make sure you get this information out to others. Please Cullen, it’s important…” She wished desperately she had told him the night before about lyrium, and that it was likely living inside of him still. But she had thought she’d have time…

“What is it Naomi?”

“Naomi! We need to go!”

Naomi looked toward James at the door, angry and yelling at her to hurry. She looked back at Cullen and shook her head. “I don’t have the time to explain… I’m sorry.”

Cullen grasped the journal, and nodded. “You can tell me when you return.”

“Naomi!”

She shook her head, ignoring her brother, and stepped into Cullen’s arms for one final, desperate kiss. She pressed herself into him, memorizing the soft curves of his lips, the smell of his skin, the taste of his mouth…

He was finally the one to pull away, his eyes wet with tears. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

“NAOMI!”

She finally tore her gaze away from Cullen and walked away, grabbing her bow and quivers of arrows before stalking toward James. “I’m coming!”

She didn’t need to look back because Cullen was still by her side, and stayed there until she climbed on Liberty’s back and followed the others past Skyhold’s gates, their way lit by the garish green light of the still growing Breach.


	112. The Dragon

The world was in chaos below the Breach. Wind generated by the swirling maw whipped through trees and blew hard specks of ice and snow into their faces, those same trees and snow covered mountains eerily lit by the green light falling from the storm, the air filled with roars and otherworldly screams. It made Nassella sick, though she supposed that might still be the hangover.

It might also be because she was afraid.

The journey had been too long and not long enough. She’d had too much time to think about the coming battle and everything that could go wrong, and not enough time to work past those initial fears and lower her anxiety. She was thoroughly stuck in a spiral of worst case scenarios. Corypheus was somewhere in that storm ahead, waiting for them. He knew they were coming, and he knew they were caught by surprise.

Nassella could feel the magic flowing from the Breach, growing stronger with every mile they travelled, and by the time they reached the remains of Haven, it was distractingly uncomfortable, buzzing throughout her entire body. Her hand was the worst, insistently pulled toward the Breach, tingling and sparking until it was nearly painful.

Their mounts had been growing increasingly wild, and at Haven they decided to leave them behind. Nassella watched her companions dismount, noting how jumpy Cole had become, and the profanities Sera mumbled to herself. The other elf was nearly as wild as the horses, and constantly rubbed at her head and glared at the Breach. And though Solas was stoic as ever, Nassella could tell he carried more tension in his shoulders than usual. It wasn’t just the horses who were unsettled by the growing wound in the sky.

Her human and other non-elf companions seemed far less affected by the Breach, as they efficiently removed supplies from their saddles and released their horses. All except Naomi and James, who were pale and grimacing and struggling to focus on their tasks. Nassella watched James glare at the sky as he strapped his sword to his body, jaw clenched and a vein thrumming in his neck. Naomi leaned her forehead against Liberty’s for a moment before releasing the mare, breathing deeply and worriedly watching the swirling of the Breach with her fists clenched around her bow. Both of their eyes were glowing green. It was the clearest sign Nassella had for the extent of the turmoil around them, how close the Fade had been brought.

Only the stone walls of the Chantry remained standing as they moved through Haven, though piles of wood and stone showed where houses had been flattened by the avalanche. Nassella thought in passing that they should clean up the mess, rebuild. But there was no time for thoughts such as those, as they started encountering demons not long after leaving the village behind. Nassella pulled out her daggers and took to bringing down the monsters that had been stunned or frozen by the mages behind her. The fighting was routine, and helped to calm Nassella’s nerves more than the uneventful ride from Skyhold. Everyone was focused, grim with determination, and the demons fell quickly.

But there were too many of them, and Nassella realized after encountering the third wave that they were not moving fast enough. They would never reach the temple, and presumably Corypheus, if they attempted to kill every demon they came across. Especially as the monsters continued to rain from the Breach in screaming balls of green flame and light, only falling faster as the tear into the Fade grew larger.

But it was a different scream, distant and loud and bone-chilling, that convinced Nassella their approach needed to change.

Corypheus was waiting for them, along with his dragon.

And she was ready. Ready to end this conflict, to finally have some peace, to finish this fight the magister had started so many months before…

“We need to move faster!” she called to her companions when they found a break in the stream of demons. “We’ll never reach him at this rate!”

So close, they were so close. One more battle and this would be over…

“We could sneak past the demons,” James offered. “Try to avoid detection. We can always find them later.”

It was the best way to get to Corypheus, but Nassella didn’t want to find themselves trapped. “We can’t end up with a wave of demons on our back.” She needed her army to pull attention away as she moved ahead, as they had done in the Arbor Wilds.

But her army was days away, so Nassella scanned those she did have for inspiration, some sort of answer. Her eyes fell on Krem, and a plan took form.

Nassella ran toward the Tevinter mercenary. “Krem, I need you to keep the Chargers back. We’ll push ahead, and you follow cleaning up the demons as you go. Keep their eyes on you. We’ll focus our attention on Corypheus and his dragon.”

Krem nodded, hefting his sword to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t worry Your Worship, we’ll keep your back clear. Take down that bastard.” He grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “Good luck. It’s been an honor.”

Nassella blinked back a few tears and gripped his shoulder back, not trusting her voice to work as she nodded in return.

Orders were given and then Nassella started running, leading her now-reduced force through the demon infested land, dodging when they could and only engaging in fighting when there was no other way forward. It still took longer than she wanted, and her legs were burning from the sprint up the mountain when they finally reached the entrance to the destroyed Temple of Sacred Ashes, snow and ice digging into her exposed skin as the wind blew even more wildly.

But Corypheus wasn’t there, and Nassella’s heart thumped as she gripped her daggers and scanned the dark ruins. They needed the quickest way to the highest ground, as she was sure he would be there…

An explosion rocked the temple. Nassella ran toward the disturbance, dodging as stones the size of small boulders started to move, leaving the earth behind as they rose into the air. She glanced up at the Breach and felt her stomach twist. The maw filled nearly the entire sky, and she could see into the Fade, the broken and gnarled buildings and walls she had seen when she was there at Adamant hanging upside down above her head. She realized then that killing Corypheus might not be enough. He had torn wide the Veil, and she was not confident that she could heal it again.

“One thing at a time,” she whispered to herself as she jumped over a wall into a red-lyrium choked courtyard. “Kill the dragon, kill Corypheus, then put the sky back…”

A deep chuckle permeated the air, filling her ears as if the body producing that voice was no more than a few feet away. It sent a chill through Nassella’s entire body, and she walked around an outcrop of rock to finally find Corypheus, standing in front of a fallen visage of Andraste. The giant magister spread his arms, that orb that had placed the Anchor on her hand gripped in his, and lowered his torso in a mock bow at the sight of her. “I knew you would come,” he purred in his deep, disembodied voice.

Of course she had come. He had laid his trap, pushed the world toward destruction as bait. How could she ignore the storm above her? How could she do anything but fight…?

She’d never had a choice. From the moment that mark appeared on her hand her path had been clear. She’d left her clan for the Conclave as one last chance to do something different, something for herself, only to find herself forced into an even more rigid role, one she could not walk away from without allowing the world to be destroyed.

But it was almost over. One way or another, she would be done fighting this monster after that night.

“You end here, Corypheus!” she yelled, standing as tall as she could, adjusting the grip on her daggers as she carefully approached, noting out of the corner of her eyes James and Blackwall fanning out at her sides. The shuffle of stones and sing of steel in the cold air told her the others were readying themselves as well.

Corypheus’s face twisted into a smile, and red tendrils of magic began collecting around the orb as he spread them wide. Nassella shifted her weight to her toes, ready to dodge his attack. But the magic was not intended for her, and Nassella felt the ground beneath her feet move as Corypheus sent the light into the sky. “And so it shall,” he rumbled.

Nassella nearly fell down as the ground moved up with a sudden jerk, her body heavy as the entire Temple began to rise into the sky. Scrambling for balance, Nassella looked over her shoulder to see Sera and Morrigan fall off the edge as the ground crumbled underneath them, the force of the separation breaking even more of the stone, taking Varric and Cassandra as they scrambled to stay with the temple. Naomi and Dorian were luckier, managing to jump to solid ground, crawling side by side away from the edge as the Temple soared higher.

“No!” Nassella cried, instinctually stepping toward the edge, as if she could catch her companions and pull them back to her side. She desperately hoped they had not fallen far, that the temple had not risen so fast that they had been in danger of injury.

Nassella turned back to Corypheus, stomach turning as she realized he was lifting them nearly into the Breach’s storm, winds pulling strands of hair from her ties, loose scraps of fabric whipping against her body. She swallowed and readied herself to fight, pushing away the part of her mind that told her returning to the ground from this height would likely be fatal.

“You have been most successful in foiling my plans,” Corypheus sneered, red sparks of magic still dancing through his fingers and over the orb’s surface. “But let us not forget what you are,” he continued, and Nassella finally found her footing as the Temple stopped its ascent. Glancing to the sides revealed nothing but swirling clouds and the green light of the Breach, those mysterious buildings of the Fade hanging from the sky and mingling with the remaining ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. “A thief, in the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A gnat. We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood.”

Nassella glared at the magister, anger coursing through her entire body. Yes, it had been an accident when she obtained the Anchor, but it didn’t make her a thief. She might not remember all the details, but she had come to the aid of Divine Justinia, stopped him from entering the Fade and obtaining power that could destroy the world. It had been an accident, but it did not make it wrong, it did not make her a mistake. She was so much more than what he claimed. She was the gnat who would destroy him.

She would not let Corypheus walk away alive to continue his campaign of destruction across her world. None of them would.

“Neither of us is a god!” she screamed at him, raising her blades so her companions knew she was intending to attack. “Least of all you!”

Corypheus’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, and he raised his arms as well. “You dare…”

Nassella was ready to charge, attack and fight and kill… when she saw movement above the magister’s head. She stopped and felt her entire body scream at her to run. A blighted head filled with teeth and lyrium fire snaked its way over the wall above Corypheus, followed by obsidian talons and leathered wings. Nassella took a step back as the dragon parted its massive jaw, knowing they needed to run, to find a safer way to confront the dragon and Corypheus both. She had no idea if Morrigan would arrive in time, if the mage had even survived that fall…

A cry drifted over the sound of the swirling wind, and Nassella felt that fear swing toward hope. She glanced away from the beast in front of her to find another winging through the sky, a streak of black and violet plummeting directly toward them…

Nassella and the others ran for shelter behind boulders as Morrigan crashed into the courtyard, snarls and ear-splitting roars rising over the wind. Nassella watched with rising concern as the two dragons rolled across the ground, stomach falling when the lyrium dragon dug its claws into Morrigan’s sides, hope welling in her chest when Morrigan’s teeth found the other’s neck…

And then they were gone, over the edge in a tangle of wings and tails. Nassella was frozen, afraid that Morrigan had now actually fallen to her death…

The dragons screamed, and to her relief Nassella saw Morrigan wheeling her way around the floating islands of earth circling the Temple, pursuing the lyrium dragon on quick wings…

And then Corypheus roared.

 

* * *

 

Naomi flinched when Corypheus cried out in anger, the sound of his voice ringing in her ears for several seconds after he had fallen silent. Her entire body was still roiling from the journey into the sky, buzzing from the proximity of the Fade, and she wasn’t paying attention when Corypheus began throwing bursts of red lyrium flames with the orb gripped in his hands. Dorian pulled her behind a rock before the beam could hit them, his grip tight around her arm.

“You must stay focused Naomi,” he told her. “I’m afraid I won’t have the time to babysit.” He was trying to stay light, make a joke, but Naomi could see the strain in his expression, hear the concern in his voice. This was the battle for their lives, and she could not be a burden on the others.

So she nodded and tried her hardest to keep the fear from her face, and to ignore the discomfort of the magic crackling in the air. “I know,” she said, reaching for the arrows in her quiver. “I’ll be fine.” Her hands were shaking, and she wasn’t sure how much use she would be. They were in the sky and she was _terrified._ She didn’t want to think about what would happen when the Temple returned to the ground, but she knew it would be bad. But she was the only archer left. She _had_ to pull herself together and provide the support she was supposed to.

She reached to press her hand against the coin nestled against her chest. She had to be brave, she had to fight. For Cullen, for James, for Nassella, for herself…

Dorian had left her behind the boulder, joining the battle beyond. Naomi could hear the sounds of fighting, snapping lightning and shifted stones, shouts and taunts as the more experienced warriors coordinated their attacks. She didn’t know how much help her arrows would be against Corypheus. She might be the most use just waiting for the mages to need a mana boost.

“Demons!” she heard Bull roar from beyond the boulder. “Get the bastards!”

Demons. _That_ was something she could help with.

Naomi peaked from her hiding place and found the courtyard in chaos. Corypheus was still positioned before the fallen head of Andraste, beams of red lyrium and flame shooting from his hands toward her friends scattered before him. She caught a glimpse of James charging toward the magister with his sword raised, mouth opened in a snarl. Her breath caught in her throat as the beam swung violently in his direction, hardly relaxing when he quickly ducked below the fiery attack.

He was still charging when the more immediate danger of the shades drew Naomi’s attention. She focused on the closest demon as it bore down on Vivienne, fumbling slightly with an arrow. In the next instant the shade was stunned, struck by a burst of light extending from the woman’s twirling staff. Naomi took a couple deep breaths, nocked her arrow in place, and fired. Another arrow quickly followed the first, points buried in the demon’s head. It crumpled to the ground and Vivienne focused her attention, and magic, on the larger battle, casting barriers around those closest to Corypheus and in most danger of being struck.

Naomi found her next target and fired the moment Dorian had distanced himself from its claws, missing her first shot because she overcorrected in her fear of hitting the mage. Her second shot struck true, piercing the demon through its open mouth, causing it to stutter and fall toward the ground. A crushing blow from Bull destroyed it for good.

The ground rumbled and Naomi’s skin crawled. An aching, dissonant song assaulted her ears and the ground exploded, giant crystals of red lyrium spreading across the battlefield, throwing nearly everyone within fifty meters of Corypheus to the ground. Naomi was out of range of the main assault, but staggered back nonetheless, ears splitting as the haunting melody increased in volume.

“Feel my wrath, little wench!” Corypheus growled, voice joining the song like grating lyrics. Naomi thought she might be sick. The sound was too loud, too distracting, and the thought of getting closer to the lyrium made her balk. The others were still struggling to their feet, and Naomi feared Corypheus would strike them again while they were incapacitated.

But he left instead, flying into the sky and over the broken walls. Naomi let out a long breath, her heart racing. They were so far from finished. It had only been a few minutes, and she wondered if they had made any progress against him, if the magister had been injured at all.

The others were gathering where Corypheus had disappeared, and Naomi forced herself to move through the scattered outcroppings of red lyrium to join them. She realized when she reached the others just how much that brief skirmish had taken out of them. Everyone was sheened with sweat, their armor singed or dented, more than one face raked with scratches. The mages were downing lyrium potions, and Vivienne and Solas dispensed bursts of healing and restorative magic.

“Did anyone get a blade on him?” Blackwall asked gruffly, unstopping a red potion to boost his energy.

“I did, once,” James responded, looking unsurprisingly fresh compared to the others, his eyes glowing green in the presence of the Fade. “Then he threw me across the field.”

“Cole and I got in a few strikes when he was distracted by Bull,” Nassella said, brows scrunched violently together. She shook her head and started walking toward the stairs that would lead them after Corypheus. “We need to find him, before he can recover.”

Naomi followed the others up the stairs and deeper into the temple, trying to stay calm. But it was difficult. Their path brought them close to the temple’s edge, and Naomi made the mistake of looking over the edge, seeing the dragons still wheeling through the sky, _below_ them.

They were hundreds of feet in the air, and Naomi grew more certain that this would not end well, no matter what…

 _No, do think like this,_ she told herself, tearing her eyes away and funning up the stairs. _We’ll be fine. Just focus on fighting…_

They found Corypheus, or rather, he found them, swinging down from the sky with beams of red lyrium and flame. Everyone scattered and ducked behind boulders, waiting for Corypheus to exhaust himself before venturing into the open.

The next assault was nearly like the first, except Corypheus stayed perched on a broken landing, well above the reach of swords or knives. Naomi watched from well back as the mages distracted Corypheus with bursts of flame and waves of ice, the air filled with the cracking of thunder as Dorian called lightning from the sky…

Corypheus absorbed their attacks with barely a flinch, flicking half of them away with waves of his hand. Naomi watched as the others dodged the magister’s returning attacks, unable to strike back, or avoid being thrown across the ground when red lyrium erupted suddenly beneath their feet. Solas, Vivienne, and Dorian grew more desperate, doing everything they could to bring the magister down…

Naomi felt useless until the demons arrived. Once they came shrieking onto the field everyone’s attention was drawn from Corypheus to the more immediate threat. Naomi gripped her bow and got to work, picking off the demons when she could get clear shots, praying with each arrow released that she was helping. She saw Bull destroy a shade with a single blow, and James take on a terror demon, dodging sweeps of its clawed hands before stepping in to gut it with a swipe of his sword. The demon fell to the ground, but James’s back was turned to Corypheus, and he didn’t see when the magister turned toward him…

“James! Watch out!” Naomi yelled. But her voice didn’t carry above the sounds of battle, and she watched as the beam of light struck James square in the back. Her brother staggered forward and collapsed, Corypheus’s laugh grating at her ears.

Naomi tried to run forward, but her way was blocked when more red lyrium broke through the ground at her feet. She staggered back and fell to the ground, entire body buzzing and ears ringing with the aching melody of the crimson crystals.

She scrambled to her feet and around the red lyrium, gritting her teeth against the tune assaulting her ears. She searched for James, relieved to find him now crouched behind a boulder. She ran across the field to join him, keeping her head low while she assessed him for any permanent damage.

“Are you all right?” she asked him breathlessly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he snapped. He rolled his shoulders and glanced from behind their hiding spot, wincing as Blackwall took a beam to his shield and flew across the field. “Dammit! We can’t get to him up there!”

Naomi peaked over the boulder and watched as Corypheus easily swiped away a burst of ice. He was struck in the next instant by lightning, but she couldn’t tell that he had been affected at all. “Magic is hardly doing anything…”

“Hit him with arrows,” James said. “I got him with my sword earlier, you arrows might work.”

Naomi twisted her bow in her hand and swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “He’s a long way off…”

“Fuck Naomi, you need to try!” James shouted, turning to glare at her, his eyes blazing. “We can’t reach him!”

Naomi found herself nodding. “I know, I know!” she said back, looking back up at Corypheus assaulting her friends below. She reached for an arrow and took several deep breaths to settle her body. “I’ll try.”

James grunted then rose to his feet and started running, shouting at a demon that was bearing down on Vivienne to draw its attention. Naomi took one more moment to settle her nerves, then rose to her own feet and set her eyes on Corypheus. She tried to ignore the terror that filled her body looking at him, and focused on hitting her mark.

An exposed portion on his chest.

The shoulder that wasn’t crusted with lyrium.

His mangled neck.

He noticed when her arrow embedded itself in his neck. The magister roared and twisted toward Naomi, raising his glowing hands…

She ran, jumping over the fallen remains of demons and scattered stones, stomach twisting when she heard the explosion of rock and fire behind her. She skidded behind a half-fallen wall, heart thumping in her throat as she waited for the next attack.

It didn’t come. Instead she heard the sound of feet scratching over stones, and then Solas was behind the wall with her, crouching at her side.

“Do you need mana?” Naomi gasped, pulling off her glove and holding her hand toward Solas. The elf took the hand, and Naomi felt energy flowing a little more quickly through her body.

“Yes, but I came to make sure you are all right.”

Naomi nodded. “I’m fine… I just wish I could do more. My arrows do so little.”

“We are wearing him down, even if it does not appear so,” Solas said. Naomi wished she could appear so calm. “Help the others keep his attention here below. Nassella and Cole are climbing to reach him.”

Solas returned to the battle and Naomi followed, jogging closer when she knew Corypheus had turned his attention to Bull and Blackwall taunting him from below. She helped Dorian bring down a couple more demons, then worked up her courage to return to Corypheus.

She managed to loose one arrow before she saw Nassella sliding over the broken wall behind Corypheus. The elf fell on silent feet to the ground behind the magister, followed a second later by Cole, the now more human spirit’s face obscured by his hat. Naomi reached for another arrow, ready to use it in any way she could to distract the monster from those attempting to catch him by surprise.

Nassella struck first and Naomi held her breath, heart racing as Coyrpheus screamed, growing even louder when Cole joined the elf, jumping on the magister’s back and digging his daggers into every exposed bit of flesh he could reach…

Corypheus spun, a burst of magic exploding from his body. Nassella and Cole were thrown from the magister, Cole landing somewhere out of sight on the landing where Corypheus still stood, Nassella toppling over the edge and falling over a dozen feet to the ground below.

Nassella did not get back up, and Naomi couldn’t breathe. But Corypheus was still attacking, and she was forced to seek cover once more when he shot his beam at those still standing. Corypheus was laughing, and Naomi felt tears pricking at her eyes. There was nothing they could do against him, not if he wouldn’t come to a level where they could reach…

 _Knock him down!_ Naomi thought in a moment of clarity, cursing herself for taking so long to realize. If the mages magic couldn’t reach him, perhaps her way of manipulating the Fade could.

She found as much cover as she could and lined up her sight with the magister. She evened her breathing and allowed her eyes to start dropping closed, reaching for that part of her mind that was always drawn toward the Fade, even more obvious now as the Fade drew so close…

Something exploded and drew Naomi back. She saw Blackwall lying on the ground and knew she had to work faster. Corypheus would pick them all off one by one if he couldn’t be brought down…

She focused harder and returned to that place between waking and the Fade, feeling out the mana stored in the ring on her hand, collecting it in front of her increasingly numb body, pushing it away from her, across the battlefield and over the ragged figures of her friends, twirling around and collecting behind the magister like an eddy in a pool. Tentatively Naomi pressed the thickening barrier against Corypheus’s back. He stumbled forward and turned, striking out toward an enemy that wasn’t there.

“You dare to touch an avatar of divinity?” he growled.

Before Naomi could lose her hold on the mana she pushed it forward, forcing it into the magister’s body with every ounce of will and focus she could muster through her fear and doubt, excitement coursing through her body when Corypheus _flew_ forward, tumbling to the ground with a shout of rage…

Those still standing were on him immediately, James and Bull alternating blows into the magister’s body while he struggled upright, red lyrium and what looked like blood flying from their blades…

And then the entire area around Corypheus exploded in a burst of light and flying red lyrium. Naomi was thrown off her feet, the wind driven from her lungs when she slammed into the ground. Pain erupted in her side, and as she slowly rose back to her feet she felt the telltale ache of cracked ribs.

Corypheus was gone when Naomi finally regained her senses enough to analyze her surroundings. Red lyrium was everywhere, and she carefully weaved her way through the singing crystals in search of the others. Bull appeared first, an angry wound crossing his chest, spilling blood down his body. But he didn’t seem to notice, and gestured Naomi over when he saw her picking her way through the mess.

She found Vivienne kneeling over Nassella, pumping the elf full of healing magic until she moaned and blinked open her eyes, the cuts and bruises already developing on her face disappearing as they healed. Vivienne wiped her brow when Naomi approached, and extended her hand. “Naomi, if you would give me some mana, that would be most helpful.”

Naomi extended her hand. “Of course Vivienne, anything you need.”

Vivienne’s brow visibly relaxed as her mana was restored, and she returned to Nassella, encouraging the elf to sit up. Nassella rubbed at her head and focused on Vivienne’s eyes. “What happened?” she whispered.

“Naomi knocked Corypheus off that platform after you fell, then he blew up the entire area when James and I started slicing him up. He ran off again," Bull offered.

“Is everyone all right?” Nassella asked, rising to her feet.

“We will see,” Vivienne said. “Naomi stay close my dear, I’m afraid I will need your assistance again.”

Naomi followed the mage, distributing mana to Dorian and Solas when they found them. The mages had burned through all of the lyrium potions they had brought, and restorative potions were running low. Naomi hoped the mana left in the ring would be enough to see them through the rest of the battle.

They found James with his arm twisted and healed out of place. Naomi felt bile rise in the back of her throat at the sight and turned away, though she was unable to block out the snap of bone as Bull helped her brother put the limb back in place. Bull offered a potion to James when he was done, but James shook his head as he stretched out the healing limb. “I don’t need it,” he insisted. “Save it for yourself.”

Wings screamed overhead and everyone instinctively ducked as the dragons soared above them. Morrigan was trailing the lyrium dragon, the latter beast clearly struggling to fly, wounds leaking blood on the temple below. It raised Naomi’s spirits. They were getting closer. Once Morrigan managed to kill the dragon, Corypheus would have nowhere to go when he too was killed…

“We need to go!” James exclaimed when the beasts were past. He bent down and picked up his sword, pointing deeper into the temple. Naomi turned to see Corypheus distantly silhouetted against the roiling sky, sparks of magic curling around his body. “We almost had him! We need to attack again before he can heal!”

“Go,” Vivienne urged, reaching for Naomi’s hand and one last burst of mana. “I will revive Blackwall and Cole and then find you. You must press this advantage.”

Nassella nodded and downed a restorative potion, eyes bright and determined as she jogged deeper into the temple. “We can finish this!” she cried.

Bull slapped Naomi on the shoulder as they fell into line behind the elf. “Make sure you keep the bastard down on our level,” he told her. “We’ll get him this time around.”

Naomi nodded, heart soaring a little as she followed the others, already formulating what her next moves could be. Even if Corypheus was within striking distance of blades, she knew she could use her abilities to keep his beam from hurting the others, shielding them from the heat and flame, or redirecting the magic back toward Corypheus himself…

They were crossing one of the countless courtyards when the sky fell on them. Or rather, the dragons fell from the sky, roaring and twisting and spewing flames. For one, brief moment Naomi watched them fall, realizing as they grew closer and closer that they were not slowing down, or pulling back to avoid the ground…

Someone was shouting and Naomi moved, scrambling over rocks and away from where she had been standing directly below the falling, tumbling dragons…

The ground shook violently from the impact, and Naomi tripped, sprawling out on the ground and rolling several feet, hitting her elbows and head and knees as she did. She groaned, realizing she hadn’t asked anyone to heal her ribs.

The ground lurched again, and when Naomi looked up her breath caught, her heart pounding faster and panic rising in her chest…

The dragons had shattered the courtyard in the impact, giant cracks spreading from beneath the body of the lyrium dragon where it was struggling to stand. Naomi saw that Morrigan had returned to her human form and was lying motionless a few meters from the dragon. Nassella was there too, and Solas, all clearly unconscious…

And Naomi was drifting away from them. She struggled to her feet, realizing with increasing horror that she was stranded on a piece of the courtyard that had splintered off from the impact, and was now floating lazily away from the main temple. Naomi frantically looked around for the others, and saw that Bull and Dorian were on their own large piece that was drifting away…

Dark laughter fell into Naomi’s ears. Corypheus was laughing at them, wherever he was, clearly thinking they had failed. Naomi shivered, realizing they may have.

The dragon was clearly injured, one of its wings dragging on the ground, limping, large wounds all over its body steadily leaking blood. It would probably die on its own, given enough time.

But Naomi knew they didn’t have that time, and she watched as the dragon turned its maw toward Nassella. The elf had not moved, yet the dragon seemed drawn to her, limping closer and closer…

“No!” Naomi yelled, wishing she could fly or jump to help. “Ness get up!”

Nassella didn’t move, and the dragon was snaking its head above her body…

Naomi reached for the Fade and threw mana toward the elf, pushing the energy over the void between them until it collected in the space above her body, swirling and strengthening what remained of the Veil into the semblance of a shield. The dragon bumped its nose against the barrier and Naomi winced, feeling the give of the energy at the intrusion. She increased her focus and the flow of energy, her body buzzing as the ring and amulet pulsed with the magic flowing through her. She wished she had spent more time practicing with Dorian, perfecting this new technique…

The dragon snarled and slammed into the barrier, teeth dripping with blood and saliva. Naomi clenched her fists and tried to keep breathing, pouring everything she had into keeping that shield in place, praying for Nassella to get up.

 _Please Ness,_ she begged, body shuddering when the dragon attacked again, biting and scratching at the air between its teeth and the elf. _Get up Ness. Please God, let her get up…_

The dragon was frantic, roaring and scrambling against her barrier. Naomi started to cry, her entire body shaking with the effort of maintaining her focus. She was drifting further away, and she didn’t know how far her influence could reach. But she couldn’t do anything else. All she could do was push every bit of mana stored in that ring between the dragon and her friend, praying that it would be enough.

The dragon slammed into the barrier and Naomi saw spots. She fell to her knees with a gasp, holding onto the flow of mana with her will. Her vision didn’t clear, but she pushed the energy by habit, following that same path, forcing the mana forward…

And then it was gone, the thrum of energy in the ring disappearing and leaving Naomi’s hand numb. “No!” she sobbed, closing her eyes and forcing what mana was left in her body out and toward her friend. _Please…_

The dragon screamed and Naomi’s body shuddered, followed in the next instant by a deep bone-permeating ache.

And then nothing.

 

* * *

 

James wasn’t healing, not as fast as he should be.

He groaned and tried to roll over, the arm Bull had reset aching slightly, along with his side, and an ankle, and his neck…

He probably should have taken that potion Bull offered him, but he hadn’t anticipated a dragon would fall on him. He healed, the others didn’t. They might need those potions more than him.

But he relied on the energy in his own body, and the adrenaline of the fight had apparently masked just how exhausted he was getting. He’d taken too many hits, James realized as he struggled to his knees. And Morrigan’s body slamming into his as she fell had done him no favors. He’d at least managed to push Nassella out of the way before they had come down, and the only reason he wasn’t still crushed beneath the mage was because she had apparently morphed from her dragon form. She was lying, motionless, a few feet away.

The other dragon was still alive, and James could hear it roaring, still muffled as his head cleared from the impact of the fall. He blinked, vision clearing, and saw several yards away the lyrium dragon, body broken and bleeding, snarling and assaulting the ground. James forced himself to his feet, heart pounding, a new flush of adrenaline clearing the last haze from his body.

The dragon was trying to get at something on the floor, and a glance made it obvious what it was.

_Nassella._

The blue shimmer of one of Naomi’s shields was keeping the dragon back. Somewhere his sister was trying to keep Nassella safe, but James knew it might not last. He reached for his sword, and swore when it was not in his sheath. Frantically he searched the ground, and when he found it started to run.

He skidded to a halt as he grabbed the weapon, then scrambled back to his feet and sprinted toward the dragon as it continued to slam into the barrier keeping it away from Nassella, who he could see had started to stir. But every assault brought the jaws of that monster closer to the woman below it, and James screamed, desperate to draw the dragon’s attention to him instead of her…

“Over here you fucking bastard! Leave her alone!”

But it would not relent, didn’t even notice James approaching with his weapon raised. He saw the barrier glowing less and less with each step he took, and then it flickered…

James reached the dragon and slammed his sword into its neck, slicing through hide and muscle, warm blood spurting over his face. The dragon screamed and he tugged the weapon free, ducking beneath the dragon’s body, slicing and stabbing, destroying every piece of the monster that he could before it destroyed everything that mattered, every chance they had to finally have peace.

The dragon tried to roar but gurgled instead, and James knew it was dying as blood poured from the wounds to the stones below…

And then it moved, and before James could respond he felt hot, sulphuric air on his skin, his vision spinning as he fell to his side, feet and body lifted from the ground.

And pain. Unbelievable, searing pain tearing through his body.

But worse were the sounds. Tearing metal, ripping flesh, breaking bone…

His vision spun with greens and grays and blacks, and James realized he was in the dragon’s jaws, thrashing through the air as it died. Everything felt slow. Clear.

He was going to die.

The dragon jerked and James flew, released from the creatures mouth and allowed to fall to the ground. The impact drove what air remained in his lungs from his body, and when he tried to pull in another breath, he felt pain, and something bubbling deep inside…

Blood was pouring from his body, warming the skin beneath his armor. James stared at the Breach and took another shallow breath, no longer hurting, just numb…

He’d healed a little, he realized as he watched the clouds swirling above him. The blood was seeping now, not flowing. But it wasn’t stopping.

 _I’ll just die slower now_ , he thought. Moisture fell out of his eyes, but he didn’t have the energy to raise a hand to wipe it away.

He didn’t have the energy to do anything.

_At least the dragon’s dead._

He’d at least done that. The others could find Corypheus now, finish what they had started. He and Bull and done a lot of damage. The magister wouldn’t last…

His vision was getting hazier. He’d be unconscious soon.

_Good. I don’t want to drag this out…_

He closed his eyes. He didn’t know why he wasn’t panicking. He didn’t want to die…

 _I forgot to tell Naomi I love her,_ he realized. He almost opened his eyes at that. Almost. _I never told Ness…_

One more thing to regret.

It wouldn’t matter soon.

He vaguely felt something pressing on his face. But he couldn’t trust his senses anymore.

It was starting to get cold.

_James._

It was a voice, muffled and distant. But James opened his eyes and saw the green, saw her eyes.

He tried to shake his head, but it was too hard. He tried again. He didn’t want her to see.

 

* * *

 

“James,” Nassella cried, stroking his face, peering into his eyes, no longer glowing quite so green. He didn’t respond, didn’t see, and Nassella sobbed. She could feel his pulse still pressing against her hand, but it was faint, so, so faint.

There was so much blood. She couldn’t look down without feeling like her chest was tearing apart. Some was the dragon’s, but that just worked to mask how much he had lost himself…

She’d woken from her daze in time to see him kill the dragon, tear into its neck with all of the considerable strength he possessed, spilling its blood and ending the creature. She’d had hope, for one, slim second, that they could do it. That they could finally bring Corypheus down.

And then the dragon had turned its teeth on him, and with its dying throes, destroyed her.

James’s armor was punctured and twisted, blood seeping over the dark metal. One of his legs was set at an odd angle. But resetting the limb would not help, because he was no longer healing.

“James, please,” she begged, stroking his face, wiping the blood away. “Say something.”

There was nothing, just the slight shifting of his head as he tried to pull away.

Nassella turned to her belt and fumbled with her pouches, fingers trembling as she sought out a healing potion. But her fingers found nothing but wet leather and shards of glass, the vials smashed somewhere in the many falls she had taken…

She looked up and searched for someone, _anyone,_ to help her. But there was no one. Everyone was either unconscious, or worse…

How many others had she lost when those dragons fell from the sky? How many others had she failed…?

Nassella couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel. She looked down at James, realizing how pale he was below that blood, knowing that he was dying.

How many times had she seen him injured? She had taken for granted that he healed. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this…

She leaned down and pressed her forehead against his, and started to sob. “Don’t leave me James,” she begged, clutching at his neck. He closed his eyes and she felt her heart breaking. “I need you. I can’t do this alone…”

She knew it was useless. She wasn’t a mage. She couldn’t do anything to help him.

She could look for help. But she didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave and return to find him gone…

And then she heard him. Corpyheus, laughing. His voice, smooth and dark in her ear, whispering as if he was next to her, watching as the man she loved died…

“You’ve failed. You are nothing. You thought to defeat a god, and now you’ve lost everything. I will crush you like the gnat you are…”

_No._

_No, no, no!_

She hadn’t failed yet. Not everyone. Corypheus could not win. She wouldn’t let him. She couldn’t let this monster get away with everything he had done, with every life he had torn apart.

She wouldn’t let him take _her_ life, her family, her friends, _James_ , without dying himself.

She opened her eyes and sat up, still shaking, still wracked with pain at the sight of James’s broken body.

He wasn’t dead yet. She could feel his heart still beating beneath her palm. There was still a chance. This didn’t have to be the end.

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead, letting out a few more sobs before pulling her grief back enough to talk.

“I love you,” she whispered, wishing she had told him sooner, when he could hear. “And I’ll come back. Please James… hold on…”

She tore herself away before she lost her composure again, knowing her plea was likely useless. She stumbled away and wiped the blood from her hands so she could grip her blades, taking deep breaths to quell her tears. She looked around once more, but no one had appeared to help. Whatever had happened, she was now alone.

She didn’t know how she was going to kill Corypheus by herself. She no longer had gods to pray to, so instead Nassella thought of her friends as she jogged ahead, trusting that they had weakened the magister enough to give her a chance.


	113. Corypheus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entirely unrelated to this chapter, I would like to plug a one-shot I wrote with my friend LadyDracyrus, expanding on the night her OC Abner and James spent together while in the Arbor Wilds. It's called [Strangers in Arms](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10536120), and is basically smut. Also, you should check out her fic, [In Love, Serenity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8841850/chapters/20275030)!

James wondered how long it would take.

Nassella was gone. He knew that much. Her shadow had disappeared, and now all he could see was the faint, swirling green of the Breach overhead. He couldn’t focus on any details, but he watched the vague shape of the storm anyway.

He was dying, but he didn’t want to go easily. He would stay awake as long as he could.

He was growing cold, and he could feel nothing below his neck. Still, as long as he could see the Breach, he wasn’t yet gone.

_What are you going to do? Have you looked for jobs?_

_I’ll figure it out…_

_You can’t just move without a plan. You need to find a job, a place to live…_

James didn’t know why he was remembering the last conversation he’d had with his mother while he was dying. He’d had plans, to finally move away from his parents, start his life with Makenzie. He’d been so excited to see them come to life, until he’d mentioned them to his mother…

_I know that! Just drop it, I can take care of myself._

_I’ll believe that when I see it._

She’d never had the chance, and it made James sad. But he _had_ taken care of himself, and so many others. He could be proud of that.

He was almost icy, but had no energy to shiver. He knew the end was getting closer, but he wasn’t afraid. The only thing that brought him any pain was the thought of Nassella falling, of not seeing this entirely through and being at her side to help at the end.

But he’d done what he could, and she had the others. They would be successful.

He wouldn’t see it though. He was barely breathing, and the Breach was so faint, so far away…

He wondered what it would be like.

He’d always believed he would go to heaven. His parents would be there, and his grandparents, his siblings…

But that belief had been shaken, and he no longer knew. If he was honest, he really didn’t think there would be anything once he was gone.

Naomi would be devastated, and he wished he wasn’t going to cause her pain. But she wouldn’t be alone. James knew she would be fine.

There was no distant light beckoning him away. Instead, his vision grew dark, and James decided it was the end. But then his body felt warmer, and some of the pain returned. He blinked, his vision clearing slightly.

Someone was there, trying to heal him.

“Stop,” James said, the sound no more than a whispered croak. They should be out there, helping Nassella.

A voice murmured something, but James could understand no words through his haze.

“You need… to help… Ness,” he slurred. It was still so hard to breathe…

“I am.”

The voice was closer, now over his head. James felt hands on his cheeks, and another small burst of magic. But there were too many injuries for a single mage, and James knew it would be no use.

His body was numb once more.

But his vision cleared enough to see a pale smudge hovering above his eyes. James knew he should recognize the face, but no name came to mind. Still, it was comforting in a way… James didn’t want to die alone.

But then James felt himself being pushed, nudged away from his body. He tried to fight it, to keep himself grounded, but he was so weak. _No,_ he tried to say, but he could not make a sound. _No…_

He was losing control over his body, and James felt helpless. He was dying and there was nothing he could do…

He felt another surge of magic, and then his mind was forced from his body, into the demon-infested Fade.

 

* * *

 

Nassella ran through the chaos of the temple, stumbling up slickened stairways and over rocky debris, her body pummeled by the wind gusting from the Breach. She shivered as she struggled ahead, feeling colder than she had the entire battle. She was alone, her friends fallen behind her, James was…

She shook her head and wiped at her eyes. She couldn’t think about that now. She was dangerously close to falling apart, but _everything_ would be lost if she could not reach Corypheus.

She focused on her frantic steps, increased her pace and gripped her daggers. Something was pulling her ahead, guiding her forward with insistent tugs on the mark buried in her hand. The magister was badly injured thanks to James and Bull, and now his dragon was dead. Nassella clung to that knowledge. It was the only thing that allowed her to believe she might have a chance.

But Corypheus was not giving up to so easily, and he taunted her as she ran.

_You are alone._

_You have failed._

_You cannot succeed._

_Everything you love is destroyed, and it is your doing._

_You are weak. He would still be alive if you had not fallen…_

“No!” Nassella screamed, stumbling into a wall. “You did this!” she cried into the storm around her. Corypheus chuckled in her ear and Nassella wanted to rip him out of her head. James was not dying because of her. “This isn’t my fault!” she sobbed. Corypheus had found the one thing that was going to break her, the one thing that could keep her down.

_You are nothing but a pretender, playing at being a hero,_ he whispered, voice a gentle caress. Nassella trembled, sobbing into her hands.

She couldn’t do it.

She had never been alone. There was always someone at her side. First Cassandra and Varric and Solas, and then Bull and Dorian and James…

She couldn’t do this alone.

_Let it end here,_ Corypheus purred, and Nassella felt the temple shake. _Let the skies boil. Let the world be rent asunder!_

Nassella forced herself to look up, and saw over the next wall red sparks flying into the Breach. She followed their burning trails, and felt terror soak into her bones at what she saw.

The Breach was expanding even faster, and soon it was all she could see.

She might not be able to do this alone. But she had to try.

She rose to her feet once more with strength she had no reason to still have, and forced herself to walk by will alone. She climbed the last set of stairs, and when she looked passed the wall, saw Corypheus at last.

His back was to her, his arms extended toward the heavens. The orb she had seen in Haven, the orb that had placed the mark on her hand, was hovering above his hands, sending those bolts of red energy into the Breach, spurring its ever increasing expansion.

It was the key, and Nassella needed to remove it from Corypheus’s grasp. Either by force or from his dead hands.

But as she crept closer, Nassella knew it was nearly hopeless. She was too small. No matter how injured, Corypheus towered over her. She had no hope of reaching his orb, or any part of his body that would end him.

And then her eyes landed on what sat behind the magister.

A pillar, broken and crumbling toward the ground, one of many surrounding what had once been a magnificent room.

Nassella knew what she had to do.

Silently she reached the base of the column, putting the stones between herself and Corypheus. After sheathing her daggers she began to climb, pulling herself into the air, above the reach of her prey, to a height where the advantage would be hers.

The wind buffeted her as she climbed, and when Nassella finally emerged on the top with aching limbs, she clung to the stones to keep herself from falling.

Coryphes was below, working his magic with frantic purpose, oblivious to what waited for him above. Nassella could see blood pooling beneath his body.

It wouldn’t take much. A well-placed dagger in his neck would end him for good.

Nassella pulled out her knives, her hands shaking. This was her most crucial hunt yet. Failing this assault meant more than her clan going meatless. Failing now would doom the world…

Normally she would pray to Mythal and Andruil before she struck, trace her vallaslin and ask for guidance and courage. But her vallaslin were gone and so were her gods, destroyed by Solas and his desire to tell her the truth…

So Nassella thought of her mother instead, the woman who had taught her to hunt, taught her this very technique, the technique that was her only hope...

Nassella jumped, her stomach twisting as she fell. She knew the moment her feet left the stones that she would hit her target, and it wasn’t until her feet slammed into Corypheus’s shoulders that the magister knew he was under attack.

Years of instinct kicked in, and it was that more than anything that guided Nassella’s knives to his throat. She slammed the blades into his corrupted flesh, tugging and twisting with all of her strength, screaming the entire time.

Corypheus cried out and spun, clawing at her body. Nassella clung to him with her legs, and sliced again, and again, and again…

The magister grabbed her leg and tugged, removing her from his body and throwing her aside. Nassella impacted the ground with a crack, searing pain shooting from her right wrist and through her side. She scrambled to her feet with a gasp, cradling the broken limb to her chest.

Corypheus was done. She could see it happening, and she thought she might collapse from relief. Blood flowed down his body from the wounds she had inflicted, and he struggled to lift the orb a fraction toward the sky.

“Not like this!” he called, voice raspy and pained. “I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages.” The orb started to sputter with some red sparks, but they were faint. “Dumat! Ancient Ones! I beseech you!” he pleaded, grasping as his life spilled to the stones below. Nassella raised her left hand, the mark there urging her toward the orb spinning lazily above Corypheus. It had been pulling her the entire night…

“If you exist – if you ever existed – aid me now!” Corypheus cried.

He was calling out to his gods, and Nassella could almost laugh. There were no gods worth calling out to, and they were certainly not answering Corypheus now.

She felt a connection snap into place between her hand and the orb, and before it could disappear Nassella tugged, willing the sphere into her own hand.

It was ripped from Corypheus’s hand and he fell to the stones. Nassella nearly fell backwards herself from the force of the orb as it settled above her own hand. Her entire body rattled with the sudden flux of magic coursing through her, and she desperately wanted to let it go.

But she clung to it, and watched as Corypheus began to slump toward the ground. Nassella looked at the monster, tears nearly obscuring her vision. He was giving up. After all this time, after everything he had taken from her, he was just giving up…

A gust of wind nearly toppled Nassella over, and the Breach screamed. She looked up and felt her heart sink. It was growing at an even more alarming rate, and as she looked into the void, she realized it needed to be closed. Now.

She lifted her hand, the orb floating a few inches beyond her fingers. Nassella focused all the energy contained in her mark through the device, green magic magnifying and bursting toward the sky. Nassella felt the connection between her mark and the giant rift lock into place, just as she had done with countless other rifts. But this one was so much larger, and she stared terrified into the Fade as she attempted to close it. She felt as if her feet were being lifted from the stones, her body weightless and vibrating with the music of the Fade as she was pulled into the maw. Nothing was keeping her from flying away but pure will.

Nassella closed her hand, agonizingly slowly, sharp pricks of pain shooting up her arm the entire time. The Breach resisted her the entire way, but finally her fingers clamped into a fist. Her body shuddered as the connection between her hand and the sky was broken. The sky overhead pulsed with a burst of light, then faded into darkness.

Nassella fell to her knees, finally releasing the orb. It dropped to the ground with a _thunk_.

_It’s over._

It was closed. She had done it. Without mages or Templars… just the mark on her hand and the will to see it finished.

Corypheus moaned, and Nassella looked back up. No. It wasn’t quite finished.

He was pitiful, fallen to the ground in a broken heap. He was as good as dead, but Nassella wanted more. She hated him, to the very core of her being. He had destroyed her, and she wanted him dead, gone, torn apart so that no one would ever know he had existed…

She rose to her feet, body spent and shaking, but forced herself to walk toward him. Any moment he would be dead from his wounds, but she wanted to rip out his heart, just as he had ripped out hers…

“You wanted into the Fade?” she growled. It was how this had all started, with his insane aspirations of becoming a god. He had torn the world apart for his goal…

She would send him into the Fade, just as she had sent so many demons before. She lifted her marked hand, still aching from closing the Breach, and opened a rift directly where his heart would be.

A hollow satisfaction grew in her chest as he screamed, as the glowing ball of green crystals started to rip him into shreds from the inside out. She took her time, gritting her teeth against the pain mounting in her hand, wanting him to feel every ounce of pain he had ever inflicted…

When he was nearly gone she forced her fist closed, letting out a cry as searing pain shot up her wrist and to her chest. But she saw the moment Corypheus disappeared, the pieces that remained pulled into the Fade with a flash of green.

Nassella collapsed, entirely empty. Everything ached, and any attempt to move her fingers was met with stinging pain.

But she didn’t care.

It was over. Truly over.

The temple was falling, but Nassella didn’t care. Chunks of temple and rock were falling from the Breach, returning to the earth as gravity was restored, but Nassella made no move to find cover.

She didn’t care.

She was done.

Done fighting, done trying to be a hero. She couldn’t bring herself to move, couldn’t bring herself to see what had become of those who had fallen along the way.

Couldn’t bring herself to see what had happened to James.

Even though she had promised she would return. She just couldn’t find the hope that he wasn’t gone.

The Temple slammed into the ground with a crash, and Nassella shuddered as her body was wracked with pain.

It was over. They were on the ground.

For another moment she didn’t move. She felt nothing, just a hollowness in her chest. The dull ache of broken bones was almost a welcome relief.

And then she heard footsteps, the sound of soft feet on stones. When they said nothing, Nassella sat up slowly, blinking open her eyes to see who had found her.

It was Solas, crouched over the orb a few feet away. Nassella saw it had been broken somewhere along the way, the sphere cracked neatly in half. Solas was handling the pieces carefully, his face fallen into a deep frown.

It was comforting to see him, amidst the pain and destruction around her.

“Solas?” she whispered, rising to her knees. She held her arms against her stomach, finding them essentially useless.

He did not look up. “The orb,” he murmured sorrowfully, turning the pieces in his hand.

She frowned. She knew he had wanted to recover the artifact, but she didn’t see how it mattered that it had been broken instead. “Corypheus is dead,” she said, voice hollow. “That’s what’s important.”

But Solas shook his head. “Yet so much has been lost.”

Anger tore through Nassella. People she loved were out there dying, and Solas was mourning a broken stone.

People she loved were dying, and _she_ was giving up.

“Who cares about the orb?!” she cried, struggling to her feet. “We need to find everyone! We need to find James! They’re dying Solas!”

Solas put down the orb gently then rose to his feet. He looked at her, a deep sadness filling his gaze. “It was not supposed to happen this way.”

Nassella was furious. “Of course it fucking wasn’t!” she yelled, wishing she could… slap him. James was dying… “None of this was supposed to happen! I wasn’t… I wasn’t supposed to lose him!” Her voice broke and she started to leave, but Solas did not.

He made no move to follow her, and Nassella wanted to scream. “No matter what comes,” he murmured, looking into her eyes with what she recognized as despair. “I want you to know that what we had was real.”

She wanted to cry. None of this was important. She turned and started to jog, leaving Solas behind with his broken orb, fumbling her way back to where the dragon had been slain, and where James had fallen.

She had promised James she would come back.

But when she finally found the dragon, she stopped. Her chest squeezed tightly around her heart, and the thought of getting any closer just made her ache even more. She shivered in the cold night air, her hair whipping more gently against her face now that the Breach was gone, terrified of what she would find.

Then she saw movement, a shadow in the darkness, and felt a spark of hope. She moved her feet, breaking into a run when she reached the flatter ground of the courtyard.

But she stopped when she rounded the dragon’s carcass. It was not James she had seen, but Bull and Dorian, the Qunari and the mage kneeling over the man she loved.

He had not moved, and as Nassella walked closer, she felt in the deepest pit of her stomach that he was gone.

She ignored the relieved greetings of Bull and Dorian, and fell to her knees at James’s side. She reached for him with her left hand, the mark glowing lazily. It cast a garish green light against his skin, highlighting just how motionless he was, how still his expression.

She brushed her fingers along his cheek and felt tears start to fall out of her eyes. His skin was too cold, and he made no response to her touch.

She felt like she was falling.

“I did what I could,” Dorian murmured. “But my reserves are gone…”

Nassella found herself nodding. She’d known this was going to happen.

She closed her eyes.

She felt like she was dying.

_I’m too late…_

Feet scrambled over stones, and shouts drifted from across the Temple. Nassella opened her eyes, and felt her heart break even further at what she saw.

Naomi was running toward them, and Nassella could see she was already crying. The woman dropped to James’s side and took his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks while she sobbed. “James!” she cried, and Nassella knew she had never heard a more sorrowful sound. “Wake up,” Naomi begged, caressing him desperately, her hands visibly shaking. “Please… please wake up…” She fell forward, pressing her face into his neck. “Please, James.”

 

* * *

 

“Please wake up. Wake up, James. Please don’t be gone…”

Naomi clutched her brother closer, pleading for him to come back. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. He wasn’t supposed to be gone…

She’d woken when the Temple had hit the ground, jostled from whatever unconscious state she had fallen into after using all the energy contained in her body. She had looked at the sky, exhausted and aching, and found the Breach gone, nothing but a lazy curtain of soft, glowing light in its place.

It was over. The Breach was closed, and she had known in her heart that Corypheus was dead. That the others had succeeded…

It was supposed to be over.

And James wasn’t supposed to be dead.

Naomi felt herself falling into a panic. It had happened enough times before. She knew the signs: the way her hands started to shake, followed by the rest of her body, shortened breaths, narrowed vision… She couldn’t think beyond the rotating string of _no, he’s not gone, he can’t be… but he’s not moving, he’s so injured… he’s gone… No! He can’t be…_

This couldn’t be the end.

She couldn’t accept that.

Naomi sat up and scrambled for his armor, blinking through her tears as she desperately pulled the plates from his body. The metal was punctured, shredded and twisted. He must have been in the mouth of the dragon…

She found calmer hands joining hers, and finally his chest was clear. Naomi crossed her hands over her brother’s heart.

And started to pump.

She pressed into his chest with all the strength that remained in her body, staring at her hands, trying not to think about the blood that covered them after touching her brother. She just pressed.

And pressed again.

And again and again and again…

Tears fell onto her hands freely, but the repetitive motion kept her from falling apart. As long as she was pressing into his chest, forcing blood to flow through his body, she was doing something…

And he had a chance.

After what felt like too long, but still not long enough, Naomi stopped her compressions and brought a shaking hand to his neck, feeling for a pulse.

There was nothing.

Her own heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst from her chest. Naomi started to shake her head, her panic returning…

And then she felt it.

The smallest beat, the slightest nudge of his vein against her finger, the barest hint that his heart had not stopped…

Naomi let out a cry, her throat raw from her sobbing and pleading. She looked up from James’s body, desperately seeking a mage.

Most of the others had found their way to the courtyard, though they kept a respectful distance. They were watching her, somber and hopeless, pitying her…

Naomi found Vivienne first. “Heal him!” she cried, begging the woman to do something. Vivienne lowered her gaze.

“Naomi…,” Dorian murmured softly from her side, his hand gently resting on her arm, telling her to stop.

Naomi shoved it away, and turned to him instead. “His heart is beating!” she insisted, desperate. “Heal him!”

“My dear, with these injuries…”

“Try!” Naomi demanded again, turning her eyes back to Vivienne, who had walked to James’s side.

Vivienne extended her hand. “I will need more mana.”

Naomi’s chest clenched. “It’s… gone,” she whispered. James was going to die because her ring was empty…

Vivienne dropped her hand, and shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry my dear... without mana there is little I can do. The spirit that aids me has fled.”

Naomi shook her head. “No!” Her fingers here still on her brother’s neck, and she felt another beat. “He’s not dead,” she gasped. “He’s not dead!”

“Try Vivienne,” Nassella ordered. Naomi looked to the elf, seeing her friend’s dirty face traced with trails from tears. “Everything you have left, try.” Her green eyes were staring at James, wide and distant. “Heal him.”

Vivienne sighed, but nodded, and extended her hands, James’s body glowing faintly blue. Dorian added his own small burst, but the healing wash was soon over.

Naomi felt his pulse grow a little stronger.

Grasping at the hope that faint beat gave her, Naomi looked around. “Where’s Solas?”

“I don’t know,” Nassella said. Her voice was empty.

It wasn’t enough. Without Solas…

How long could he hold one before he dropped off again?

“How is he?” Nassella asked. She brought her hand gently to his neck, and Naomi watched as her mouth dropped slightly open in relief, more tears fall out of her eyes.

“His pulse is steady,” Naomi said. But the full panic that had been tempered by the realization that he was not dead threatened to tear her apart. “For now at least…”

But James’s heart could stop again. And the mage’s might not work fast enough…

And he showed no signs of waking…

“Naomi, my dear,” Vivienne said gently. “I cannot sense him…”

Naomi shook her head. Vivienne was wrong. He wasn’t dead…

“You must accept that he is gone.”

“No!” Naomi screamed, clenching her fists. She wasn’t going to let him go. Not like this…

James wasn’t dead. His body had not been entirely broken. He could come back…

She would find him. Just as she had found David. She would find James, and this time, she would bring him back. She wouldn’t lose this brother too. She wouldn’t let him die, not after everything he had done.

Naomi fell to her back, lying down next to James. She took a deep breath, and clenched her hands over her stomach.

She would find him.

“Keep healing him,” she told the mages, closing her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Nassella asked, her voice still so strangely empty.

“I’m finding him,” Naomi said, then pulled herself into the Fade.

 

\-----

 

Everything in the Fade was chaos. The twisting pillars and landforms around Naomi slowly morphed, reverberating still from the suddenness of the Breach’s collapse. Naomi could hear the scream of spirits and demons beyond the swirling mist, and she armed herself with a thought, wary of the monsters she might find in the turmoil.

She didn’t know where to start. James could be anywhere, and she didn’t want to waste the time it would take to meander to his location.

She needed to find him, before he went… beyond.

A figure materialized from the fog, hurtling toward Naomi on spindly legs. She raised her bow and drew and arrow, ready to attack.

But what came into view was familiar, at least partially so. Naomi lowered her weapon, heart racing at the sight.

It was Serenity, or at least something like the spirit. She had not been able to maintain her normal form in the tempest, and instead appeared a twisted version of a deer. Her eyes now shown red, and she had too many limbs, her tail longer and sharper, whipping violently through the air.

But the spirit did not attack, and when she lowered her gnarled snout to Naomi, she extended her hand.

_Follow me._

Naomi did.


	114. Waiting

Cullen stood on Skyhold’s eastern walls, one hand gripping the pommel of his sword, the other stuffed into a pocket, trying to ignore the cold wind that bit against this skin and through his armor. He watched the slowly meandering curtains of light that hung above the mountains, its soft green glow twisting among the stars.

It was all that was left of the Breach.

Everyone down below was celebrating its closure, drinking and dancing, and every now and then a cheer would drift up to the walls. The first waves of the army had started to return from the Arbor Wilds not long after it had happened, and while some units had been sent ahead to find the Inquisitor, most were now crowding Skyhold, adding to the revelry.

But Cullen couldn’t celebrate. He couldn’t forget what the sky had looked like before the Breach had been closed, the way it stormed and shook the heavens. Even from their distance, the Breach had appeared monstrous, growing at an alarming rate that had everyone in the fortress watching, waiting. They had been some of the worst hours of Cullen’s life, watching that maelstrom, knowing Naomi was in the middle of it and that he could do nothing.

And then it had closed. After several hours, something had changed. It stopped growing, and then slowly, miraculously… it had closed.

It meant the Inquisitor had survived, at least long enough to heal the Veil. But Cullen did not know what had happened to any of those who had been with her.

He didn’t know what had happened to Naomi.

It was a relief to see the Breach gone, but he could not relax, he could not celebrate. He would not be satisfied until Naomi was back in his arms.

He tried to remind himself of every reason he had not to worry. Her skin was impervious to blades, she was a decent fighter, and she was with countless others who were incredibly skilled…

But things still went wrong. Battles did not go as planned. Something could have happened.

“Though all before me is shadow,” he murmured to himself, watching the lights wind lazily across the sky. “Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light, and nothing that he has wrought shall be lost…”

Cullen took out the ring he had been gripping in his pocket, and slowly turned it in the dim light. He had asked Dagna to make it, after finding himself in the undercroft after Naomi had left. He was looking for her journal, and Dagna had been the one to pull it out of the stacks of books and papers that had collected on Naomi’s workspace. The arcanist had been agitated, and rambled about needing something to do. On an impulse, Cullen had asked about the ring.

The woman had returned less than a day later with the ring, and Cullen had not let go of it since. It was enchanted as the other to remove any excess mana in her body, but this one was so much more than a single emerald set in silverite. Dagna had asked what he wanted, and all Cullen could say was that it should be as beautiful as Naomi’s eyes.

What Dagna had pulled together was… unconventional, but stunning, if in a strange way. It was obvious the dwarf had used whatever gems she had laying around to make it, but though they did not match in size, cut, or color, somehow the blues and greens  came together as a perfect whole…

He hoped Naomi would like it.

He hoped she would accept his proposal.

He hoped he would even have the chance to ask.

 _She will come back,_ he thought to himself, looking at that ring, the ring he would use when he asked her to spend the rest of their lives together. He swallowed the pain that had formed in his throat at the thought that it might not happen. _Maker, please… she has to come back…_

 

* * *

 

Naomi felt like she had been running for hours, but she knew that was most likely a trick of her mind. In her panic every minute felt like ten, and no matter how fast she followed Serenity through the Fade, it didn’t feel fast enough. She needed to see James. She needed to bring him back.

Serenity was agitated as well, bounding ahead, then circling back, pacing and stamping her spindled legs. It terrified Naomi a little to see her friend so twisted, but she couldn’t focus on how to help the spirit return to her calmer form. And Naomi knew she was likely contributing to Serenity’s distress just as much as the chaos around them.

Naomi wouldn’t be calmer and able to help Serenity until she found James. She would be useless to her friend until he was safely returned to his body.

Naomi ran for several more moments, trying her best to keep pace with Serenity. It worried her how long they were taking to reach James, but she trusted the spirit wasn’t leading her astray, trusted that he really was somewhere ahead.

Finally, _finally_ , Naomi heard a commotion. A man was shouting, and Naomi felt in her gut that it was James. She ran faster, Serenity dancing just feet ahead, and rounded a rock outcropping...

She thought she might cry from relief. Serenity had led her straight to her brother. He wasn’t gone.

But he wasn’t exactly safe, and Naomi had no time to process her joy. James was in the midst of a battle, swinging a giant sword at the small group of demons swarming around him. Naomi brought a bow to her hands and joined the fray, picking off the demons waiting on the fringes. Serenity jumped in as well, sharpened antlers now on her head. But she didn’t use them, and instead jumped on a shade’s back, bringing it down to the ground as she tore into its body with her teeth.

With the extra help the battle was soon over. James roared angrily and smashed the last terror beneath his blade, and it was Naomi yelling at him that kept the weapon from turning next on Serenity.

James watched her with wide eyes as Naomi ran toward him, and stumbled slightly back when she threw her arms around his neck, forcing him to bend slightly so she could crush him in her embrace. “James,” she sighed, starting to shake and cry. “Oh James… I’m so glad I found you.”

He wasn’t gone. He was here, in her arms…

“What happened?” he asked her. Hearing his voice was so beautiful…

Naomi pulled back and searched his face. He looked confused, lost. He didn’t realize what had happened, where he was… “James… you were injured…”

He frowned. “The… the dragon?”

She nodded. “Yes.” She swallowed and gripped him tighter. His body was so broken, destroyed by the dragon’s teeth…

James seemed to see the fear in her expression. “How badly?” he whispered.

Naomi shook her head. He didn’t need to know those details. “You’re going to be okay James,” she said. “The mages will heal you—

“How bad Naomi?”

She swallowed. “I… had to do CPR… your heart…” She took a deep breath. “You’re going to be fine James, you just need to wake up.”

His frown deepened. “Wake up? Where am I?”

“In the Fade…”

He snarled and pulled away. “Fucking… Of course…” He looked around, his eyes landing on Serenity, who was watching them from a few paces away. Naomi suddenly sawher friend as her brother would see her, and realized just how monstrous she had become. “Why did you stop me killing that demon?”

“It’s not a demon,” Naomi said. “It’s Serenity. She led me to you.”

James eyed the spirit warily for a moment, but then he nodded. “How do I get out of here?”

Naomi dropped her hands and took a step back. “Ok, ok… just… close your eyes and… and feel the link back to your body. The pull on your mind…”

James closed his eyes, and Naomi watched him, her heart racing. This had to work. This had to be enough. David had not woken up, but James would…

But after a moment he opened his eyes. “There’s nothing,” he said quietly.

Naomi started to panic again, her eyes starting to leak more tears. If he couldn’t find his way back...

Did it mean it was too late?

_No. No, no, no…_

“Try again,” she told him, wiping away the moisture falling down her face.

“Naomi…”

“Try again!”

James sighed, but closed his eyes and scrunched his brow. Naomi watched, barely breathing, praying for him to disappear, to wake up…

But again nothing happened. He shook his head. “There’s nothing Naomi.”

She clenched her fists, trying to keep her spiraling emotions under control. This couldn’t be happening. He was here. He was _alive._ His heart was beating…

_Except… maybe not. Maybe he…_

Naomi closed her eyes and crouched down. She could barely breathe. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be the end…

After a moment she felt James sit down at her side. “Naomi,” he said softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his body. “It’s okay...”

But it wasn’t. He was dying… he might already be dead…

He shouldn’t be this calm. He should be raging and fighting, _trying_ to claw his way back…

“It’s not okay!” she cried, lifting her face and looking at him. “I _know_ what it’s like to not have a connection to your body! I know what it’s like to… to know that you might be…” Her voice caught and her lip trembled as she tried to keep herself from bursting into tears. “How are you so calm?” she demanded.

James frowned slightly, then sighed. “I’m just… so used to being near death…,” he said quietly.

“Not like this,” Naomi choked. This was different, so, so different. He had never been injured this badly…

“I know,” he said, staring into the distance, his jaw clenching. “But I’ve known for a while I might die while fighting. I’ve… accepted that.”

But Naomi hadn’t, and it hurt to hear him say those words. “That doesn’t mean you can just treat it like it’s nothing! You can’t just stop trying!” She sniffed and wiped at her nose. “You should care!”

James looked at her suddenly, his brow furrowed and eyes storming. “Of course I care!” he cried. Then he covered his eyes with a hand and let out a long breath. “But if I’m dead, then… that’s it. There’s nothing I can do about it.” He rubbed at his face. “I don’t want to cry and fall apart over it. I don’t… I don’t want to be sad…” His body started to shake and he shook his head. “Fuck, Naomi. I don’t want to think about it”!

Guilt washed over Naomi as she watched her brother. Of course he didn’t want to think about it. Just because she wanted to cry and scream and fall apart didn’t mean he should do the same. He was the one in danger, not her…

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when he seemed to calm. James lowered his hands and looked at her, his eyes shining red.

“I don’t want to fight with you right now,” he said softly.

Naomi wiped at her cheek. “Me neither.”

She moved closer, wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing herself into his side. “You’re going to be all right,” she whispered. “Vivienne and Dorian and Solas are going to heal you, and you are going to wake up.”

James took a deep breath and hugged her back. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he murmured.

Naomi nodded. She didn’t think talking would be the best for her either. She was barely holding herself together.

But she wasn’t about to let him go so easily either. He didn’t want to talk about his condition, but it was tearing Naomi apart. She thought of David, and started to cry again. She had made the mistake of waking up before David, and something had gone wrong. She had lost him, but she would not let James go. Cullen had told her that he believed those who died crossed the Fade to the Maker’s side. James might already be in the Fade, but Naomi had no intention of letting him cross to some other side. She would stay by his side until he woke up, or until…

She couldn’t even consider the possibility. He _would_ wake up.

And they couldn’t just sit, waiting around to see what would happen. Naomi realized it might not be good to stay where they were. Eventually the others would no longer be able to wait, and would have to return to Skyhold with their bodies…

And the area of the Fade they were in was too turbulent. Naomi didn’t like what it had done to Serenity, and wanted to get out as soon as possible.

So she unfurled from her ball and forced herself to her feet. She reached down for James’s hand and pulled him to standing. She met his gaze, and found he was once more calm. She blinked away tears, determined to stop crying. “We need to head toward Skyhold,” she told him as she started to walk, dragging James with her, reluctant to let his hand go.  

“How do you know where that is?” James asked, following her a step behind.

“The Fade will bring us there,” Naomi told him, praying it was true, and that the Breach had not destroyed their hope of finding the fortress.

And she prayed that James wouldn’t leave her.

 

* * *

 

Nassella sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, feeling the cold seeping through her clothes and into her body. But she didn’t care enough to move, or to find more layers.

She was numb. A little more cold didn’t matter.

She watched as Stitches worked on James. The surgeon from Bull’s Chargers removed old bandages and replaced them with clean poultices, checking to be sure the stitches he had placed in the wounded man’s body were still holding. When James’s armor had been removed back at the Temple, his injuries had been even more extensive than anyone realized. Nassella felt tears prick at her eyes even now, looking at the angry red wounds and lacerations covering his chest and stomach, and those that had nearly sheared his legs in half. Pouring mana into his body wasn’t enough to close the wounds, and it had been the skilled hands of Stitches that put James back together in a way that would even allow him to heal.

Vivienne took over when the surgeon was done, giving what mana she could spare to James. Some of the redness and bruising reduced with the burst of healing magic, but it wasn’t enough to restore him to health. The mages were regaining their mana slowly, and James was not the only one injured who needed attending. Nassella had refused magic to heal her own broken bones, instead insisting that the mages focus on James.

They would be making faster progress if Solas hadn’t disappeared, making his powers unavailable to help James. Nassella knew she should be furious that the man she had loved for so long had abandoned her the moment the fight was over. The Chargers had scoured the Temple when they realized the elf was missing, but he had just… vanished.

But Nassella couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She hardly cared. She was too consumed by James to feel anything but numb.

They had waited nearly two hours for Naomi and James to wake back up at the Temple. It had been torture to wait, hoping every moment that either would open their eyes. When it became clear that it wasn’t going to happen… Nassella had despaired, unable to make any decision about what to do next. She had felt nothing, and could think of little beyond her own pain.

It was Bull who had suggested they start moving. The Chargers had cleared the last demons from the area surrounding the Temple, it was cold, and those in Skyhold would be waiting for them. They had scrounged a cart from the rubble, rounded up what horses had not wandered too far off, and loaded the siblings into it so they could be moved. Nassella had seated herself at James’s side, holding his hand and waiting for him to come back.

But he hadn’t, and as the hours passed, Nassella lost more and more hope that he ever would. Naomi had gone to find him, and if she was still asleep, it meant she was still searching. It meant she had not found him.

It meant… he was probably gone.

They had stopped after several hours. Everyone had been awake for days, and they needed to rest. Fires had been built and shelters erected. Dorian and Vivienne had done their healing, and then they had slept.

Except Nassella. She could not fall asleep, could not risk James slipping away while she was unconscious. She had stayed by his side until the others woke again.

He had not gotten any worse.

He hadn’t gotten any better either.

She knew she should be glad that Corypheus was gone, and that the Breach was finally sealed. But the victory was soured by what had happened to James, and Nassella found no solace in knowing the fight was over. Her heart was ripped out again and again, knowing how much he had been through, how much he had suffered, and knowing he had fallen while protecting her…

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t right. Someone like James, who was good and brave and kind… shouldn’t find himself dying like this.

He shouldn’t be here.

He should be helping the others who were wounded, laughing and joking with Bull, or sitting quietly by the fire and listening to everyone else as they regaled stories. He should be teasing his sister, smiling at Nassella, or grumbling about Solas’s disappearance…

Instead he was dying.

It shouldn’t be happening like this. Nassella was supposed to tell James how she felt. So they could… they could be together. Or if not her, he should have the chance to find someone else to love, be happy and live a long life making Thedas better, safer. He deserved the chance to know peace, to finally let the pain of these past years go…

None of that could happen if he died.

And Nassella needed him to come back. She didn’t know what she would do if did not. Her clan was dead, her missing vallaslin meant joining any other clan was impossible, Solas had broken her heart and then abandoned her…

Her future was dark, empty and alone. James was her best friend, and now she was going to lose him, before she even had the chance to tell him how she felt.

She wished she had never left her clan, wished she had stayed in the Free Marches and never become the Herald, never been tasked with saving the world, never met James. If she had just stayed home, she wouldn’t be feeling this pain…

Vivienne finished her work and replaced the blankets covering James’s body. She took a moment to check on Naomi lying by her brother’s side, and Nassella’s numbness spread. Her friend had thrown herself into the Fade to find her brother, and Nassella knew how distraught the woman would be, how frantically she must be searching. It just added to Nassella’s depression, knowing how much Naomi would hurt to lose her remaining family.

Vivienne walked to where Dorian was sitting next to Bull. The Qunari stood and left the mages talking, moving toward Nassella and settling himself at her side. Nassella said nothing. She watched as Vivienne and Dorian exchanged a few words, heart sinking even further toward her stomach when she saw the way they glanced sadly in her direction. Vivienne shook her head, then returned to her tent.

Nassella didn’t think anyone believed James would pull through. She was finding it harder to believe herself.

“You should get some sleep Boss,” Bull said quietly, his voice rumbling through Nassella’s numb body.

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“He’ll be here when you wake up.”

Nassella felt a tear slip down her cheek. “You don’t know that. No one believes he’s going to make it…”

Bull wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his body. “He’s tough,” the giant man told her. “If anyone can survive something like this, it’s James.” He rubbed at her arm. “And Naomi’s not going to let him get away that easily. Don’t give up on him yet.”

Nassella nodded, grounded by Bull’s presence. She knew James was strong, one of the strongest people she knew, and Naomi would fight for her brother to the end…

But it didn’t mean it would work, and Nassella felt helpless. There was nothing she could do to help him. He had very nearly given his life for hers, and there was nothing she could do for him now.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nassella whispered. “I can’t… I can’t lose him Bull.” More tears slipped down her cheeks.

And she loved him.

She loved him, more than she had ever loved anybody. This pain she felt now was nothing like the mild disappointment of leaving Mahanon with her clan, or the punch to the gut Solas’s abandonment had left.

She felt empty, numb. Thinking of her life without James was cold and bleak and completely, utterly devoid of joy or hope…

She realized now she could live without Solas, could certainly live without Mahanon. But living without James, losing him like this…

She couldn’t imagine it.

Bull squeezed her tighter. “You won’t.”

She felt like a fool for having spent so much energy suppressing her feelings. She should have realized sooner where her heart truly was. Solas had disappeared and she couldn’t bring herself to care. He had always kept himself at a distance, and she knew she should have seen this abandonment coming, since he had ended their relationship just days before.

James had never left her side. Right until the very end.

And she thought… that maybe he loved her too. The way he held her, looked at her, laughed with her, danced with her… She had denied it, called it friendship, but looking back… it could be more…It had to be more.

And now it didn’t matter. It was too late to find out.

Naomi had told her once that he did. And Nassella had decided that night to tell James she felt the same…

And then he’d gone off with that other woman.

But Nassella had been with Solas. She _had_ loved Solas… she still did in a way. What else was James supposed to do?

Nassella knew she should have told him how she felt anyway.

_It doesn’t matter now._

After another moment in silence, Bull squeezed her close. “You should sleep,” he urged her again. “He won’t go anywhere.”

Nassella wanted to refuse again, but she _was_ exhausted. And it might be nice, to have a few moments when she was free of this emptiness.

But instead of returning to one of the shelters set up for sleeping, she moved to James’s side. Carefully she situated herself next to him, and found a way to snuggle close to his body and under his blankets without aggravating her own injuries. She slipped her fingers through his and pressed her nose into his neck, breathing in his scent and feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

It was reassuring enough for her to slip into sleep.

 

* * *

 

Cullen was in the Chantry, praying, when he received word that the Inquisitor had returned.

He brushed past the messenger who had brought the news and nearly ran through Skyhold toward the front gates. The first of the unit that had been sent to find the Inquisitor was filing through the gates, and Cullen waited impatiently, scanning every new face that came into view. He found Bull first among the crowd, and looking closer revealed Dorian at his side, and then Blackwall. Vivienne and Cassandra were on horseback, and Cullen looked over the remaining horses, seeing more than one empty saddle…

Including Liberty’s.

When he saw the mare everything around Cullen slowed, went quiet. He stopped breathing, watching as the spotted horse danced around the courtyard, unguided and skittish as the crowds surged around her. Naomi should be seated there, expertly moving the horse through the yard…

_No… no it cannot be…_

Cullen started shouldering his way past the people in his way, desperately looking for Naomi among those on the ground. But he couldn’t find her. She was nowhere…

_No. No! Where are you Naomi…?_

He was frantic, his breaths and heart now racing as he searched. But she wasn’t among the crowd.

She hadn’t come back.

Cullen stopped moving, the horrible realization sinking into his body with a soul-crushing ache.

_She didn’t come back._

“Cullen!” It was a woman’s voice, distant and clouded, but not the voice he longed to hear. Cullen couldn’t look toward the sound. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, attempting to keep from breaking down in front of his soldiers.

She hadn’t come back. This woman he loved more than anyone, more than anything he had ever loved, was gone…

“Cullen,” the voice said again, accompanied this time by a hand on his arm. “She’s alright Cullen. Naomi’s alright…”

He looked down, into Nassella’s large green eyes. He felt a surge of hope. “Where is she?” he asked.

Nassella tugged on his arm and led him through the crowd, toward a small wooden cart that had been pulled by James’s horse Echo. Cullen jogged to the cart, looking into the interior.

Naomi was there, lying on her back, her eyes closed and unmoving. It was only Nassella’s words that made Cullen look closer, to not assume the worst and see that her chest was rising and falling gently, to see that her cheeks were still flushed with life.

“She’s sleeping,” Nassella said softly.

Cullen reached down and grasped Naomi’s hand. She was cold, but not unnaturally so. “Why?” he asked, looking up to Nassella who had moved to the other side of the cart.

The elf lowered her own hand and gripped the arm of the figure lying next to Naomi. “She’s looking for James in the Fade,” Nassella whispered.

Cullen looked, _really_ looked, at who else was in the cart with Naomi. His breath caught when he saw James, pale and still, covered in a blanket, but his face scratched and bruised…The man was injured, but he wasn’t healing.

“What happened?” Cullen whispered.

He saw a tear slip down Nassella’s cheek, and she reached to brush an errant strand of hair off of James’s forehead. “The dragon,” was all she said, so quietly Cullen could hardly hear.

Bull arrived then, followed by Dorian and Blackwall with a gurney carried between them. Bull gently guided Nassella back with a hand on her elbow. “We need to move them inside,” he rumbled quietly. Nassella nodded and stepped back, though her eyes never left James. Bull bent down and worked his hands underneath the injured man’s body. With a grunt he stood, the only man large enough to life James’s bulk. He settled the man on the gurney, Nassella hovering just a foot beyond.

Dorian and Blackwall carried him away, but before Bull could turn to Naomi, Cullen bent down and picked her up. Cradling her carefully against his chest, he followed the others toward a small room nestled in Skyhold’s walls that served as a surgery.

Once James and Naomi were settled on beds, they were seen to by fresh healers. Naomi was only sleeping, and otherwise healthy, so their efforts were focused on James. Poultices were removed, stiches checked, and then a spirit healer saw to healing him more fully.

Cullen and Nassella watched hopefully as James’s wounds began to close, the mages hands running blue magic over his body, tracing the lacerations and punctures left by the dragon’s teeth. The healer did not heal everything – there were many others who had come back from the Arbor Wilds who needed the attention of mages – but James was made stable, his wounds brought to a point where they were no longer a danger to him.

But he did not wake. Nassella sat at his side, gripping his hand, watching hopefully. The mage left them alone and moments passed, but James stayed as still as ever. Nassella started to cry, and raised his hand to her lips, squeezing her eyes shut as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cullen had never seen her so upset. As the Inquisitor, Nassella kept her emotions in check, and any outbursts of anger or sorrow were quickly tempered. And Cullen was rarely around the elf in private, during those times when she might allow herself to let go of the harder façade she so often placed around herself.

She made no attempt to hide her sorrow now, as she cried and held James’s hand. Cullen felt a sharp pain in his throat, watching her grieve. She had removed the outer layers of her armor somewhere along the road, but had not cleaned herself any further. She was still streaked with blood and mud, her hair falling from its binding, her face covered in scratches, and her broken arm held against her body in a sling. Cullen doubted she had slept or ate since the battle. He couldn’t blame her. It was hard to rest, knowing someone you loved was in danger...

And it was obvious she loved him. Cullen had started to suspect, but it was so clear now, as she struggled to keep herself together. Theirs was more than a friendship, and Cullen ached to think that James might be lost to her.

It made Cullen ache to think that James might be lost at all. He had grown fond of the man, and admired the dedication with which he had given himself to fighting for the Inquisition, to protecting those who could not protect themselves. It was no surprise that James had fallen doing just that. But with his abilities, no one had expected it might lead to his end.

But he was not gone yet. James still breathed, and now his injuries no longer threatened his life. It was worrying that he had not immediately woken, but Cullen knew Naomi was searching for him.

Though that made him ache as well, almost more than anything else. Once again Naomi was searching for a brother in the Fade, and Cullen knew how worried she would be, how much she must be hurting. He wished he could help her, but when it came to the Fade, there was nothing he could do.

At least this time he would stay by her side. He would not walk away as she slept for days in search of her family, and he would be here when she woke, to join in her celebration…

Or hold her in grief.

Several more moments passed in silence. Cullen wished he knew what to say, what he could do for the elf sitting across the room. But there was nothing to do but wait, and hope and trust that the brother and sister lying between them were strong enough to see this through.

Voices grew louder outside, and Cullen looked toward the door as Leliana and Josephine entered the small room. Josephine clutched her ledger to her chest, her eyes bouncing between those lying down. “My dear,” she whispered, eyes lingering on James’s exposed stomach, criss-crossed with nearly healed pink wounds and still bruised yellow. “They said he was injured, but this…” She shook her head.

“He will surely wake,” Leliana offered quietly. “These injuries are no longer a threat to his life.”

Nassella lowered the hand clutching James’s and nodded slowly. “He’s strong,” she whispered. “He’ll… he’ll pull through…”

Cullen didn’t think she sounded convinced, as if she did not believe her own words. But he was hopeful.

Josephine fiddled with her ledger. “I’m sure he will,” she said. Then she cleared her throat. “We have come to… to discuss the celebration,” she continued. “We believe it would be good to have you make an appearance Inquisitor, perhaps give a speech…”

Nassella flashed her eyes up toward the ambassador, glaring at the woman. “I am not celebrating until James wakes up,” she snarled.

“Yes Inquisitor,” Leliana said. Nassella flinched at the title. “But seeing you after your victory is crucial for the troops…”

Nassella stood suddenly, straining as she often did to appear tall. “Does this look like a victory?!” she cried, gesturing toward James with her uninjured arm. “There is nothing I want to celebrate, and I won’t pretend to be happy for anyone. My duties are done. I killed Corypheus. I closed the Breach... They know I’m alive. That will have to be enough.” She sat back down and retook James’s hand in hers, staring at his face, her own expression hard. She was once more the Inquisitor – though she had insisted she had no interest in fulfilling those duties – and attempted to hide her pain from prying eyes.

Cullen stood and caught Leliana’s eye. “The troops will be fine,” he told her, opening the door and ushering the women outside. “The celebrations have started without Nassella, and they will continue without her.” Leliana hesitated for one moment, but nodded and followed Josephine outside.

By the time he turned around Nassella had started crying again, her head pressed against James’s side. Cullen crossed to her side of the room, no longer worried about what he should say. It didn’t matter. She just couldn’t be alone.

He sat by her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She was shaking, but soon that started to calm. She lifted her head, lips quivering as she looked at James. “I don’t know what to do Cullen,” she said, her voice trembling. “He saved my life and I can’t do anything for him…”

Cullen rubbed her arm. It crossed his mind that it was the first time he had held her. “Just sit with him. You will be here when he wakes.”

She sniffed. “And what if he doesn’t?” she asked, her voice so small Cullen could hardly hear.

Cullen didn’t want to think about that. “Naomi won’t let that happen.” He looked toward her, lying so peacefully on her bed. Looking at her gave no indication that she was likely in the midst of a frantic search.

“She saved my life too,” Nassella said, and Cullen looked down to see her gazing at the woman across the room. “Bull told me. We were all separated, and I had been knocked out… Naomi kept the dragon away until James could reach me…” She let out a long sigh, her thumb stroking James’s hand. “It’s why there was no mana left to help heal him sooner.” She looked up with bright eyes. “I knew my life had changed when they were brought here… but I didn’t think they would _save_ my life…”

“They love you,” Cullen murmured. And he couldn’t help but feel warm pride spread through his chest. For all her doubt and uncertainty in her own abilities, Naomi nearly always managed to find the strength when she needed it most. “And they will come back to you.”

Nassella’s lip trembled, and she nodded. Then she laid her head back down on James’s chest, gazing up toward his pale, still face. “He better,” she said softly.

 

* * *

 

Naomi crested a rise and paused, surveying the Fade before her.

It was a grassland.

One of the many she had left scattered through the Fade while she slept, this one far enough away from the chaos of the Breach to have not been destroyed. This particular grassland was like those in the sandy center of Nebraska, the rolling hills stretching to the horizon, not a tree in sight. The sky above was dark, a summer thunderstorm building in the distance. It made sense in a way. Naomi didn’t feel as if the sky should be blue.

James joined her and looked over the landscape, his lips turning up slightly at the corners. “It looks like home,” he said quietly.

Naomi smiled. She hadn’t been sure James would recognize the sandhills. “I made it,” she told him. “Several months ago.”

James looked at her, surprised. “How did you do that?”

Naomi shrugged, then looked back at the land. After a directed thought a river appeared, cutting through the hills, a few cottonwoods and willows sprouting along its edges, leaves rustling slightly in a nonexistent wind. “I just think about it. That’s how I change things here.”

James was frowning, and he shook his head slightly. “I can’t believe this is where you come every night.”

“It’s not so bad,” Naomi told him. She started to move, descending the hill and entering the grass. Plants brushed up to her knees, and as she passed, Naomi realized several of the flowers had been morphed, altered by the Fade over time to take on new shapes and strange colors. Serenity bounded several yards ahead, still twisted nearly beyond recognition. “And it’s why I could find you.”

“I guess that was lucky,” James said. “But I’d rather not dream like this all the time.”

Naomi nodded, picking up her pace. “We’re close,” she told her brother, starting up the next hill. “Once we’re through this, Skyhold won’t be far.”

A moment passed in silence. “It’s kind of crazy, to think how much has happened since we got here,” James mused.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Naomi replied, though she often tried _not_ to think about everything that had happened. Most of it was more painful than she liked to remember.

“Demons and magic and dragons… saving the world. It’s like something from a novel.”

“It is… kind of unbelievable,” Naomi agreed. “I expect Varric will have something published within the year.”

“And eventually people will start to think all of this really was a story,” he said. “They won’t remember that it actually happened.”

“I’m not sure,” Naomi said. “Magic is so common here… a story with magic would be treated like history.”

“What if we used to have magic on Earth,” James mused, jumping over a small creek. Naomi followed a step behind. “What if all of our fairy tales and… and the religious stories, were all true?”

Naomi frowned. “I’m not sure… I suppose the Fade is near Earth, so there could be magic. But… but there is no evidence, and no mages…”

“Don’t you think mages would have figured out how to stay hidden?”

Naomi shook her head. “No… no that can’t be true. We would know. There would be evidence.”

James shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” They walked another moment. “What do you think will happen next?” James asked.

“You’ll wake up,” Naomi told him.

“I mean after,” James said, surging slightly ahead. Naomi widened her paces to keep up. “There will probably be demons and red Templars left to kill, and maybe rifts that haven’t been discovered. I’m sure Ness will be busy with that…”

 “And you can help her,” Naomi responded.

“Yeah…” He was silent for another moment. “But what will you do?”

Naomi had not been thinking of her own future, and it was a struggle to refocus her thinking. “I’ll keep researching lyrium I suppose. And I’ll work with horses… I guess I don’t know entirely.”

“What about Cullen?”

Naomi frowned. “What about him?”

“Are you… going to stay with him?”

Naomi stopped, and watched James walking ahead. But he did not slow, so Naomi quickly started again, to catch up. “Of course,” Naomi said. “That’s… that’s the one thing I know I want. To be with Cullen.”

“Good,” James sighed. “I’m glad you have him.”

“Me too,” she murmured. “I… can’t imagine getting through… through everything without him.”

She would need him, if the worst were to happen…

_No! James is going to be fine. He’s going to wake up…_

For several moments they said nothing, and Naomi focused on Skyhold. Cullen was there, waiting for her to return. She couldn’t wait to see him. She needed to crawl into his arms, bury her head in his shoulder, and just cry…

But that would have to wait. She would try to keep from crying in front of James, try to keep her pain from being too obvious. He had to be scared, calm as he appeared, and she would not give him anything else to worry about.

They were nearly to the other side of the grassland when James stopped suddenly, his shoulders tensed. Naomi hurried around to face him. “James, what’s wrong?” she asked, reaching for his arm. “Are you all right?”

He nodded absently. “I… I feel something,” he whispered. “Tugging on my mind, pulling me…” He looked at her, his eyes wide. “Am I… am I waking up?” His voice was so small, so frightened.

Naomi’s heart had started to race, with hope and fear… She started to nod. “Yes… yes I think so.” She squeezed his arm. “You just… follow that pull. It will take you back to your body.” She tried to smile. “You’re going to be fine James.”

He met her gaze and reached for her shoulder. He frowned, his gaze dark and guarded. “Naomi,” he murmured. “If I… if I _don’t_ wake up…”

Naomi shook her head. “You’re going to wake up James!”

“Just listen Naomi,” he insisted. He took a deep breath. “If I _don’t_ wake up… can you make sure Ness knows that I… that I love her, and that I’m sorry I… I didn’t tell her sooner.”

Naomi’s heart ached. She had _told_ him, weeks ago, to tell Nassella how he felt, and now he might not get the chance.

She hated to think he could die with such a regret. It was fear of the exact same thing that had compelled her to admit her own love to Cullen…

_No, he’ll be able to tell her. He’s going to be ok, he’s going to wake up. He will get his chance._

“You can tell her when you wake up,” Naomi said. She swallowed, the lump forming in her throat as well as her fear. She didn’t know what was pulling James away, if it really was his body, or something else… “Just focus on what is pulling you… follow that thread…”

James pulled her into a hug, crushing her body against his with his arms. Naomi clutched him back, letting a few tears fall onto his tunic. “I love you Naomi,” he murmured, his body shaking slightly. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Of course I came to find you,” she whispered. “I love you too.”

James hugged her a second longer, then pulled back. He gave her a curt nod, then closed his eyes. “I’ll see you on the other side,” he said, his voice catching slightly.

And then he disappeared.

Naomi let out a sob, and covered her mouth with her hand. She believed he had returned to his body, but a part of her still worried, still thought that maybe that pull on his mind had not come from Skyhold, and had instead been urging him beyond…

She shook her head. No. He was alive. All she had to do was wake up herself, and she would find him there, lying next to her. It wasn’t the end for him.

But she was scared to wake up. Scared to be wrong. If she stayed here, in her grassland in the Fade, she could imagine he was fine, alive and well, laughing and smiling with Ness, joining in the celebration that was certainly happening in Skyhold.

But she couldn’t stay. Nothing good had come when she stayed behind, when she hid. The best things in her life came when she swallowed her fear and moved forward.

She had to move now. So Naomi took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focused on the thread that was pulling her to Skyhold. Whatever happened she would move forward, as she had done since she was pulled through the Fade, since she had pulled herself together after David’s death. And this time would be easier, no matter what, because she would not be alone.

She pulled on the connection and woke up.


	115. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know so many of you have been waiting for this...

Nassella ran her thumb over James’s hand, feeling the roughness of its texture, the veins that stood out like small ridges. She had memorized the feel of his hand over the hours she had held it while waiting, though she wished desperately that he would grip her back as tightly as she held him.

She had settled herself next to his side when she had finally calmed and Cullen had moved to rejoin Naomi. Hours she had lain there, falling into a fitful nap once, only to wake with a start, overcome with a small panic before she realized James was still alive.

She had tried harder to stay awake, and was now watching his face, drinking in his features. His beard needed a trim, but nothing could hide how handsome he was, and Nassella found herself unable to look away. She had never taken the opportunity to really _look_ at his face, and spend minutes on end studying the line of his nose, the cut of his jaw, or the curve of his mouth, but she took the chance now. His brow was so smooth, giving no indication of the pain he was certainly in, and she loved how peaceful he looked. She could almost imagine he wasn’t fighting for his life, that he was just sleeping.

It was how she wanted to remember him.

She frowned and shook the thought from her mind. This would not be the way she remembered him, cold and still and dying…

He was none of those things. He was warmth, strength, motion, life… everything she wanted, everything she loved.

And it was _him_ she wanted. Lying by his side for hours had made that clear. She could no longer bring herself to be angry about Solas, and had accepted that he was gone. He left her without saying goodbye, with no indication that he was going to disappear. He had abandoned her, and she was convinced that anyone who loved her at all would never do something like that.

He was gone, disappearing as mysteriously as he appeared. It was that mystery she had been attracted to at the first, the way he could fit into no category of elf she had ever known. He was more knowledgeable than her own Keeper, yet so critical of the Dalish and their beliefs, not a city elf, but unadorned with vallaslin…

He had helped her through the transition into the Inquisition, provided the anchor to her heritage that kept her from floundering, and guided her through the turbulent waters of the new human world. And he had given her the companionship she so desperately needed so far from home…

But then he had disappeared, and it did not devastate Nassella as she knew it should, if she really loved him as deeply as she had thought.

Because she had grown, beyond what Solas could give her. She didn’t need a teacher, or a guide. She needed a companion, someone who would grow and move forward at her side, need her as much as she needed them…

She needed James. He had grown and changed as much as her, adjusted to this new life in step with her. He was always at her side, and laying so close to him felt like… home.

She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone. Solas leaving her had not destroyed her… but losing James would. She had never been entirely Solas’s, because of James. She saw that now, how James had always had a piece of her heart and kept her from fully giving herself to another.

Nassella started to cry, and sniffed, tying to keep her tears under control.

She was terrified of losing him. Before they even had a chance to start.

“He will come back,” Cullen murmured softly. Nassella hadn’t realized she was crying so loudly. “Don’t give up hope.”

“I… I haven’t,” she said, holding James’s hand tighter. “But I… I love him,” she breathed. “And I’m afraid.”

It felt so right to say it out loud, to tell _someone._ The words fell so naturally from her lips, and she had to whisper them again. “I love you,” she said, so quietly that only James would hear, if he was awake. And her heart felt lighter, through all the pain.

“I know,” Cullen replied.

She wondered how many others knew. By this point, everyone must. She hadn’t left James’s side in days. Nassella squeezed her eyes shut and started to cry. She regretted so much, but most of all that she had not told James of her love the first time in a way that he would understand. Because now she might never get the chance.

She was still trying to stop crying when everything changed, and the hand she was gripping squeezed back.

 

* * *

 

James blinked, dim light from what must have been candles still a little too bright for his eyes. He squinted, and took a deep breath, wincing when the expansion in his chest sent a dull pain through his entire body. He groaned from the pain, feeling utterly exhausted, his entire body aching and more uncomfortable than he could remember in a long time.

But that meant he had woken up. He didn’t think death would be this painful.

He saw movement out of the corner of his blurry vision, and then something was looming over his face. A few more blinks of his eyes, and the face above him came into view. Dark, messy hair, a thin cleft chin, and green eyes boring into his…

“James,” Nassella breathed.

It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Something wet fell on James’s face, but he didn’t care. He was back, he had woken up. He had come back to Nassella.

“Ness,” he said softly back, his lips pulling up in a smile. After the battle, after the dragon, he had still come through…

He was home. He had come home.

More water fell on his face, and he could see now how red her eyes were. She was crying, and it hurt to see her so upset. He reached up, ignoring the pain it caused, to wipe the next tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. She lifted her own hand to his and squeezed it, holding it against her face.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” she said, her voice wavering.

James swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He was thirsty, and it made talking difficult. “I didn’t either.”

He had given up hope, had accepted he was dead, that he would never see her again. It had kept him together, kept him moving. It was less painful to just think that it was over…

Nassella’s lip started to tremble, along with the hand holding his, but through her crying she started to smile. James cupped her cheek, unable to look away from her perfect, beautiful face, the first face he had seen when he woke…

Voices from the across the room grew louder, and the commotion drew James’s gaze away from Nassella. Naomi had woken as well, and James watched as Cullen pulled her into an embrace, burying his face into her neck. His sister hugged him back, but soon she was pulling away and looking toward James, a bright, relieved smile splitting across her face at the sight of him.

James smiled back, glad to know he had not said goodbye to Naomi in the Fade, that they could both celebrate his return. He was no longer afraid, his heart thumping with happiness.

Naomi nearly skipped across the room to his side, and threw her arms around his neck. James grunted from the small jolt of paint that coursed through him, but held her back just as tightly. “Oh James,” she said through a laugh. “I knew you would wake up!” She moved to place a kiss on his forehead. James glanced at Nassella, seeing that she had backed slightly away. He smiled at her, and she grinned back, her tears starting to dry.

“I’ll get a healer,” Cullen said, and James heard the door open and close, briefly letting in the sounds of the crowd celebrating outside.

“How long have we been out?” Naomi asked Nassella, letting James go but lifting up his blanket slightly so she could see his wounds. She winced slightly at the sight, and James looked himself. As his pain indicated, he was not fully healed, and for the first time in years the wounds persisted.

“A day and a half,” Nassella said, staring at the injuries crossing his stomach. “It’s mid-morning now… I think.”

Naomi reached out a hand and started to run her hands over the half-healed scars on his skin. “Naomi,” he said sternly, reaching for her hand and pulling her away.

“Sorry,” she murmured, then let out a long sigh. “You need food,” she said matter-of-factly, standing and moving toward the door. “Otherwise you won’t have the energy to heal.”

James settled back on the bed, exhausted. Just sitting up slightly and moving his arm took nearly everything out of him. And he was so, so thirsty. “Can you get me a drink?” he asked Nassella.

She nodded and stood immediately, moving to pour a glass of water from a pitcher in the corner with one hand. She brought it back, sitting next to him again, her hip pressing against his arm. James took the cup, consuming the contents with one long drink. Nassella didn’t move, and when James lowered the cup he found her staring with bright eyes, every muscle in her body tense.

He reached for the arm she had held in a sling, careful to not actually touch her. “You need healing.”

She shook her head, still staring. “Not until you are.”

James moved to take her uninjured hand in his, squeezing gently. It was so much smaller than his, and soft, and so utterly perfect in his own… “I will heal,” he told her softly. “You don’t need to suffer too.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek, and James wanted to pull her into a hug. He tried to sit up once more, but it hurt too much. “Ness, please don’t cry,” he said, his own eyes starting to sting.

“I almost lost you,” she whispered, leaning slightly forward. James couldn’t look away from her eyes, and his heart was racing, having her so close. She gripped his hand even tighter, stroking her thumb over the back. “I… I thought you were going to die, and leave me alone…”

“No,” James said, shaking his head and sitting up further. He hated to see her crying, to see her so upset. “Never. I’d never do that.” Never again. He would stay by her side forever…

Nassella’s eyes widened, and then they flicked down to his lips, and didn’t look away. James’s heart was thumping in his ears, and his body was growing warm…

She licked her own lips, then looked up into his eyes. She took a deep breath, then whispered, “I love you James.”

She was so tentative that James almost couldn’t hear her. But she was not so soft that he couldn’t understand.

He forgot to breathe. He’d heard her say those words before, had hoped for months to hear them again. But this time, he believed her…

He didn’t try to run away, didn’t try to rationalize how she could mean something different. He had been through too much, nearly lost everything. He didn’t want to question anymore, didn’t want to doubt anything that she said ever again.

He just looked into her large, beautiful eyes, felt her trembling hand tightly gripping his, and started to smile.

“I love you too.”

It was the final weight off his chest. The battle was over, he was alive, Nassella loved him, and he had finally, _finally_ told her…

Nassella crashed into him, and any other thoughts James might have had were scattered, along with any lingering doubts about her feelings. He gasped, a jolt of electricity burning through his body as her lips found his, driving out every ounce of exhaustion from his body. She leaned closer and James reached for her hips, gripping her body as he kissed her back, tilting his head so he could press himself closer, his face buzzing as her soft, perfect lips started to move with his, moisture coating his face. Whether the tears were from his eyes, or hers, he didn’t know or care…

The door slammed open and Nassella jerked away. James followed her lips, desperate to keep kissing her, to dive deeper into what they had started. His entire body was trembling, excited and aching and coursing with adrenaline. That kiss was far, far from enough.

People were filing into the room, and James reluctantly let Nassella’s body go as she backed away. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks wet, and James watched as she lifted her uninjured arm, touching her fingers to her lips. Lips he had finally kissed, nearly properly, after wanting to for so, so long.

A throat was cleared, and James tore his eyes from Nassella to see Vivienne approaching, her eyes bouncing between the two of them. He could see Cullen and Naomi returning behind her, though they did not seem to have noticed what he and Nassella had been doing. It was all the better, James thought, reaching to wipe at his face. He wasn’t quite ready to see Naomi’s pleased, smug grin just yet.

Vivienne swept across the room to his side, sitting on the cot. “It is good to see you awake,” she told him, her eyes soft and a small smile on her lips. She started to reach for the blankets covering his body, but James shook his head.

“Heal Ness first,” he insisted, once more looking to the elf. She was staring at him, her cheeks still shining with tears and a small smile on her face. But she frowned when he directed Vivienne toward her.

“No James, I’m fine…” Nassella started to protest.

But James held the blankets securely in place. “Heal her first,” he firmly told Vivienne again. “There’s no reason for both of us to still be hurt.”

Vivienne nodded, and stood to move toward Nassella. The elf glowered, but did not try to stop the mage from giving her magical healing. James watched as magic flowed over her arm, relieved to see her body relax as the pain was driven away. When Vivienne was finished, Nassella stretched out her healed arm, sighing slightly in relief. “Thank you Vivienne.”

Vivienne returned to James’s side. “I’m afraid you will have to be content with what little mana I have left, my dear,” she murmured, moving back his blanket to get access to his stomach. After a brief wash of magic relieved some of the aching pain she moved to his legs, raising the blanket up from the bottom to reveal the lacerations from the dragon’s bite across his thighs.

James swallowed thickly as Vivienne healed those as much as she could. He hadn’t even realized his legs were so wounded, and took care to keep them still as she worked.

But her magic was not enough, and he could feel, even more acutely now he was paying attention, how ruined he still was inside.

 _I should be dead,_ he thought as some more of the pain was reduced. _Anyone else would have died…_

Vivienne stood when she was done, replacing his blankets and retreating to the door. “Try to get some rest James,” she told him before she left, her dark eyes glancing for a moment toward Nassella. Her lips twitched, and then she was gone.

James was ready to look back to Nassella, to beckon her closer so he could get back to kissing her. But Naomi crossed the room the moment Vivienne left, food piled high on a tray.

“Here,” she said, oblivious to how distracted he was, to how much he wanted her _gone_ , so he could be alone once more with Nassella. “Eat this. I’m sure it will help you heal faster. Maybe even start up your powers again.”

James didn’t care. He didn’t want food. He wanted Nassella…

“Just leave it and go,” James said, looking back to Nassella. The elf was watching him, grinning, and he could see her bouncing slightly on her feet.

“What?” Naomi asked, and he could tell she was hurt. He felt a little guilty about it, knowing how much she had fought to bring him back. But he just wanted Nassella, nothing more…

“Come Naomi,” Cullen said gently, approaching and pulling her back. “Nassella can help him. You need to get food of your own.”

Her face fell briefly, but then she took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok, yeah. I _am_ hungry.”

James waited impatiently as Cullen herded Naomi from the room. The other man paused briefly before leaving, giving them a small, knowing smile before exciting the room and closing the door.

James looked back to Nassella and found her already moving to his side. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his stomach, and reached for her hand as she sat next to him on the cot. He smiled at her, eyes already seeking her parted lips…

But she resisted as he attempted to tug her back into his embrace. “James, wait,” she whispered, her own eyes bouncing between his eyes and his lips. She leaned closer, but did not kiss him. “I want you to know I’ve wanted you for a long time, long before Solas ever left me…”

James hardly heard what she said, and reached for her face, encouraging her closer. “I don’t care,” he breathed. He didn’t care about anything but kissing her…

She stopped holding back and fell into him with a sigh. She gripped his jaw and pressed her lips into his, tilting her head so they could fit more perfectly together. James moved to capture her bottom lip with his, breathing deeply, smelling for the first time her skin, and the slight scent of soap clinging to it. He slipped his tongue between her lips the next time he moved, and tasted the sweetness of her mouth.

He ran his hands down her body, over her slight curves. Nassella moaned softly, pushing herself into his touch. James moved to cup one of her breasts, and he felt her grin against his mouth, her own hand wandering from his face to run over his bare chest.

She pulled out of their kiss enough to whisper, “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long…,” while running her hand over the hard, curving muscles covering his chest.

He squeezed her breast through the padded cotton covering her torso. “So have I,” he rumbled.

Nassella laughed, then resumed her kissing, nipping and tugging at his lips with her own, her other hand joining the first to touch his body. James kneaded her breast and gripped at her hip, groaning slightly when she slipped her tongue between his lips.

She pushed deeper, rising to her knees so she could angle herself down, kissing him more and more desperately, soft sighs and moans falling from her throat, her hands grasping and tugging on his body. James moaned with her, his body heating, buzzing with electricity and arousal, aching for more…

Nassella clearly wanted the same, and she swung her leg over his body, centering herself over him, pressing herself into his groin, into his already half-hard cock. It sprang even more fully to life, the blood rushing through James’s body accumulating between his legs, causing him to strain up and against the blanket, desperate to feel her wrapped around him.

But her sudden movement also sent a sharp pain searing through his body. As quickly as his erection rose it fell, as his mind was once more reminded that he was not well, that he was not whole.

James had groaned when Nassella slipped over his body, but he did once again, more loudly and more obviously from pain, when she rolled her hips against him. She pulled away from his mouth, her eyes wide and dark and worried as she realized what had happened.

“Oh James, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I… I forgot you were still hurt.”

“It’s ok,” James said with a grunt, grabbing her hips and lifting her up. She rose to her feet and stepped back to his side. He took a steadying breath, his body trembling slightly from the warring sensations of pain and lust coursing through him. “I kind of forgot too.”

Her face was flushed, and her lips still parted as she breathed in elevated breaths. James reached for her hand, disappointment making his chest heavy. She glanced down his body and swallowed. “Creators… I… I don’t want to wait…,” she whispered, her eyes bouncing briefly to his crotch, where the evidence of his cock half-heartedly straining up against the blanket could be seen. Once she had removed herself from his body and the pain reduced, his erection had sprung back to life. “I want you so much…”

His cock twitched, encouraged by her gaze and her words. James let out a small moan, wishing desperately that he would just _heal_ like he normally did. He wanted her, now, and his mind immediately began constructing ways that they could do it. If he laid back down, and Nassella was gentle, they could probably manage…

But he discarded the thought. She deserved better than that. They both did.

“I want you too,” he whispered, and despite their kiss and the evidence between his legs, she looked up at him with surprise. He squeezed her hand. “But I want to do it right. In a bed, when I’m healed so I can… I can move with you…”

He was completely hard, just thinking about it, and a little overwhelmed to realize that it could really happen, that every fantasy he had ever had about her might become a reality. He glanced down her body, wishing he could strip her clothes off and see her naked, know what she looked like so he wouldn’t have to rely on his imagination…

She whined softly, and when he looked at her face she was staring at his lap, her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling gently, and her pupils blown wide. She shifted her hips slightly, and a bolt of pleasure shot through James. God, he was so ready…

But then she closed her eyes and nodded, running one hand over her face. “Yes, of course,” she murmured softly, her voice dropped lower than normal. “I want that too. And we… we should probably talk, about… about all of this…”

James smiled. Yes, they could talk, _needed_ to talk, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. He supposed he ought to know how this had happened, how Nassella had decided she loved him. But he didn’t care. She loved him now, and whatever had transpired to make it happen didn’t matter. After what had happened to him… he just wanted her, no matter what.

He had wanted her, no matter what, for a long time.

He reached for Nassella’s face, and gently ran his thumb along her jaw. She opened her eyes and looked at him, almost sheepishly, lifting her hand to grab his. James let out a long breath, then fell back to the cot, settling himself on his back and encouraging Nassella to join him. He angled his hips slightly to the side, so that his cock would not so obviously tent up the blanket covering his lower body, and ran his thumb a few more times over her jaw and cheek, wandering up to trace the shell of her pointed ear. He nudged his face closer to hers, pressing their foreheads together. “I think we can talk later,” he murmured.

She was still smiling when he kissed her again, gently this time, relishing more fully the movement of her soft lips against his. She wiggled herself closer and buried her fingers in his hair, careful to keep from bumping into his body too forcefully. James felt like he was glowing, happy and content to feel her so close, and he quickly grew breathless from their kiss.

The first time he pulled back to catch his breath, he peppered kisses along her jaw. “I love you,” he said quietly, slipping his hand down her back and cupping her ass. Nassella hummed with pleasure, her eyes, hooded and brimming with love, meeting his.

“I love you,” she murmured back, and James thought his heart might burst.

He kissed her a harder after that, tugging on her lips with renewed passion until she pulled them back for another breath. She kept her lips lightly brushing against his, their breaths mingling together.

“I love you,” she whispered, moving to grip his neck, brushing light kisses over his mouth. “I’m sorry I took so long to realize.”

“Don’t be,” he responded. He didn’t care, so long as he could keep hearing her say those words again and again…

“But I _am_ ,” she insisted quietly. She gripped him more tightly and let out a long breath. “I nearly lost you before you knew,” she said with pain in her voice. “I would have regretted it forever…”

“Shhh,” he urged, running his hand back up the curve of her back to cup her face. “I’m here now. Everything turned out alright.”

She frowned, and her lip started to tremble. “But it almost didn’t”

“It did though,” James told her, and kissed her again, deeply. He didn’t want to think about the last couple of days ever again…

He lost track of how long his lips moved with hers, but after a few desperate moments they mellowed, and just laid together, mouths and hands dancing with each other, until James knew the feel of her was seared into his memory. Kissing Nassella felt so natural, like breathing or walking, and he regretted taking so long to do it.

Their kisses grew lighter and lighter, until they merely brushed against one another with touches light as feathers. James opened his eyes and met her gaze, drinking in the sight of her, pleased that he could so clearly see the flecks of amber circling her pupil. He’d known her eyes were beautiful, but had never had the chance to _really_ look at them.

He realized how foolish he had been, keeping his feelings to himself.

“When you said you loved me in Orlais,” he whispered, gently running his thumb over her ear. “You meant it.”

Nassella nodded. “Of course I did.” And he could hear the hurt, and remembered how he had yelled at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

She let out a small sigh. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because you were with Solas,” James told her. “And you loved _him_. I… I was convinced that you couldn’t love me, that what you said was some kind of mistake.” He closed his eyes. “But I shouldn’t have run away. I shouldn’t have been so unsure. I should have made sure you knew how I felt instead of trying to hide it.”

She was silent for a moment, her fingers running idly through his hair. “I understand,” she finally said. “I realized I loved you so long ago, and I know now that I’ve… I’ve loved you more than Solas since then… but I didn’t think it was possible that you still wanted me, because you had Mayra…” James tensed slightly. He hadn’t thought about Mayra in so long, and didn’t like the idea of running into her now, and having to explain how he had been pining for Nassella the entire time he was with her… “It hurt less to convince myself that you didn’t want me,” Nassella continued, “that you loved someone else. It wasn’t possible to have you, so I… I focused on Solas, and made myself think he was who I wanted…” She let out a long sigh. “But I should have realized I didn’t want him, not like how I wanted you.” James opened his eyes to find her staring at him. “If I really loved Solas, it would have been easy to let you go. It wouldn’t have hurt not having you.”

Despite his months of denying any thought that Nassella might love him, James believed her now. She had no reason to lie, and he was done fighting his feelings. “What will you tell him?” James asked. “When he asks about… us?”

Us. Them… They were together. Almost unbelievably, he found himself holding, _kissing_ , this woman he thought he’d never have…

A tears slipped out of Nassella’s eye. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “He’s gone. After the battle he just disappeared.” She sniffed. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

James frowned, and for the first time since he woke felt angry. Nassella might love him more, but James knew she must still love Solas in a way. “Why would he do that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I should have seen it coming though… He’d always been so… distant. And then breaking it off with me…” She closed her eyes. “I don’t think he ever loved me.”

And though James hated to admit anything positive about Solas, he shook his head and said, “He loved you Ness. Very much.”

She opened her eyes and smiled softly. “It doesn’t matter now,” she murmured, easing her lips closer to his again. “Because this… _you…_ feels more right than anything else I’ve ever felt.”

James knew what she meant. He’d loved before… but never like this. Never in a way that felt like he would be empty, less than himself, without her. Nassella… filled a hole he hadn’t even realized was there.

He kissed her again, and once more lost track of the time, his existence shrinking to nothing but her lips on his, her hand in his hair, and the warm, soft feel of her body under his wandering hand. She gasped and moaned sweetly as he pulled on her lips, her reactions teaching him how she liked to be kissed, what movements gave her pleasure, which made her smile, which made _him_ ache…

He would have gladly kissed her for the rest of the day. But they were interrupted, once more, by the loud clang of the door slamming open. They were slower to pull away from each other, and there was no hiding the way they were pressed close to each other, hands and lips tangled together.

James turned toward the intruders, his body flushing when he found Bull and Dorian standing by the open door, both men grinning ear to ear.

James groaned and covered his eyes, shifting more to be sure neither could see his still semi-hard cock under the blanket. Nassella laughed softly, and when James peaked through his fingers found her sitting up and hovering over his body, her lips pink and swollen from their embrace.

“Well, it’s about time!” Dorian exclaimed. Bull chuckled.

“No kidding,” the Qunari rumbled. “We were already planning our intervention if you didn’t figure it out.”

James watched Nassella’s grin fall slightly. She glowered at their visitors. “You knew!?” she exclaimed.

“Of course we knew,” Bull said gruffly, crossing his arms. “Though I’ll admit you two managed to keep it hidden longer than I expected.”

“We had bets and everything!” Dorian added. “Though… we decided to drop that particular wager after your little… tiff with the dragon,” he said, waving his hand vaguely toward James’s body. “It didn’t seem quite appropriate anymore.”

“It was never appropriate!” Nassella cried, and James realized she was actually getting angry. “Why didn’t anyone tell us?!”

The two men at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. “We figured you would work it out on your own,” Bull offered quietly.

Nassella calmed a little, then let out a long breath. “I suppose we should have,” she mumbled, half to herself.

James reached for her hand, and smiled when she glanced toward him. “It’s worked out now.”

She grinned back. ‘Yes, it is.”

Dorian clapped his hands together, walking further into the room. “Wonderful! Now, Nassella, we have been sent by Josephine to fetch you for the celebration.”

Her frown returned. “I already told her I’m not celebrating. They don’t need me—“

“Yes, but that was before your dear warrior here woke up. Now that it appears James is alive and well, your presence is required elsewhere. Can’t have any rumors started that you fell into the Fade again.”

Nassella was turning red. “They don’t need me!” she persisted. “And I’m not leaving James again.”

James loved her for her stubbornness, and her devotion. But he could also see that Dorian had a point; she was the Inquisitor, after all. He couldn’t selfishly keep her to himself, much as he wanted to.

“I’m fine, Ness,” he told her gently, drawing her green gaze. “You should go and make an appearance. I… kind of want to get some more rest anyway.”

She frowned. “Are you sure? I… I don’t want to lose you again…” She was still afraid, still thought that if he slept, he might not come back.

“I’m sure,” James insisted. Something told him that… everything would be alright.

Nassella hesitated a moment longer, then closed her eyes and let out a low groan. “Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll… make a short appearance.”

Dorian grinned. “Splendid!” He turned back to Bull. “It seems our skins are saved for one more day.”

James laughed, eyes falling softly on Nassella, who still looked angry. He squeezed her hand. “It will just be a few hours,” he told her quietly. “Then you can come back to my side.” He brought his lips to her ear. “And we can make out some more.”

She finally laughed, then leaned down to take his lips in a last kiss. She rested her forehead against his when she pulled away. “And then I’ll never leave it again.”


	116. You Raise Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is poorly proofread, but I wanted to get it out there.

_You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains_  
_You raise me up to walk on stormy seas_  
_I am strong when I am on your shoulders_  
_You raise me up to more than I can be_

 

* * *

 

Cullen walked up the stairs to his rooms, careful to keep the tray he was carrying level, so that the bowls and mugs of food and drink didn’t spill. He wanted to make sure Naomi got as much sustenance as possible, knowing she had not eaten in days. She had gone ahead to bathe while Cullen found the food, as she was also still covered with the grime of travel and the battle.

He smiled to himself as he reached the last flight, thinking of how he had needed to drag Naomi from James’s side. She had been so put out by it, but Cullen couldn’t blame the man, considering the looks that Cullen had seen passing between James and Nassella.

Cullen knew Nassella loved James – she had told him as much – and he had started to suspect James loved her back. The looks confirmed it. James had nearly died. It was no surprise to Cullen that Nassella was wasting no time telling him how she felt.

Naomi just couldn’t see it. She was too overwhelmed with the joy that he was alive to notice anything else. But Cullen had to admit that he was glad to have her to himself. They had been moving in separate directions ever since James woke up, and Cullen was still waiting to properly welcome her back. But now they were finally going to be alone, and he was trying to lay out plans.

He wanted to propose to Naomi as soon as possible, but still didn’t know how he should ask her. James had suggested that he should make some sort of plan, do something romantic. But Cullen hadn’t had the time or the energy to come up with something. And now he wasn’t sure it mattered. He just wanted to tell Naomi how much he loved her, and that he wanted to be with her forever.

All of that could wait, however, at least until she had gotten some food in her. Cullen reached the door and entered their rooms. She wasn’t in the front room, but he could hear the slight sloshing of water from the wash closet as he brought the tray to a table. He grabbed a small loaf of bread from a basket and settled into a chair, eating the warm loaf while he waited. He knew she would finish quicker if he didn’t distract her by going inside, even if he wanted to.

Instead he just sat, and enjoyed his bread, and allowed his body to calm for the first time in days. Popping the last bite into his mouth he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and smiled.

Naomi was alive and back safely in Skyhold, the Breach was closed, and Corypheus was destroyed. For the first time in months, Cullen actually felt as if he could relax, and just enjoy time with his love, and with his friends, the shadow of being attacked gone. He was free of pain, warm, enjoying good food…

Everything seemed to be working out. Part of him was suspicious of his good fortune, that he wasn’t hurting or fighting, but he tried to ignore those pessimistic thoughts. After the pain and heartache of the last decade, he finally felt happy, and for once in his life he just wanted to accept that happiness with no hesitation or suspicion.

A door opened, and when Cullen opened his eyes he found Naomi approaching him with a smile. She was removing her hair from a towel wrapped around her head, leaning slightly to the side so she could squeeze out the water. She ran her fingers through the strands until they laid somewhat flat against her chest, water dripping from her hair into the fabric of her robe.

The fabric of the clothing was thin, one of the things Josephine had left in the rooms when they were furnished. Cullen doubted it was something Naomi would have picked out on her own, but he was glad she wore it now. He ached looking at her. She was so beautiful, with her skin flushed pink from the bath and that robe swinging with the movement of her curves. He could see that her nipples were peaked and pressing against the damp fabric, and he realized how easy it would be to untie that robe and slip it off her shoulders.

But as she got close enough to sit with him at the table, he could also see her injuries more clearly. Bruises were scattered across her forearms, along with those that were already healing on her jaw and neck. And of course the amulet was still there, healed into her chest just above her breasts.

There was still so much pain. But Cullen hoped that now, he could make sure she felt nothing but happiness.

Naomi dropped her eyes to the food and smiled brighter. “Thanks for getting this,” she said, putting down her towel and reaching for a plate piled meat and potato pie. “I didn’t realize how hungry I really was until I was in the bath.”

“Of course,” Cullen answered, reaching for more bread. “I know how hungry one can get after a battle.”

“It doesn’t help that I was sleeping for another day and a half,” she responded, shoveling a bit into her mouth. She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh, swallowing and taking another bite. “I won’t complain about that thought,” she added quietly, chewing more slowly. “I’d have stayed in the Fade another day and a half to make sure James came back.”

Cullen fiddled with his bread. “What happened?” he asked her quietly. “I’ve only received bits of information from the others.”

Naomi lowered her fork. “Do you want to hear everything? From the beginning?”

“Yes,” Cullen said with a nod.

Naomi told him about leaving the horses in Haven and approaching the Breach on foot, though she panicked slightly when she realized she didn’t know where Liberty was. Cullen reassured her the horse was safe in Skyhold, and so she returned to describing the battle. She told him about the demons that were pulled through the ever increasing Breach, about reaching the Temple where Corypheus was waiting for them, and then, to Cullen’s dismay, about the Temple rising into the sky, about how she hadn’t been sure that they would be able to come down alive, no matter what…

She told him about fighting, and even though it was days past he could sense her fear. She admitted she had hesitated, felt unhelpful. She turned the ring on her left hand around the finger while she talked. It was the one thing that had made her feel useful, she said, because it had given the mages a better chance.

Corypheus had still been nearly untouchable. But Naomi had finally realized she could use the mana in her ring for more than just fuel for the mages. She used her newfound abilities to knock the magister down and give the warriors their chance to hit the monster. It worked at first, but of course Corypheus was too cunning for that.

She grew quieter when she told him about the dragon. How it had fallen from the sky with Morrigan, desotryed the ground below their feet and separated them. Cullen started to panic, even though she was returned and safe, thinking about how she had been left to drift alone. But that panic was slowly replaced with awe as she told him how she had used the remaining mana in the ring to keep the dragon from reaching Nassella. She had saved the Inquisitor, and exhausted herself entirely to keep her friend safe.

She looked up then, a few tears in her eyes. “I don’t remember anything after that,” she whispered. “I fell unconscious and didn’t wake until we were on the ground.” She took a deep breath, wiping at her cheek. “But Nassella did it, somehow… she stopped Corypheus. After James killed the dragon and… and nearly died himself…” She closed her eyes. “But he’s ok now… I just need to remember that.”

Cullen reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. “Because of you,” he said gently.

She smiled a little, but then shook her head. “He might have woken up on his own,” She whispered. But she gripped him back, and he could feel that she was shaking.

“He is alright, Naomi,” Cullen murmured, sliding his chair closer to hers. “It’s over. He will live.”

“I know,” she replied quietly. She let out a sigh. “And I’m proud of him... I can be happy about that.”

Cullen smiled back, pride welling up through his chest. “You should be proud too Naomi. You fought at everyone’s side, and you saved the Inquisitor. We would not be celebrating without you.”

Red blossomed across her face. “I just did what everyone else does every day,” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “Not everyone could have done what you did.”

She was clearly embarrassed, and looked down at her hands, though he could see that she was fighting a smile. “I’d rather not have to do it again, it if can be helped.”

Cullen lifted her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. She looked up and smirked. “I believe that can be arranged,” he said. “I’d like to think we have filled our quota of crazy monsters set on destroying the world for the age.”

She laughed brightly at that, though she shook her head. “From what I’ve learned of this place, that might be a tall order to fill.”

“Well, we can hope,” Cullen said with a smile.

“Yes, we can hope,” she responded.

She returned to her food and Cullen watched her, still smiling. He knew how dangerous Thedas could be, and how hard it was for Naomi to adjust to those dangers. But he loved her, and the optimism she continued to have that someday she would have a better, safer life.  He was determined to give it to her, to make her happy for the rest of their days…

He needed to ask her soon, come up with some sort of plan. He wanted her to know that he was planning on spending his life with her.

Naomi finished her pie and pushed her empty plate away. She reached for a mug and took a long drink of water, finishing with a contented sigh. “Maker, that was good.”

Cullen laughed. When she looked at him with surprise, he considered that she had not realized what she say. “You said _Maker,_ not God,” he chuckled.

A slow smile spread across her face, and then she let out a long laugh herself. “What can I say,” she said with a shrug as she calmed. “You’ve finally rubbed off on me.”

“I didn’t think I said it _that_ much,” Cullen protested.

Naomi raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, you do liefje.”

Cullen chuckled again, and leaned over to kiss her, realizing he had given her little more than a peck on the lips since she woke up. She reached for his neck and leaned into him with a sigh, the smile on her lips falling away as their kiss deepened. Cullen grabbed her waist and tried to pull her closer, finding that he was quickly heating and getting turned on.

“I was so afraid you weren’t coming back,” he whispered into their kiss when he pulled back for a breath. He clutched her tighter and met her bright blue-green gaze. “I just watched the Breach growing, knowing you were there, and feeling useless because I could do nothing.”

Naomi looked at him so compassionately that his throat ached. She stroked at his jaw, her eyes wandering over his face. “I wished you were there too.” She placed another kiss on his lips, brushing over his scar. “But like you said, it’s over now. I’m alright.”

Yes. It _was_ over, and she was back in his arms…

He kissed her earnestly once more, and encouraged her to stand. She followed him with a small moan, and stumbled slightly into her chair as he attempted to guide her back toward their bedroom. He steadied her with a hand placed on the small of her back and pulled away with a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so eager.”

She giggled and stepped around the chair. “Oh no, you should be as eager as you want,” she teased, walking slowly toward the bedroom. Cullen watched her backside as it swung enticingly beneath her robe, and was entirely unprepared when the fabric fell away entirely. Cullen’s mouth dropped open and his cock twitched as he watched her retreat, drinking in the sight of her bare ass moving with each step. She stopped in the doorway and chuckled. “Aren’t you coming?”

He looked to her face. She was glancing at him over her shoulder, a small, sexy grin curling up the corners of her lips. She turned more to the side and Cullen’s eyes dropped to her breasts, where he could see her nipples were still peaked in the cooler air.

Quickly Cullen removed his shirt and kicked off his boots. She had disappeared into the bedroom once the fabric he was pulling off no longer covered his face, and he moved to join her, untying the front of his breeches along the way. He passed through the door in time to see her crawling on their bed, giving him a splendid, arousing peak at the folds between her legs. She settled on her side, and watched him undress while chewing on her bottom lip, a small moan escaping her lips when he freed his cock and kicked his pants off his feet.

He stepped up to the bed and crawled after her, his eyes wandering over her curves as she rolled to her back, tyring not to get too upset by the additional bruises that were now revealed scattered across her body. He positioned himself between her spreading legs and dipped his head down when he reached her thighs. He kissed along the sensitive skin, smiling when she jerked slightly at the scratch of the scruff covering his jaw.

“I think you need to shave,” she said through a giggle as he kissed further up.

Cullen settled himself on his stomach and ran his hand up her leg. “You don’t like my beard?” he murmured while nipping his way toward her folds.

She gasped softly when he slipped his fingers into her heat, and squirmed when his lips joined them. “It just… tickles,” she said, then sighed when he ran his tongue over her clit, his beard forgotten.

He had missed the taste of her, and he spent some time reacquainting himself with the sweet arousal pulsing from her entrance, and relished the way she moaned at his touch. But when he felt her quaking and thrusting against him, he stopped, not wanting her to come too quickly.

Cullen eased his way from her swollen, sensitive folds and kissed up the rest of her body. He brushed his lips over the curve of her hips, and the sensitive skin below her breasts, before seeking the soft mounds of flesh themselves. He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked and teased the pearled nub with his tongue and lips, seeing to the other with his fingers, until she was once again moaning and gasping and pressing into him.

“Please, Cullen, stop teasing me,” she whined when he straddled one of her legs and started to rub his aching cock against her thigh. “Please I… I just want you to fuck me!”

Pleasure shot through Cullen’s body at her crude words, and he wasted no more time working his way to her mouth, taking one, brief moment to press his lips against the amulet fused into her chest. When his lips found hers he breathed deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. He centered the tip of his cock with her entrance, and pushed himself inside with one long, slow thrust.

He savored the feel of her opening around him, gasped with her as he filled her. It was just as sweet as the first time, as sweet as every time they made love after that. He wanted everything she could give him, and so he spread her legs wide with his own, burying himself deeply inside of her.

“I love you Naomi,” he whispered, withdrawing slightly and pushing back in, ensuring she was ready for him. She wrapped her legs around his and sighed, seeking his lips with hers.

“I love you Cullen.”

When she had adjusted around his entire length he started to move, slowly increasing his speed and the strength of his thrusts, moving hard and deep, Naomi gasping as his pace turned frantic, her eyes locked with his...

He hadn’t known if he would ever be with her again, if he would ever feel her wrapped hot and tight around his cock again.

He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of her, pressing her into the bed so that every bit of his body that could touch hers was. Naomi buried her hand in his hair and curled her fingers along his scalp, grasping his arm with the other. She brushed her lips along his shoulder, panting in time with the snap of his hips. Cullen was panting with her, grinding into her sex as quickly and as deep as he could, the muscles in his body winding tight with pleasure.

He was approaching his climax, and wished he could last longer, but he was too excited to have her back. He moved his lips to her neck and started to kiss and suck on the spot that made her moan, that pushed her to the edge.

She did, her sex clenching even tighter around his cock. Cullen groaned and pounded harder, sliding along her slick walls with everything he could until she was arching off the bed and groaning his name.

“Yes, Cullen… jes.. je… ja, ja… daar. Daar!”

She came and Cullen followed her, pushed over the edge when she clamped tight around his cock and cried out with pleasure. He pumped several more times into her heat, pleasure pulsing through his body every time she groaned in response, working himself slowly back down until he was spent, his body trembling against hers.

He pulled himself away after another moment and rolled to lay by her side. Neither of them said anything, and Cullen just let himself soak in the glow that was left after making love, overwhelmed with happiness that grew with every moment they were together. And relief, knowing that for the first time in years, they were safe.

Naomi moved first, and he felt the bed shift as she sat up. Her hand found his arm and gently grazed over his skin. Cullen opened his eyes and smiled at her, pleased to see her face still flushed a little from exertion, and the mark he had left on her neck.

“I should put myself in danger more often,” she said with a grin. “If you’ll do that afterwards.”

Cullen shook his head, though a slow grin crossed his face. “I think you _shouldn’t_ do that, and I’ll just fuck you like that anyway.” But he frowned the moment the words left his mouth, afraid it was too much…

But Naomi laughed, and he relaxed. “I won’t ever object to getting fucked like that by you.”

Cullen reached for her hand and smiled. “Good. Because I intend to make sure you are very, very satisfied for a long, long time.”

Forever, if she would let him.

Naomi laughed and looked away, covering her face with her free hands. Cullen chuckled, pleased that he could still make her blush. She kept her eyes averted a moment longer as she composed herself, and he saw the way her eyes widened when she looked at something behind him.

“Why do you have my journal up here?” she asked.

Cullen sat up and looked to the table sitting beside the bed. He reached for the book and handed it over to her. “I retrieved it from the undercroft, in case…” He swallowed the rest of his words, unable to finish the thought.

Naomi ran her hand over the cover. “Did you read it?” she asked, glancing back toward him.

“No.”

She nodded, then let out a long sigh. “I should have told you when you first returned from the Arbor Wilds. I’ve discovered something important, but I thought we would have more time to talk about it.”

Cullen frowned. “Tell me what?”

Naomi sighed again, then flipped open the book to a page covered in drawings. “Lyrium is alive,” she told him. “Not only the lyrium that Templars take, but it’s also alive _inside_ of Templar’s bodies.” She turned the book and showed him a page. “I’ll show you with the microscope later, but I found the live lyrium inside a Templar’s blood, and when I put it on a gelatin plate, it _grew._ ”

Cullen’s stomach turned. “That’s… horrible.”

Naomi nodded, turning to another page. “But it’s more than that. The lyrium… it grows into your… into your brain…” She held out a page to him and Cullen took the journal.

Her notes were in English, but the pictures were enough for him to see, and to understand. Tendrils of lyrium grew among the swirling mass of brain tissue…

His stomach flopped again, more violently this time. He swallowed thickly, and suddenly felt as if he was getting a headache. “How did you discover this?”

“Alec died,” she said quietly. “And, with help, I got a surgeon to perform an autopsy… and that’ what we found.”

Cullen raised a hand to his own head. “Do you think it’s still in me?” he asked, his voice a little hollow.

Naomi was silent for a moment. “I can’t know for sure until I look at your blood, but… but I think it must be.”

He really was going to be sick. Cullen stared at her drawing, horrified to think that something alive was growing inside his head. “This… this can’t be.” He felt… dirty, violated. He was once again let down by the Order he had joined so he could help people. The lyrium he had taken so he could do just that was growing inside of him…

“I’m sorry Cullen,” Naomi whispered, moving herself closer. “I’m going to find a way to get it out of you, out of every Templar if they want it. I’m sure something must kill it. And it’s been so long since you last took lyrium. It won’t kill you like it killed Alec.”

Cullen hadn’t even considered _that_ , but now he realized what could still happen to him. Alec had been denied lyrium and it had killed him. Yes, it had been nearly two years for Cullen, but what if something changed…?

Would it be better to take it again? At least then he knew he would live.

But what kind of life would it be? Cullen knew what he was like on lyrium, what the older Templars became. He was a shell of himself when he was taking it. He couldn’t hope to be with Naomi like that…

“Cullen, Cullen it’s ok,” Naomi was saying. “You are going to be ok, I promise.”

He looked up to her, and through the horror and disgust coursing through his body felt a spark of hope. He believed her. He had seen what she had accomplished in such a short amount of time, what she had already discovered. With her by his side, he was sure he would be alright.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Tonight he would ask her to be his. That night he could sleep easy, despite this new knowledge of lyrium, knowing they would be together.

“Thank you for telling me,” he told her, reaching to stroke her face. “And thank you for always helping me.”

She nodded and smiled. “Of course, Cullen. I love you.”

She would say yes. He had to believe that.

Then she leaned forward and kissed him, the tender press of her lips against his even further reassurance that he was making the right decision. She was everything he had ever wanted: not just kind and intelligent and brave, but beautiful and sexy…

She slipped her tongue between his lips and encouraged him back to the bed. Cullen fell back willingly and smiled when she covered his body with hers, opening himself to her advances. “I know we should go join the celebrations,” she whispered, sliding her hands over his stomach and chest. She sucked a little on his bottom lip and took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to leave yet.” She sighed as he ran his hand over her back and gripped her ass, pulling her leg over his waist.

“They will be there all night,” Cullen responded, brushing his lips over hers. He kneaded at her backside, his body already starting to buzz with pleasure. “And I’m not done with you yet either.”

She chuckled and dove into their embrace.

 

* * *

 

Naomi couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she wandered through Skyhold with Cullen. She was still on a high from making love, her body and mind jumping and sparking with the memories of Cullen’s hands and mouth on her body, of the press of him inside of her. She could have stayed in their room for the rest of the night, unwinding from the past few days, reassuring herself again and again that she was alive, that the battle was over, that Cullen was with her…

But there were others she wanted to see as well, since she had not been conscious for the return to Skyhold. And Cullen needed to make some sort of appearance. But after having sex for the second time they had felt ready to face the others, satisfied for the moment with the time they had spent together. Still, Naomi smiled when she thought about that night, when they would return once again to their rooms alone. She would be ready by then for so much more of him.

For now it was about the others, so they worked their way around the great hall, sometimes hand in hand conversing with the same person, other times splitting up when their attention was pulled in two directions. But they always found their way back together, and when they had seen everyone, they moved outside, walking hand and hand along the ramparts.

Naomi smiled because she had found her friends alive and happy, drinking and celebrating with the rest of the Inquisition. Corypheus was gone and so they moved on, looked ahead to the better things that were yet to come. Naomi was inspired by their resilience, and hoped she could do the same. She already felt herself growing lighter being beside Cullen.

Seeing the door leading to where James was healing in the courtyard below sobered Naomi quickly, however, and she stopped Cullen from pulling her ahead. “We should go see James,” she said. “I want to make sure he is still doing alright.” Despite her happiness, she couldn’t forget how painful the last few days had been, and that James was still injured.

But Cullen shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s the best thing to do right now.”

“Why?” Naomi asked, already feeling guilty for how long she had been away from her brother’s side.

“I imagine he doesn’t want to see you right now,” Cullen said, and Naomi would have been angry if she didn’t notice the small, knowing smile that was spreading across his face.

Confused, Naomi frowned. “Why wouldn’t he want to see me?”

Cullen laughed. “I’m sure he wants some time alone with Nassella. She looked like she wanted to… jump on him earlier.”

Naomi’s mouth dropped open, and as she realized what Cullen was insinuating, started to smile. “You think?” she asked excitedly. “I know James wanted to say something to her… You think he did?”

Cullen was smiling. “Or she did. Either way, I think they have finally admitted their feelings to each other.”

Naomi’s entire chest was glowing, and she found herself starting to bounce slightly on her feet, smiling as she looked down at the door to her brother’s sick room. She itched to know if Cullen was right, but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate to try and find out now, in case they were…

She blushed a little, realizing what they were likely doing, or trying to do, if they had indeed admitted their feelings. After everything that had happened, after everything they had kept bottled up, it made sense that they would want to be alone.

So she looked away and smiled at Cullen. “I’m glad they’ve finally talked,” she said, squeezing his hand. “It was one of the things I knew he would regret, if everything had turned out differently…”

Cullen nodded. “She would have as well.” He started walking again. “But they seem to have acknowledged their attraction for each other.”

Naomi found herself smiling the rest of the walk along the ramparts, happy to know her brother and her best friend were finally acting on their feelings. It had hurt to keep their secrets, to know how they felt for each other, and unwilling and unable to betray their trust by interfering…

She had been prepared to change that, after the battle. If James had survived and still insisted on keeping his love to himself, she would have said something, and Naomi was ecstatic to know that now she didn’t have to.

Everything seemed to be looking up, and Naomi almost felt like skipping next to Cullen as they walked. The darkness that had been over her head for years was now lifted, and though she knew Thedas was far from safe, it was at least saved, and she was actually hopeful that she could lead some sort of normal life. Her friends and her family were alive, Cullen was by her side, and the hole in the sky was healed. She looked up at the ribbon of winding green light in the sky, the only thing that remained of the once chaotic heavens, and thanked God and the Maker and everyone who had worked to see it closed, that it was gone.

“It’s almost pretty,” she mused to Cullen was they reached the end of the battlements. Cullen pulled them to a stop along the wall and Naomi leaned against the rampart. He glanced up at the sky with her, and nodded.

“In a way, yes it is.”

“On Earth we had lights like that,” Naomi said. She smiled a little. “They were only in the far north or south though. I knew they were there because of pictures, but I had never seen them myself. It was always a dream of mine…” She let out a small sigh. “I know these were created because of the Breach, but it’s still nice to get to see them. They’re like... hope. That through all the pain and sorrow that the Breach brought, there can still be beauty on the other side.”

There was so much she had lost when she came to Thedas, so many things she would never get to see. But she finally felt as if she could accept that. Thadas was her new home, and there was plenty in this new world to do and see, new dreams to make and pursue. Her life, changed as it was, would go on.

Cullen had not responded, and it wasn’t until several seconds had passed that she realized his hand was gripping hers almost uncomfortably tight, and that it was starting to grow damp with sweat. She glanced toward him, afraid he was coming down with a headache, and found him staring at her, his golden eyes dark and intense. She froze, a little unsure what to do or say with him looking at her so intently. But when her eyes met his he softened, and with a small nod he took her other hand, encouraging her to face him.

He reached for her left hand and gently ran his fingers over hers. He brushed over the ring on her finger, and then gently pulled the band of metal off of her body.

Naomi’s heart started to thump more quickly in her chest. It wasn’t because of the amulet, as there had not been enough time for her to really feel the effects of the extra mana. And she wasn’t afraid – Cullen would never do anything to harm her. No, there was something in his eyes that made her… excited, and nervous.

And then he murmured, “I want to make sure I do this right,” as he slipped her ring into a pocket, and Naomi’s heart raced.

Then he looked into her eyes and she couldn’t breathe.

“Naomi, I love you,” Cullen said, his hands clenched tightly around hers. He frowned slightly, then shook his head. “You know that already, of course, but I want… I want to be sure you understand just how much…”

He looked down and started fumbling in another pocket. Naomi watched him, unable to do anything but clutch him back and try to breathe…

He withdrew his hand, curled into a tight fist. His eyes found hers again, and she couldn’t look away from his bright, serious, hopeful gaze. “Meeting you was… was the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he murmured, his voice shaking slightly, to match the slight tremor in his grip. “You make me better. You make me want to _be_ even better. I’m happier with you than I have ever been, and I know, by the Maker’s grace, that I make you happy as well…” He was growing a little pink. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” He cleared his throat and glanced away, toward the hand still wrapped tightly around whatever he had pulled from his pocket. “And I want to make sure I never have to find out.”

After his nervous speech, Naomi knew what he was going to do next. But it was still a surprise when she found Cullen kneeling down on one knee.

Speechless, Naomi watched as Cullen held out what he had been holding, and smiled.

“Marry me,” he murmured, his eyes now filled with warmth and love, and the smallest hint of uncertainty.

It was a ring. Naomi could see it was a ring. However, it still took several seconds for her mind to process what she was looking at, what she had heard, and what Cullen was asking…

_Marry me._

He wanted to marry her. He wanted to be her husband. He wanted her to be his wife…

She was having a hard time seeing, as her eyes filled with tears. _Marry him._ It was what she wanted, _he_ was what she wanted. She had known since the first time she’d said _I love you_ that she would gladly marry him…

But a traitorous instinct pulled back, still afraid, still thinking after all this time that somehow she could not have him. But the battle was over. She was alive. The future was bright. She had overcome so many fears, and nothing was holding her back anymore…

_Marry him!_

“Yes,” she breathed, her entire body starting to shake.

Cullen’s smile grew, and Naomi thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She smiled back as he slipped the new ring he was holding back on her finger, and she felt the little bit of mana that had pooled in her chest flow into the new gems, sparkling in a hodge-podge of green and blue on her left hand.

It was perfect.

And it meant she and Cullen were getting married…

Cullen stood, still smiling and reached to stroke her face. “Did I do this right?” he asked. “I... thought maybe I should have more of a plan, but I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Naomi laughed, a few of the tears that had pooled in her eyes spilling down her cheeks. “Of course it was right!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Everything is perfect.” She buried her nose in his neck and smiled. He was going to be her husband. This handsome, kind, brave, wonderful man…

How could she ever fear her future with him at her side? Naomi started to cry, realizing just how scared she had been, how two simple words scattered the remaining apprehension and fear from her mind. She could survive on her own, but she felt as if she could do anything with Cullen.

“Why are you crying?” Cullen asked, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against hers. Naomi sniffed, and reached up to wipe away the water from her face, smiling through her tears.

“I’m just happy,” she said. “And I… I can’t believe this is happening…”

Cullen smiled back, his hands on her face and wrapped around her waist. Naomi’s body flushed, and her tears dried as his warm breath fell across her face, and he gently pushed her back against the ramparts. “I should have asked you weeks ago,” he murmured. “Months even. I must have known from the moment I said ‘I love you’… from the moment we kissed, that I wanted to marry you.” His mouth was brushing against hers, and Naomi couldn’t help but grin against his own up-turned lips. She buried her hand in his hair and started to curl her fingers along his scalp.

“I knew since then too,” she whispered back.

Cullen crashed into her with a kiss, making Naomi gasp. He slipped his tongue between her lips and moved it with hers, pushing her into the stones so that he could rub his body against hers, rutting his hips and running his hands over her curves, and then below her clothes…

Naomi kissed him just as fiercely, tears and fears forgotten as her body responded to his. He might be caring and gentle most often, but he was also the sexiest man she had ever met, and she would never tire of wanting him, of giving into his want of her.

She panted as he pulled back and started running his lips down her neck. One of his hands was under her shirt and kneading her breast, the other getting dangerously close to the inside of her pants. Her core throbbed when he rolled his hips against her thigh, the press of his cock already hard against her.

Naomi scratched her fingers lightly against the skin of his back, where her own hand had pushed underneath his tunic. “We should go to our room,” she gasped as he started to suck on her collarbone. “I think we’ve seen enough of everyone tonight.” She was done with visiting. All she wanted for the rest of the night was Cullen, naked in bed with her.

“My office is closer,” Cullen growled as he released her, slowly. Naomi’s feet fell flat to the ground once more, and she grinned, biting at her bottom lip. Cullen grinned back, his eyes narrowed and dark as he watched her, his hands still pressed against intimate places.

“Well then, lead the way… verloofde…” Naomi frowned. “What do I call you now? My… betrothed?”

Cullen smiled, his gaze losing some of the lustful heat in place of pure love, and a little bit of wonder. “Fiancé,” he said quietly, stepping back and leading her down the ramparts with her arm through his. “I’m your fiancé.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the top. “And you are mine.”

“Fiancé,” Naomi mused with a smile, testing out the feel of the word, her chest squeezing tightly. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this happy. “I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verloofde – fiancé (I think)


	117. Neither Fears for Today nor Worries for Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Guys... guys... there's just the epilogue left...

James leaned back against a wall, hand gripping the pommel of a sword, glaring at the jagged landforms revealed through gaps in swirling mist, and at the twisted form of a deer grazing a few meters away.

He was in the Fade.

In the _fucking_ Fade.

He was supposed to be asleep, dreaming… normally. Not here.

He’ thought at first that he _was_ dreaming, reliving the days he had spent walking with Naomi through this very place as some sort of nightmare. But his dreams were rarely this vivid, and he realized soon enough what was happening.

Something had changed since he was pushed into the Fade while dying. Now, his mind had been drawn back into the Fade with no coaxing when he fell asleep, and he was left to consciously survey this strange, terrible realm that had created the chaos of the past two years.

It was not where he had wanted to end up after spending the previous hour or so kissing Nassella. He’d wanted dreams of her, and what they would do once he was healed. At the very least he had wanted dreamless sleep, time to heal.

Instead he was angrily watching Serenity graze a few meters away. James found nothing serene or comforting in the form of the monstrous spirit. He knew it wasn’t what it was supposed to look like, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Something was obviously wrong with the creature, and he didn’t trust it to keep its distance.

The sword had appeared at his side when he wondered how he would defend himself, should the spirit attack. It was exactly like the sword he used in the waking world, and he found he could move just as easily with it in the Fade. Serenity had watched his experimental maneuvers, large, dark eyes empty and unnerving.

But it had not moved any closer, and so James just stood with his back to a wall and watched it graze with its sharpened teeth. He thought of scaring it off, but was wary about provoking it. And he knew Serenity was important to Naomi, and didn’t want to ruin whatever connection they had…

Though he wasn’t sure that would be such a bad thing, considering what Serenity seemed to have become.

Still, that was something best discussed with Naomi. So James stood uneasily and wondered what he should do. It pissed him off, finding himself in the Fade again. He would’ve been happy to never see the place again, even in a dream. The Fade had only ever brought him fear and pain.

_It saved you._

James growled at the voice, distant and quiet and echoing in his head. It was like the Nightmare in his head again, or Cole reading his thoughts.

 _I don’t care_ , he thought, knowing Serenity would hear him.

But he regretted it immediately. He _did_ care. He hadn’t wanted to die, and if being in the Fade had kept him from slipping away…?

He still hated that he had come back. Wandering through the Fade for a day was one thing, but if this was going to happen every night, he was not going to be happy. At least he knew he could wake up again. That link he had felt appear before with Naomi was still there, a comforting tether that bound him to his body.

He knew who to blame too. Now that he was no longer dying, he could recognize that the bald smudge hovering above him, and that voice, had been Solas. The man had pushed him into the Fade, somehow changed how he dreamed just like he’d done with Naomi, and then disappeared…

_He was trying to help._

James scowled at the spirit, who had moved a foot or so closer while it chewed on the dry grass of the Fade. He didn’t care what Solas had been trying to do. The elf had had no right to change him like this.

Though… if it _had_ saved him, then he really should be thanking the elf.

James closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He didn’t know what to think about Solas. There was so much he didn’t like about the mage, but it wasn’t as if he had ever done anything purposefully malicious. James knew it made no sense to keep blaming Solas for… anything really.

Except breaking Nassella’s heart.

James could be angry about that. Solas had hurt Nassella, made her feel unloved, abandoned her and withdrawn his support when she needed it most. James had seen how upset she had been over losing the other man, how it beat her down and dimmed her light. She needed love, deserved it, and Solas had made her think she had it, just to rip it away.

James would probably blame Solas for that forever, even as he recognized the gift that it had been. If Solas had not broken things off, Nassella might never have acknowledged her stronger feelings for James. And James knew he would have kept his own feelings to himself, still thinking that Solas was who Nassella wanted…

Maybe he should be _thanking_ Solas for breaking Nassella’s heart.

James frowned at the thought and shook his head. He hated this. Hated that Solas made his so angry. Hated that he was forced to think about the other man at all. Hated that his new relationship with Nassella was shadowed by the presence of another man she had loved, if not as strongly as she loved James, and who’s leaving had opened the way for them to come together…

But Solas was gone, and James decided he was done worrying about the elf, done thinking about him. Whatever Solas had or hadn’t done no longer mattered. So what if Solas made him dream in the Fade? He would deal with it. And it was too awkward to think about Solas and what he had meant to Nassella, or felt for Nassella, or done with Nassella…

So he would put Solas out of his mind. He would start anew, go to Nassella as if Solas had never existed, and love her like he had wanted to for so long.

James just wanted to make her happy. He knew how much she hurt after these years of leading and fighting. He wanted to lessen that pain, make her feel safe and wanted and cherished and loved…

James didn’t want to sleep anymore. He wanted to wake up and go back to her, feel her lips pressed against his again. He smiled at the thought. When she returned from the party he was going to kiss her long into the night. And he was going to touch her. He might not be ready to have sex, but with his fingers between her thighs he could still make her come.

James opened his eyes. For all he knew it had been hours since he fell asleep, and he doubted Nassella would spend much time at the party. He would wake up so he was ready when she returned.

He looked at Serenity one last time before he woke. Something about the spirit was… different. Its eyes were a little brighter, and it’s overabundance of legs seemed less spindly somehow.

But James didn’t have the time to consider some spirit in the Fade. There was a woman in the waking world hopefully waiting for him, and James didn’t want to keep her.

 

\-----

 

Nassella was not by his side when James woke up. He looked around the room, disappointed to find it empty.

It was still better than the Fade. James stared at the ceiling with a sigh, the weight of her absence crushing him against the bed. He already missed her so much. Knowing she loved him had changed everything, and he knew he would never be completely satisfied when she was not with him. His heart had been broken for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to feel whole.

He was warm just thinking about her, but it wasn’t until he started to itch that he realized the sudden flush of heat was not entirely to do with Nassella.

His pain was nearly gone, and James sat up, pulling his blanket away from his body. He ran his hand over his stomach, feeling the bumps of several scars, but nothing more. He swung his legs to the side of the cot and stood, feeling a little weak, and very hungry, but otherwise fine.

He had healed.

James laughed, the action leaving no ache in his side, no pain stabbing through his chest. He took a few steps forward and his legs held him up, though he limped slightly because something about his right leg was off.

But there was no pain.

He was healed.

He didn’t have to wait for Nassella. He could _go_ to her, join in the celebration, take her to bed, t _onight_ …

His heart skipped at the thought. He needed her. Needed to go to her. They had spent far too much time apart. He took a step toward the door then paused. He was naked. He needed clothes, and… and a bath. And he needed to eat something. He wasn’t ready to go to Nassella like this, to make love to her.

He smiled as he grabbed the blanket from his cot and wrapped it around his waist, grabbing one of the meat-filled pastries on the tray he had forgotten on the floor. He’d thought it would be days before he was ready to do anything more than kiss her and run his hands over her body. But now they didn’t have to wait. They could have each other that night.

Excitement and nerves jumped through his body as he jogged across Skyhold, ignoring the cold against his bare chest and the people wandering between pockets of celebration outside, eating his food. He needed to hurry, ready himself before Nassella returned for him. He ran himself a cold bath in the bathhouse and quickly cleaned the dirt, blood, and sweat from his body. Once thoroughly clean, he relieved himself and ran to his room. He dug the cleanest clothes he could find from his trunk and slipped them on in place of his blanket. He worked a few tangles from his hair with his fingers as he walked quickly toward the door, intending to run back to his sick room before searching the rest of the fortress.

But when he opened the door he was staring at Cole, his pale blue eyes wide and locked on James.

“She’s in the great hall,” Cole said. “She wants to come see you, but Vivienne and Josephine won’t let her leave.”

James smiled. For once, he was in too good a mood to care about Cole reading his mind. James reached out and slapped Cole on the shoulder. “Thanks man,” he said, then started to run.

He was barely winded when he finally reached the doors leading into the great hall. The pastry he had eaten had curbed the worst of his hunger, and instead of feeling weak after his run, warmth from healing spread through his body. He wasn’t sure where he was getting the energy to heal, but he decided he didn’t care.

He moved to enter the hall, but was slowed by a group of Orlesians. He nearly tripped over one of the women as he attempted to squeeze his way past, and when he reached out to steady her shoulder, she gasped.

“You!” she cried in her Orlesian lilt. “You are ze one who killed the dragon.” Her hand flew out and clutched his forearm. “Ze say you saved the Inquisitor, but were nearly ripped in half as ze beast died.”

James frowned, and his stomach flipped. That last thing he wanted to think about was that dragon.

And he didn’t know how this woman had even found out about it.

“Who told you that?” he asked her.

“Monsieur Tethras!” she purred. “He is teasing the entire court with promises of another serial.” Her hand slid along his arm. “It sounds as if you will feature quite heavily…”

James had heard enough. He pulled his arm free of the woman’s grip and squeezed his way past her into the great hall. Sure enough, he found to his right Varric sitting at his customary table, surrounded by another group of nobles and Inquisition soldiers, spinning some sort of tale.

James approached the dwarf and stood at the edge of the group until Varric finished his story and they started to move on. The Orlesian noble hadn’t been exaggerating; Varric was already embellishing the battle, including James’s encounter with the dragon.

James joined Varric when he was nearly alone. Varric smiled broadly up at him, lifting his tankard in greeting. “James! Good to see you up and about! They said you were awake, but not healing.”

“Well I’m healing now,” James said, leaning against the table. “I hear you’re having fun telling everyone about how I got hurt in the first place.”

Varric beamed. “It’s a good story. You faced that beast and lived. People want to hear about it.”

“I wasn’t almost ripped in half,” James grumbled. He had just been… punctured a little.

“That’s what Bull said,” Varric offered.

James shook his head. “You’re getting your information from Bull? You know how he gets with dragons.”

“Well, he was actually there,” Varric said.

“Yeah, so he should know what actually happened,” James said, moving to sit. “If you’re going to be writing about this, let me tell you—“

“Oh no,” Varric said, holding up his hand, giving James a sly grin. “You have a woman to take to bed. Your side of the story can wait until tomorrow.”

James’s face started to heat. Of course Bull and Dorian couldn’t keep quiet. “What did they tell you?”

“Enough,” Varric said with a smirk. “Now go,” he insisted, raising his tankard and pointing across the room. “Looks like she could use some more rescuing.”

James looked in the direction Varric had indicated, and found Nassella through a gap in the crowd. She was clean and put together, her hair brushed and falling long over one shoulder, fresh leggings and a tight tunic replacing her bloodied armor. James stood slowly, a smile spreading across his lips the longer he watched her.

His concerns about Varric and the lies he had been told fell away, and his embarrassment about what Bull and Dorian had been spreading disappeared. Nassella was beautiful, breathtaking, and James found his heart racing just looking at her like this, for the first time without fear that she would see him, or that Solas or some other onlooker would see his gaze and suspect his feelings were more than just those of a good friend.

Everything was in the open now. He had _kissed_ her. There was no more hiding, no more pining. He could walk across that room and take her in his arms, lift her up and kiss her in front of everybody, declaring once and for all how he felt about her…

But he hesitated to move. Everything was still so new, and that instinct he had pounded into himself to look away, to keep his distance when he felt like this, reared its head. Part of him was still afraid that she did not want him, that their kiss had been another mistake. His mind knew it wasn’t true, that she did love him and that she wanted to be with him, but his heart hesitated, tried to save him from more hurt.

Then Nassella looked in his direction, her eyes pulled to his by chance or divine intervention. A large, bright smile replaced the small, false one she had been wearing for the Orlesian nobles she was talking to, and the last of James’s doubts were chased away.

_She loves me._

His feet moved across the floor as she slipped between her admirers. He took long, somewhat uneven strides to close the distance between them, but it was Nassella’s shorter legs running across the stones and dodging partyers that brought them together. She nearly jumped into his arms, and James lifted her up with a laugh. She was so light, but the arms around his neck were strong and tight, clutching him to her with a ferocity James was not yet accustomed to.

And then she clutched his face and pressed her lips against his, smiling and laughing against his mouth as she gave him an exuberant, messy kiss. He smiled with her, his body shivering even as he flushed warm, losing himself once more in her lips. He kneaded his fingers into her ass, pleased to discover that she had no plans to keep their budding relationship discrete. He thought he heard a distant whistle over the bustle of the crowd, but he ignored it.

He moaned softly when she pulled away, disappointed she was ending their embrace. But her eyes were filled with joy when he looked at her, and he couldn’t stay upset. They had all night to kiss.

They had forever.

“You’re here,” she whispered, wrapping her arms back around his neck. Her eyes wandered over his face, her lips parted slightly in awe. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

 

* * *

 

He was here. In her arms. Not lying injured on some cot in a far corner of the fortress, not dead or dying on a cold battlefield.

James was alive. He was healed.

Nassella hugged him again, tightly, and he hugged her back. It was the most wonderful, comforting hug she had ever felt. An affirmation of life, a reassurance of shared feelings, and a promise that so much more would follow…

She had never held Solas like this. She’d never felt like it was what he wanted, and never had the courage to try. Even with Mahanon she had been more reserved, careful to keep their dalliances private under the watchful eyes of their clan, often at his request.

But with James she felt she could do anything, say anything, and he would not care. She could ask him to the end of the earth and he would follow. He’d already done it.

James had bathed before finding her, but it could not hide his scent from her sensitive nose, and though he looked somewhat diminished after healing, his body still dwarfed hers. Nassella let herself enjoy it, let her own body feel and respond to him pressed against hers. For so long she had denied her attraction to him, that his presence so close to her was now nearly overwhelming. It was as if she was right back in that sick room, kissing him, aching for him...

She was aching now, in the middle of the celebration festivities. Their kiss had sent sparks through her entire body, and she wanted to know what else those lips could make her feel. One of his hands was cupping her ass, keeping her close against him, and she longed to feel him clutching her bare skin. She could feel his muscles moving underneath his tunic, and imagined how they would move while they made love.

And she smiled, because she knew she would find out. So much sooner than she had expected.

“How are you here?” she asked him, peering into his brilliant eyes. She had never looked at them so closely. They were alive, vibrant, glowing in the dim great hall with a light that wasn’t entirely natural. But it didn’t bother her. She soared, knowing she could now look at those eyes as much as she wanted.

James laughed, _laughed_ , and his beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners. “I healed,” he said.

Nassella let out a short laugh of her own. “Well that’s obvious,” she chided, unable to stop smiling. “But… your powers must have come back.”

James nodded. “After I woke up I just… healed. Completely. I didn’t even have to eat anything, and I didn’t get tired.” A small frown flickered across his brows. “I also dreamed in the Fade.”

“Like Naomi?” Nassella asked.

“Yeah. Her spirit thing was there.”

It was somewhat worrisome. Nassella knew he hated the Fade, and dreaming there was not without its dangers. Naomi had learned to navigate them, but James had not…

“Do you want to talk to her about it?” she asked. “I think I saw her pass through a while ago with Cullen. They’re probably on the walls or something.”

James’s face relaxed back into an easy grin. “Not tonight.” His gaze changed, a spark of heat shining through their bright color. “All I want to do is… be with you.”

The pause in his words said more than anything else, and Nassella’s heart beat faster. She was still in his arms, feet lifted off the ground, in the middle of a celebration. A celebration she was _supposed_ to be enjoying. But that was more of the benefit of the rest of the Inquisition than her own, and Nassella decided she had more than served her purpose amongst the revelry. The drinking and comradery would continue in her absence, and Josephine would spin some sort of excuse for her disappearance. She could already hear the whispers spreading around them, and see the onlookers out of the corner of her eyes. It was time to go.

“Do you want to go up to my room?” she asked him, biting at her lip with a grin.

His eyes followed the motion, his own lips parting as he sucked in a deep breath, his chest expanding against hers.

“God yes.”

 

* * *

 

They didn’t quite make it to Nassella’s room.

James followed her through the door that would lead them up the main tower, but before he had even pushed it closed she was scrambling up his body, hauling herself up toward his face. James lifted her as he had done in the hall, sighing softly as she crushed her lips once more against his. He dove into the kiss more fervently now that they were alone, spinning and pinning her against the door. She parted her lips and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers until he was breathless.

He pressed his forehead against hers when he pulled away to catch his breath, his lips numb and his body on fire. He’d forgotten what it was like to kiss someone he loved, to feel his entire body sing with joy and love and lust, unhindered by hesitation or fear or shame. He slid his hands up her body, caressing the slight dip of her waist, wondering at the feel of her under his hands, warm and firm, her ribs expanding with her own elevated breathing.

Everything was better than he could have ever imagined.

She giggled when he rubbed his thumbs over the small mounds of her breasts, her legs wrapped around his waist contracting and urging him even closer. She slid her fingers into his hair and tilted her head to bring their lips back together, more gently this time, though the response in James’s body was no less intense. “I want you,” she murmured, nipping at his bottom lip and rolling her hips against his stomach. “I want to feel you inside me. Now.”

James’s cock surged. He tried to press himself against her, but found her lifted too high against his body. Instead the swell of his crotch brushed teasingly against the door. His fingers twitched against her tunic, itching to strip it from her body.

But they were too exposed, and he could still hear the party on the other side of the door. This was not how it was supposed to be.

“And I still want a bed,” he said, his lips whispering against hers. Her words emboldened him, urged him to say exactly what he wanted. “I want to strip off your clothes, touch every inch of you, without worrying that someone will see.” He kneaded at her flesh, and opened his eyes to peer into hers, finding her pupils blown wide. He pushed forward. “And I want the time to make sure you are completely satisfied…”

He _felt_ her shiver, the tremble transferred from her body to his hands. A low moan emanated from deep in her throat and her panting breaths fell hot against his mouth. “Then take me there,” she breathed. Demanded.

James chuckled and turned, carrying her toward the stairs, and then up. She clung to him and kissed him, pulling his hair from its binding as she ran her fingers through the drying strands. He rose two flights like that, trying to keep his attention on the steps, but constantly pulled inward to her lips pressed against him. Then she started to trail her hot mouth along his jaw and to his ear, whispering to him how much she wanted him, how ready she was to feel him…

She moved her lips to his neck and started to suck. A jolt of electricity shot through James’s body and he nearly tripped on a step, stumbling forward and catching himself on the railing, his other hand gripping Nassella’s ass tightly to keep her from falling as well. She laughed into his neck and nipped him with her teeth. “Careful,” she teased, licking where she had bit him. “You’re usually more sure-footed than this.”

James straightened and continued his ascent, taking two steps at a time. “You’re the one distracting me.” He was also still getting used to his new gait.

She sucked harder with a muffled chuckle and James shivered. He took deep breaths through his nose and increased his pace, kneading her body as he moved, clenching his jaw almost painfully to keep himself focused. But he felt his head going hazy the longer her lips trailed over his neck, his skin growing slick from her attentions. He moaned softly when she started to untie his tunic.

She had opened it entirely and slipped her hands under the fabric to run her hands over his bare chest by the time James reached the top of the tower. He was on fire, worked high and coursing with need from her kisses, and when he finally pushed open the door to her room, giving them the privacy they had been seeking, he immediately turned and pressed her back against the closed door.

He moved quickly, ducking his head to take her lips once more with his. He pushed his way into her mouth with his tongue and hooked her legs firmly around his waist. Nassella moaned as his tongue tangled with hers and pushed his opened tunic off his shoulders. James shrugged the garment off and reached for her own, tugging and fumbling with the clasps holding the shirt on her body. Her fingers joined his and soon her tunic was opened down the front, revealing more and more of her body to him.

Nassella pulled her arms from the tunic and let it fall to the ground. James slid his hands up her bare waist, pulling back from her mouth so he could look down, and see her for the first time.

She was perfect, tanned skin pulled tight over hard, lean muscles, her breasts small triangular points with hard, dark nipples extending up toward his gaze. Begging to be touched. To be sucked.

James glanced at her face and smiled, finding her watching him with the smallest frown on her face. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. And she was _his._

She grinned, her frown smoothing. She bit at her lip as her eyes fell to his own bare chest. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

James laughed and kissed her, moving his hands up to cup her breasts. His hands dwarfed them as he kneaded and pulled on her pearled nipples, shivers falling down his spine as she clutched at a clump of his hair. He moved his lips down the line of her neck, brushing kisses over her clavicle and down her chest. He cupped her backside and urged her higher against the door, so that he could take one of her tempting nipples in his mouth.

He hummed with pleasure as he ran his tongue over the hard nub, breathing in deeply the faint, clean scent of her skin. She let out a sigh and ran her fingers along his scalp, pulling him closer. James sucked until she started to squirm into him, and when he bit lightly she whimpered.

He was hard and ready for her, and needed to know how ready she was for him. James moved his hands to the front of her pants, and started pulling on the ties so he could get his fingers between her legs…

Nassella laughed, bright and beautiful above his head. “What happened to the bed?” she asked. James stopped moving and looked up at her. She raised her eyebrows slightly, beckoning him. “Not that I mind… I’ve always enjoyed having sex against trees. This isn’t so different.”

James wanted to have her like this. Badly.

But he _had_ insisted on the bed.

“You’re right,” he said, stepping away from the door and lowering her reluctantly to the floor, already missing the feel of her warm skin pressed against his. “We can wait a couple more minutes to get there.”

Nassella’s eyes lowered to the obvious bulge in his pants as his cock ached and strained to feel her. Her tongue flicked over her lips, and her chest expanded with a deep breath. “Let’s make it one minute.”

They climbed the last set of stairs, Nassella rushing ahead with exuberant steps. And when James stepped into her quarters, dimly lit by candles and a roaring fire, he found her already stripping from her breeches. He watched with racing heart and stalled breaths as she bent down and slipped the tight clothing from her legs, his eyes wandering over the taut lines of her ass. She was so deceivingly strong for her size, and everything about her naked body radiated strength. She stood gracefully and stepped out of the pants, turning back toward him with a smile.

James’s eyes fell on the thin patch of dark hair at the apex of her legs, and his cock pulsed. He needed to know what she felt like between them, how wet and hot and deliciously aroused she must be…

It was a miracle, finding her naked in front of him. And she was infinitely more stunning than he could have ever imagined.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

She grinned. “Now you,” she said, her eyes trained on his crotch.

James watched her as he brought his hands to his breeches and worked off his shoes, excitement rising at the way her lips parted as he opened the front, pleasure shooting through him as her tongue flicked across her lips when he eased them down his hips.

His cock sprang free, twitching slightly in the cooler air. Nassella inhaled sharply, and her wide, dark eyes drinking in the sight of him had his body sparking with anticipation.

He kicked off the clothing and stepped toward her. Her eyes lifted to his and he bent slightly at the knees to lift her up. His cock dragged along her body as he settled her back around his waist, and it continued to brush along her ass and spread legs as it strained upward.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he finally started walking them toward the bed.

She laughed, her lips nipping at his, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Yes.” She squirmed, her body hot and smooth against his. “Every inch of you.”

He crushed his lips against hers, and by the time he lowered her down they were desperately kissing each other, tugging on lips and stroking their tongues together with needy, forceful manipulations. James’s body was buzzing as he slid her along the blankets until they were centered on the bed. He hovered above her, his length swinging down between them, teasing him as it brushed against her body. She spread her legs and lifted her hips up into his, moaning softly when the tip of his cock settled against her sex.

James slid a hand down her waist, along her hip, then over her leg to finally, _finally_ feel her. He worked his fingers between her folds, groaning into their kiss at how wet she was. He curled his fingers along her slick curves, pressing against her clit until she was gasping and clawing at his back. She whimpered when he eased two fingers into her entrance, his heart racing and body aching when she clenched around him.

“Now, James!” she cried, bucking against his hand. “I want your cock! I can’t wait any longer!”

James grunted and removed his hand from her body. He propped himself on his elbows and aligned himself with her sex, crawling further up the bed until the head of his cock was pressing into her…

He rolled his hips forward and hissed when he slid inside of her, her hot, drenched folds parting around his shaft. He pulled back and repeated the motion, soft, pleasure-filled gasps falling past Nassella’s lips as he filled her more and more. James craned his head down, hunched his shoulders so he could watch her face, his body trembling from lust and wonder and love…

He had never felt anything as amazing as her sex taking his cock, the pleasure coursing through his body sharp and clear. He brought one of his hands to cup her face as he continued to pump into her, faster and deeper with each thrust. Her eyes were dark and hooded, fixed on his, her mouth open in awe. She produced gasps in time with the snap of his hips, and as James found his rhythm, realized the health of his body, he pushed himself faster, moved his body into hers frantically, with ever increasing urgency.

He was with her. He was making love to her. After all this time, after all his longing, he was actually inside of her…

Nassella’s lips were moving, producing words. Over the sound of their bodies slapping together James heard her, moaning _yes, yes, yes… ar lath ma, ar lath ma…_

He tried to refine his thrusts, move in ways that she obviously liked. But the sounds she made only grew louder, no matter what he did, and he was going wild with the sensations of her body. His muscles started to clench, a tightness growing in his balls. The friction of his length moving along her tight walls was nearly overwhelming, and he knew he would not last much longer. He closed his eyes and bent himself further, so he could press his lips to her ear, panting into her pointed shell until she was whimpering with pleasure.

“Come for me Ness,” he growled, his hips still rutting into her, pulling his cock nearly out of her body just to drive himself fully back inside. “You feel so good… so good… I want to feel you come…”

He was shaking, holding himself back. Nassella’s body shuddered every time he pounded into her, and he realized they had been inching across the bed. He moved to grip her hip, keep her pinned in place as he drove into her, and she cried out with pleasure as he slammed into her that much harder…

“James!” she keened, her nails scratching into his back. “Fuck James… yes!”

He felt her come as she groaned loudly, clenching almost impossibly tight around his length. James cried out with her, fisting his hand into the blanket. He moved his head to press his forehead to hers, looking into her beautiful green eyes, rutting several more times into her slick sex…

“Ness,” he moaned, lightning shooting through his body as he came. His core clenched and he spilled himself, spurting hot into her sex with the lingering thrusts of his hips, working himself as deep as he could before he softened.

“I love you,” he murmured as he calmed, still slowly rocking into her. “I love you so much… I love you… I can’t believe I get to love you…”

“I love you too,” she mumbled back, still holding him tight. “Creators I love you…”

James’s entire body was shaking, but that subsided as he relaxed. He settled himself over her body, pressing her gently into the mattress, loving the feel of her sweat-slickened skin against his. He engulfed her like this, covered every inch of her body with his own. Her sex shuddered around his cock, an aftershock of her orgasm, and James smiled. He brushed his lips against hers, slipping into a deep kiss when she opened her mouth, inviting him in.

He pulled back after several moments with a sigh, blinking open his eyes to look into hers.

And for the first time since he started having sex, he felt absolutely no guilt. There were no thoughts that he was using her, that he didn’t feel strongly enough for her, that this was something he shouldn’t have done…

He just felt love. Deep, permeating love, a warm, welcome weight over his entire body like an embrace.

Nassella was watching him, her lips turned up in a small smile, her eyes overflowing with the same love, happy and fulfilled and content. She ran her hands in gentle circles over his back, her legs pressed into body on either side. “That was perfect,” she whispered.

James grinned, and nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

 

* * *

 

Nassella sighed with soft disappointment when James lifted himself off her body and slipped his cock out of her. She didn’t like the emptiness it left when he no longer filled her, and immediately wondered how long it would be before he would be ready to do it again. She was still coming down from the soaring height he had driven her to, and was already aching to feel like that once more.

Sex had... never been like that before. She’d had great sex, amazing sex, sure, but there was something else with James she had never felt with any other partner, a deep, grounding love that weighed her down and shot her high, made every move of his body against hers so much more intense. She still felt numb from her orgasm, and she suspected that she would struggle to even sit up, much less walk. He had been clumsy and rough at times, but she could find no fault in his enthusiastic fumblings. Everything about him was perfect…

And his body was… so much more than she could have dreamed. He enveloped her when he was on top of her, immersed her in his scent, in the feel of his skin dusted with hair rubbing against hers, overwhelmed her nerves as every one of his substantial muscles clenched with every thrust of his hips. He was just… _more_ than any other man she had been with.

Her sex pulsed at the thought, though she was still sated and sore from his attentions. She smiled, realizing that sex would be like this every time from now on…

She was growing cold having him gone, so Nassella forced her weary body to roll toward him, pressing herself against him. She slipped her hand over his chest, slowly wandering her hand over his muscles, playing with the hair on his chest, breathing in the sharp scent of his fresh sweat. She’d always found humans, and Qunari and dwarves, smelled stronger than the average elf, and for once actually enjoyed it. She felt herself growing sleepy lying next to him, exhausted from the previous sleepless nights and from making love. But she wasn’t ready to leave him yet, so she forced her eyes open.

James was looking at her when she looked to his face, his blue-green eyes softer now, unlike the burning intensity they’d held when he was moving inside of her. She loved those eyes, and vowed to look at them as often as possible. No longer would she avert her gaze from his in an attempt to keep her feelings in check.

He smiled and lifted his hand to run his fingers through her hair, tracing the shell of her ear. She shivered as he teased over the pointed end, a small moan escaping her throat.

His smiled broadened and he did it again. She shuddered and smiled. “Does that feel good?” he asked her quietly.

Nassella nodded. “Very good.”

He repeated the motion and Nassella felt her weariness being driven away, heat pooling once more between her legs. If he kept that up, she would be ready to take him even sooner.

She continued to trace his body with her hand as he leisurely played with her ear. She left his chest behind and followed the contours of his abs, following the lattice trail lower on his stomach. But then her fingers encountered irregular ridges, thick, smooth bumps of skin that had not always been there.

Nassella lifted her head and looked down, throat panging slightly as she slowly moved her finger along the large, pale scars crossing his body. She had noticed them earlier, but her mind had been too focused on other parts of him to really consider his wounds. “The scars didn’t go away,” she said quietly. She lifted herself up on an elbow so she would look lower, beyond his cock lying soft on dark curls, to his thighs, where similar scars circled their thick width. She remembered he had been limping in the great hall, and tripping on the stairs… “And your legs…” She swallowed, her throat starting to burn.

James’s hand ran gently along her arm. “I guess healing more slowly for a day or so left its mark.” He let out a long breath. “But I promise I’m alright, Ness. Everything else is healed.”

It was almost painful to look at them. Nassella could still see sharply in her mind what those wounds looked like when they were fresh, the bright red blood that had spilled from his body, the dragon tossing him around like a ragdoll…

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore. That wasn’t what he was.

His hand moved more urgently along her arm. “Hey, Ness. It’s ok… please don’t cry…”

She wasn’t going to cry. Not anymore. She opened her eyes and looked at him with a soft smile, reaching to take his hand with hers. “It’s just all so fresh in my mind,” she told him. “But I’ll be alright.”

His eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry I almost left you.”

She was too. And sorry she had spent so long without him. She tried not to think about what the last months could have been like with him, how many more times they could have made love, how much time they could have spent together.

But they were together now, and that just meant they had some time to make up for.

Nassella bent forward and pressed her lips against his highest line of scars. She trembled slightly, but forced herself to kiss along the scars. “But you didn’t leave,” she whispered, moving slowly to straddle his lower body, still brushing her lips where he had been so injured. His hand still clutched hers and Nassella used it to ground herself to him. “You fought and you came back.”

She kissed every scar on his stomach, knowing they surely extended around to his back. Every press of her lips against healed skin affirmed to her that he was alright, helped to replace her memories of blood and torn muscle with warm, mended flesh and breaths of life making his body rise and fall below her mouth. She would never forget what had happened to him, but she would not let it haunt her.

He was shuddering when she finished her journey, her mouth now just inches above the base of his cock. She was hovering above his body, but his shaft had started to rise as she moved lower, and now it was lazily reaching upward, the tip brushing against the slight peaks of her breasts hanging below her. Nassella grinned and continued down.

“You know,” she murmured as her lips encountered stiff curls. “You’re bigger than I imagined.”

James moaned, and when she glanced up, found that he was propped up on his elbows, watching her, the blaze once more burning behind his eyes. His nostrils flared, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Really?”

Nassella ran a hand up his thigh and circled the base of him, finding she couldn’t quite bring her fingers to meet. She had imagined James was at least as big as her more well-endowed previous lovers, but he exceeded even that. Whether it was a quality of his humanness, or related more to his already increased size, she didn’t know. And in that moment she didn’t really care.

“Oh yes,” she said, rubbing her hand up the entire length of him, her sex clenching when he let out a guttural moan. He pulsed against her palm, filling in the rest of the way.

She opened her mouth and slipped herself around his flushed head, bobbing with him as he thrust involuntarily up. She flicked her tongue over his smooth tip, then traced around the ridge separating it from the main shaft, before firmly running her tongue down the underside of his cock, tasting herself still clinging to him. She eased herself down, relaxing her mouth so she could take more and more of him. It had been some time since she’d taken a man like this, and James was just _more._ She reached her limit sooner than she would have liked, but grasped what she could not swallow with her other hand.

James was trembling, and she could hear how he was already panting. She looked up and pulsed with pleasure at the look on his face, and the flush on his cheeks and neck. She watched him as she started to move herself along his cock, sucking lightly and working her hand in tandem with the bob of her head. James started to groan, and rock his hips in time with her head…

She loved how he felt stuffed into her mouth, and the hot, smooth feel of him pressed against her tongue. She squeezed the base of his shaft and started to twist gently, growing more and more wet as his groans turned into desperate keens, words in his native language tumbling from his lips. She was glad she had been taught some of that language, so she could understand just what she was doing to him…

“Oh God yes… sweet Jesus… fuck. Ness, you’re… you’re amazing…”

She brought her other hand to cup his balls, rolling them gently between her fingers. James cried out and bucked his hips, the bed shifting as he fell back. He was moving with her more urgently now, and Nassella pushed him, sucking harder, rubbing him more firmly, tugging on his sac…

Everything about him clenched when he came, and Nassella pulled back so that she could more easily take the hot stream of seed that shot into her mouth, swallowing the thick, bitter liquid until he was finished. She sucked a few more times on his softening length until he was clean, then released him with a sigh, her sex aching and wet.

She crawled up his body and laid on top of him, propping her chin on his chest, her body rising and falling as he caught his breath, watching his face as he came down from his high. He gripped her body, his hands resting on the cheeks of her ass.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Jesus fucking Christ… Thank you, thank you…”

Nassella pulled herself up a little more, her body sliding along his, and pressed her lips into his neck, where she should have left a mark earlier, if his body hadn’t healed. “Are you thanking him, or me?” she teased.

James chuckled, the motion moving through her own body. “Both, I think” he said breathlessly. “If he does exist, he must have brought me to you.”

Nassella kissed up to his mouth, smiling when he parted his lips and accepted the soft probe of her tongue. “Well, I enjoyed that too,” she whispered. She opened her eyes and peered into his. “Do you want a turn?”

A slight flicker of confusion crossed his face, and then his eyes widened. His hands clenched on her backside, and he cleared his throat. “I… I think so…”

Nassella raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

He looked away. “I’ve… never actually done that before.”

Nassella’s mouth dropped open. “Never?”

James looked back sheepishly. “No.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not even with Mayra?”

He shifted under her uncomfortably. “I never… we didn’t… It just never came up.”

Nassella tsked. “Oh James…” But part of her was a little excited. Sure, he would be unpracticed, but she liked the idea there was one thing he would do for the first time with her… “You do want to though, right?”

James nodded. “Of course I do.”

Nassella grinned and planted a quick kiss on his lips, then sat up. “Give me a moment to clean up, then I’ll show you what to do.”

Nassella took James’s place, her back propped against a pillow at the head of the bed, her legs spread. She was still aroused, and pleasure rolled through her body as James crawled up between her thighs, his arms under her legs and hands gripping her hips. He looked at her first, his lips parted and eyes dark, teasing her with the hunger in his gaze, and when he slowly, _slowly_ , pulled her toward his mouth, it was all she could do not to shout at him to just _do it._

The first swipe of his tongue was long and leisurely, travelling the entire length of her folds. He took a deep breath when he slid over her clit and she gasped, and licked his lips. “Oh,” he said quietly, full of awe. Nassella shivered, and when he did it again, arched her back slightly off the bed.

He did it several more times, pressing into her more firmly with every pass. Nassella shivered, unaccustomed to the feeling of facial hair tickling her sensitive skin. But it felt good, even if he was not quite driving her to the ceiling yet.

But when he brushed slowly over her clit for the tenth time or so, she groaned. “There James… focus there…”

He stopped his tongue and licked back down, pressing the sensitive bundle of nerves. Nassella’s body pulsed, and when he started to circle gently around it, felt more arousal flow from her entrance. James dipped his tongue lower to lap it up, then returned to her clit and circled some more.

“More,” Nassella gasped, feeling her breaths elevating even more. “Harder…”

He obliged and Nassella jumped, an unexpected jolt of electricity shooting through her. She reached for his hair and buried her hand into the strands, pushing him closer, lifting her hips into his mouth. James took her clit between his lips and started to suck. Nassella moaned, those exclamations turning to cries the longer he worked…

She stopped directing him. He worked at her clit with tongue and lips, and when he gently used his teeth Nassella’s mind went blank, sparks and fire burning from her core to her limbs. She was aching to feel him inside of her, but loathe to make the sensations his mouth was drawing from her body disappear for even a moment.

He was humming as he worked, and when he shifted his focus and started to press the tip of his tongue firmly against her clit, Nassella groaned, her muscles clenching.

“There!” she cried desperately, rutting against him. “Right there!”

He pushed ahead with the same motion until she fell, her vision going black as pleasure coursed through every inch of her body. He sucked on her clit through her orgasm, until she was tugging his hair away from her, overwhelmed with the sharp sensations.

He was panting with her as he kissed his way up her body, a large grin on his face, his lips glistening in the candlelight. “How was that?” he asked her.

Nassella moaned. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” she gasped.

James chuckled, and pressed a kiss against the corner of her mouth. He smelled like her, and Nassella liked it. “I know how to use my fingers,” he told her. “That helped I think.”

“I don’t even care,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “But now I’ll want you to do that all the time.”

“Sounds alright with me,” he responded. He bit at her bottom lip. “You taste… amazing.”

She laughed, and James ran his hands down her body, teasing his fingers between her legs. She opened to him and sighed as he started to stroke her. “Are you ready to go again?” he asked, voice low and dark. He lowered his hips and pressed himself against her leg, his cock hard and hot.

Nassella pushed on his shoulders and encouraged him to his back. He moved willingly and she straddled his hips, his cock jutting up against her stomach. She was still swollen and wet, and when she lifted herself up and onto his cock, found herself easily sliding over nearly his entire length.

“Creators yes I’m ready,” she gasped as James moaned, his large hands gripping her hips, guiding her down.

She had not taken him entirely the first time, but Nassella wanted to now, and worked herself down around the entirety of his cock. She rolled her hips gently against him, watching his face as she moved, moaning softly with him as he pressed against the back of her sex. It was painful, how much he stretched her, but she moved bit by bit, adjusting around him, bringing a hand to her clit to help her open even more. Finally, _finally_ , she took him, and ran her hands over his stomach, relishing the feel of him filling her.

“Fuck you feel amazing,” she told him, tightening the muscles in her core around him. He groaned and kneaded at her hips.

“Are you… are you ready?” he asked her, his voice shaking slightly. His eyes wandered from her face down her body, stopping where they were joined. He swallowed and lifted his hips up slightly, as if he could force more of himself inside of her.

She answered by lifting herself up on her knees, then dropping back down. They moaned together, his cock rubbing hot and hard along her sex, sharp pleasure running through her body in a quick wave. She repeated the action and gasped when James pulled on her hips and lifted his own into the air, driving himself in faster.

“Yes, like that,” she murmured, rising up again. James lifted her, nearly off of his cock, and together they moved back together.

Nassella lost herself as she started to ride him in earnest, overtaken by the sensations of his cock pounding up into her with fast, hard snaps of their hips. James moved her body so easily that eventually she was barely assisting him, and just let him move her up and down the length of his cock. She grasped his arms and held him tightly, watching his face with unfocused eyes as he drove her higher and higher…

His brows were furrowed, his eyes focused intently on where his cock was driving into her entrance. Nassella whined softly. He was so sexy when he looked like that, entirely devoted to the task at hand, distracted by nothing, moving with sure, quick efficiency.

She came as she watched his face. “James!” she cried, body tensing and aching with pleasure. He growled, still driving into her, and Nassella felt herself going numb. It was so much more intense now, as she clenched tight around him and her sensitive walls exploded every time his hard cock slid along them. “James please,” she groaned, falling forward as she lost the strength to sit up.

He sat up with a surge of muscle. Nassella looked at him with hazy eyes and whimpered when he crashed his lips into hers. He sucked at her lips as he continued to bounce her along his cock, grumbling and growling deep in his throat as he moved. She clutched weakly at his waist, beyond pleasure or pain, just aching from the feel of him…

He finally came, slamming her down around his entire length and spurting into her. She felt his spend spreading hot inside of her, and shuddered at the way his cock pulsed with each beat of his heart. “I love you Ness,” he muttered, still moving her along his length. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

She was spent, exhausted, and couldn’t even murmur a reply. She just leaned forward, pressing her forehead into his chest, breathing in his scent and recovering from the exertion.

She was still breathless when James lifted her up and off of him, setting her gently down on the bed. Nassella couldn’t move, her limbs useless weights at her side. Her eyes were heavy, and she could only blink in the dim candlelight as James pulled back the blankets and settled them over her body. He joined her, squirming his body close to hers and nuzzling his nose into her neck. “Are you ok Ness?”

She nodded, already half asleep. She was buzzing now, feeling returning to her extremities. James pressed his lips against her cheek, and she could feel him smiling. “Get some sleep,” he whispered.

“I don’ wanna,” she sighed, slipping her arm around his waist, his skin still hot and slick. “I wanna fuck you like that all nigh’.” But she couldn’t bring herself to move. She had slept so little in days.

“We’ll have time later,” James said, still smiling. He pulled away from her neck and settled her against his chest. She could hear his heart beating, still a little too quickly. But it was so, so strong.

Nassella smiled as she fell asleep, engulfed by him.

They had time.


	118. Epilogue

Nassella woke with the first light of dawn, cocooned in the soft blankets covering her bed, and pressed against a firm, hot body. She took a deep breath without opening her eyes and smiled. Her bed smelled like James, his sharp human scent overpowering everything else, and she was warm from the heat of his body, still a little sore from their night of lovemaking. It made her happy to her core to wake up like this, to have him by her side.

For the first time in years, she felt like she was home.

She blinked open her eyes and watched him sleep for several moments, peaceful and without pain. She could get used to the sight, of seeing him relaxed and happy in her bed. It was what he should be, what he deserved to be, and she almost couldn’t believe that she now had the chance to be a part of it. He was beautiful like this, and it was all she could do not to touch him, wake him up with a kiss so she could look into his eyes and smile with him.

But she also wanted him to sleep. After everything that had happened, he deserved to rest. So she contented herself with his sight, knowing she would have her chance to kiss him soon enough.

She lay for several moments, drinking in his features, and then she was interrupted by a knock at her door. She tensed, but didn’t move, hoping the intruder would go away.

But the knock sounded again through her chamber, more insistent this time, so Nassella slipped from her bed and James’s side with a sigh. She was naked, but remembered their clothing strewn across the room. She padded down the stairs and found James’s tunic, slipping it on like a nightdress, fastening up the front until she was covered.

She opened the door at the third knock, catching a young, wide-eyed messenger by surprise, her fist raised in the air.

“Yes?” Nassella asked the woman.

“Your Worship,” she said with a small bow. Nassella resisted the urge to grimace. “I was sent by Lady Montilyet. She says there is much to discuss now that the Breach is closed…”

Nassella let her face fall into a frown at that news, and shook her head. “No,” she stated. “I will not be attending any meetings today. Anything the Ambassador wishes to discuss can wait until tomorrow, and I trust her and my other advisors to make any decisions that must be seen to today.”

The messenger cleared her throat. “So I should tell her…?”

Nassella’s lips quirked up slightly, her frown turning into a grin as she thought of the man waiting for her in her bed. “Tell Josephine I will be taking the day to myself, and that I am not to be disturbed unless… the fortress is on fire. She is free to use her discretion for any matters that need immediate attention.”

The woman nodded and turned on her heels to leave. But before she reached the stairs leading down the tower, Nassella called out to her. “Wait! I would like my meals to be sent up to me.” Then she smiled. “Enough for two.”

“Of course, Your Worship.”

Alone once more, Nassella skipped back up the stairs to her room. James was still sleeping, though he had turned in her absence to his stomach, the majority of his body now uncovered. Nassella bit at her lip, smiling as she traced her eyes over the lines of his body, marveling at the strength contained in his back, and at the firm, delicious rise of his ass.

She wasn’t going to be able to keep her hands to herself if she rejoined him, so instead Nassella turned and wandered out to her balcony, drawn there by the bright yellow sliver of light that had appeared around the side of one of the mountains surrounding Skyhold, as the sun made its ascent past the Frostback peaks. Bracing herself against the cold Nassella leaned against the railing, soaking in the glow of the winter sunrise.

She was happy. After years of struggle, heartbreak after heartbreak, fighting and pain and death… she could look ahead and feel hope. She had survived the end of the world with nearly everyone she cared for, and they could continue to bring the world peace. And she could do it with a man she loved by her side.

But it was a bittersweet happiness. She had lost nearly as much as she had gained. Skyhold was her home now, but she could not forget her clan and the Free Marches, still ached knowing they were gone, that she had not saved them. All she had wanted in the beginning was to return to them, and now when she might have had the chance, they were gone. James too, had lost so much to be there now, and though she flushed with joy having him with her, she recognized the pain he had endured as well.

And Solas was gone. Solas, who she had loved and wanted for so long, who had guided her and loved her in return. She still felt things were unfinished between them, the ends of their relationship like frayed ropes because he had left without a goodbye. She could no longer be angry with him, but she was sad, in a way, still left confused and a little hurt.

 _But I’m not sad he ended things,_ she mused as the sun made its way completely from behind the distant mountains. _I’m with James because of that… and maybe Solas knew that, maybe he knew who I really wanted. And if he knew he was going to leave, ending things was the right thing…_

It did not explain why he had not said goodbye, and though Nassella hated that she did not know what he was doing, or where he was going, she was not angry with him. Not anymore.

She was watching a pair of eagles soaring among the clouds, still wondering where Solas might go, when she heard feet moving in the room behind her. Nassella turned with a smile, pleased to find James up, walking to join her on the balcony wearing nothing but his breeches slung low on his hips. Nassella swept her eyes over his stomach, seeing the scars on his body for the first time in the full light. She swallowed hard. They were even more prominent and extensive than she had realized.

But his movements were unpained, and other than the slight limp in his gait, he was otherwise healthy. She also noticed that his musculature was already reforming, the glimmer of green in his eyes as he looked down at her and smiled evidence that his fade-touched powers had returned in full.

“Good morning,” he said huskily, slipping his hand around her hip and leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head. “I was a little worried when you weren’t there when I woke up.”

“I wanted to give you the chance to sleep,” she responded. She glanced up into his eyes and grinned. “But I’ll admit I was _very_ tempted to wake you up.”

James chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver through Nassella’s body. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

Nassella bit at her lip and leaned into him. “I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow morning.”

His face broke into a wide smile. A look of wonder crossed his face, and he shook his head. “I almost can’t believe that we… that we’re…” He took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, that actually being here is still a little strange.”

“I know,” Nassella agreed. “But it’s good. Right?”

James nodded, and bent down to press his lips to the top of her head again, a gesture that made Nassella feel cherished and protected and loved… “Yes. It’s amazing.”

Nassella smiled and slipped her hand into his, looking back out over the railing. Now that she was outside, she found herself enjoying the morning, and watching the bustling people down below. She liked knowing that for once everyone in the fortress was likely happy, weights lifted off of everyone’s shoulders with the closing of the Breach. Some of her people could start going home, she realized, return to the lives they had left when the chaos began. She felt that bittersweet taste, knowing she could not return, but it was not so strong with James’s fingers intertwined with hers.

“What were you out here thinking about?” James asked after a moment.

Nassella sighed. “Right before you showed up, I was thinking about Solas.”

She felt him tense.

“Oh,” he said.

“Not anything like _that,_ ” Nassella said, realizing what he might be thinking, learning her thoughts had turned to her former lover after their own night of passion. “I’m just… curious about where he went, and why he didn’t say goodbye.”

“I thought you said it didn’t matter?”

Nassella’s face started to heat. “It doesn’t. I’m just… hurt that he left like that. That’s all.”

James didn’t say anything, and Nassella grew worried. “You’re angry,” she said after a moment, wishing she had kept her thoughts to herself.

“No, I’m not,” James said, and his voice was soft. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I know you loved him, and for so long that made me so angry and upset, and I just… don’t want to feel like that anymore. I just want to love you, and not worry about him or what you felt for him…” He let out a long breath. “I realize you might still think about him, but I don’t want to feel like he’s… still between us. I don’t like how I act when I think of him.”

Nassella swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Of course James wouldn’t want to be constantly reminded of Solas. Their relationship had been so turbulent, she should _want_ to keep those memories at bay. “I understand,” she whispered. “I’ll try not to bring him up again.” She looked up at him. “I only want you James. Not him, not anyone else.”

He smiled softly and nodded. “I know, Ness.”

She smiled back. “I wasn’t just thinking about that,” she said. “I’ve also been thinking about the future, and what I’ll do next.”

James’s expression turned thoughtful, and his brows pinched slightly together. “Oh… I haven’t thought about that.”

“I haven’t that much either,” Nassella offered. “I’m just feeling more hopeful today, and… and I think we can still help people with the Inquisition.”

“Like what?” James asked.

Nassella opened her mouth, then let out a small laugh. “I’m not entirely sure yet. That’s probably what Josephine wants to talk about…” She shook her head and looked out over the morning view. “I suppose we’ll figure it out later.”

“Yeah,” James agreed and pulled her in a little closer. “And whatever you do, I’ll be with you.”

And Nassella could almost cry, hearing those words, and she hated herself for not realizing what he was to her sooner. A man who not only loved her, but respected her, was not afraid to _follow_ her, who never had, and never would leave her…

She took a deep breath and blinked away her tears. She would not cry. Not on this first morning together. There would be plenty of other times to cry. That morning, she just wanted to bask in his love.

So Nassella chased away the last of her solemn thoughts and returned to those she’d had the moment she woke.

“Well, I may not know what I’ll be doing tomorrow, or in a week, or in a year… but I know what I’ll be doing for the next hour or so,” she said, turning toward James, a slow, suggestive smile spreading across her lips.

James watched her mouth and smiled in return. “Oh? And what is that?” he asked, his hands settling below the cheeks of her ass and lifting her off the ground. Nassella giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist, clasping her hands behind his neck.

“You,” she said, leaning in to take the curve of his lips with her own.

 

* * *

 

Naomi sat with her back against the rough stone walls of Skyhold, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the chilly morning air, turning the ring around her finger and watching the way the rising sun shone through the cluster of gems. She smiled to herself, almost unable to believe that it was really there. It was why she was up so early, because the presence of that ring had kept her from sleeping.

She was engaged.

Two years ago, she would not have thought it possible, would never have believed she could find someone like Cullen to love, that someone like him would want to marry her.

Of course, two years ago, she had still been on Earth, living with her parents, and worrying about her future and her career.

It dampened Naomi’s happiness, thinking about those times. So much had changed since that vacation with her family, and she had lost so much. Her parents would never meet Cullen, would not see her married. She blinked away a tear and continued turning the ring in the light. It still made her ache, thinking of them, knowing they were gone, along with her siblings.

It was definitely not what she would have thought her life would be, two years ago.

They would have liked Cullen, she decided. He was kind, brave, and gentle, and he made her happy. That was all they had ever wanted, for any of their children.

They were happy for her, Naomi knew. Happy to see that despite the pain and sorrow, she had found love, that she had found a way to live in this new place, and hopefully even thrive. They would be proud too, she thought, of her and James, and of everything they had done for themselves and for this new world.

She still wished they could see it.

But they knew. They might be dead, but they weren’t gone, and Naomi took comfort in that. _And I am convinced,_ Naomi recited to herself, _that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow, no power in the sky above or in the earth below – indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God._

They weren’t gone.

And Naomi smiled, because even more was true. After these years of violence and fighting, it was over. The threat to her new home had passed.

She could look to her future with hope and anticipation, excited to see what these next two years would bring.

Footsteps scuffed across the balcony’s stones and Naomi looked up to find Cullen joining her, his hair still tussled from lovemaking and sleep, his body covered in thin underclothes. He padded to her side with a still-sleepy smile, accepting the embrace of the blanket Naomi held open to him in welcome.

He slipped his hand around her back and clutched her waist when he was settled in the warmth, kissing her softy on the mouth, his lips turned up in a smile. “Good morning, my love,” he whispered, his golden eyes pouring love into hers. Naomi smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Good morning, liefje.”

Cullen sighed happily. “I suppose I should say, ‘my fiance’, instead.” He sighed again. “Maker, I love the sound of that.”

Naomi felt like her entire body was glowing. “I love it too.”

Cullen clutched her closer. “You’re up early this morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Naomi replied.

“Why not?”

“I’ve been thinking too much,” she told him. “About being engaged, and what it will mean when we’re married.”

“Are you worried?” he asked her, his voice a comforting rumble travelling through her body.

“No, not at all,” she said with a smile. “This is one of the things I’ve felt sure about in years.” She let out a long breath. “No, I’m just… wondering what we will do. Now that the Breach is closed, what will the Inquisition do?”

Cullen shifted. “There is still work for us to do. The Breach may be closed, but much is still in chaos.”

“So we will stay here?”

“For the time being.”

Naomi chewed on the inside of her cheek. “And after that?”

“I… am not sure,” Cullen admitted. “I had not thought much beyond this, beyond the Breach and defeating Corypheus.”

“I know what you mean,” Naomi responded. “I haven’t thought about what I would do without the Inquisition… until now.”

Cullen lifted his hand and reached for her chin, tipping her face up toward his. “I know that I will be with you,” he said warmly, one side of his mouth quirked up in a grin. “And the rest we will figure out together.”

Naomi smiled and nodded. “Ok.”

Cullen kissed her again, just as softly as before, but much longer. Naomi melted in his embrace, in that moment happier than she had ever been.

“I know one thing we will do,” Cullen said when he pulled away. He was smiling, and his thumb stroked her cheek. “We will be married.”

Naomi’s heart jumped. “How does that work here?” she asked.

Cullen looked so happy when he answered, and Naomi hoped he would look like this forever. “There is a ceremony, with a Chantry mother…” He paused. “Unless you don’t want that.”

“I want to be married how you want to,” Naomi decided. “It will be close enough to what we would have had on Earth.”

Cullen nodded. “We can go talk to Mother Giselle tomorrow. It won’t take much to arrange. We could be married in a week, or sooner if you would like—“

“Wait, slow down,” Naomi said, her heart starting to race. “We just got engaged. I… I didn’t think we would be getting married for… for months yet!”

Cullen frowned slightly. “Oh, I thought… I thought we would want to sooner…”

Naomi swallowed. For some reason, as excited as she was, the thought of getting married in just days was too much. “I’d like… a little more time to get used to this,” she said quietly. He looked disappointed, and Naomi wished she could be ready like him. “Back on Earth, weddings were planned for months,” she explained. “That way family could be there.” She swallowed, reminded once more of all the family that would not be there for her. But Cullen could have that. “Don’t you want to tell your sister? Give her a chance to come? What about the rest of your siblings?”

Cullen’s disappointment had disappeared, replaced with a sheepish grin. “Yes, I suppose I would like that.”

Naomi leaned closer to him. “We love each other Cullen. That’s not going to change before we get married. And getting married really won’t change much either. Just what I call you.”

He smiled fully, and nodded. “Alright. I will write to them.”

Cullen tipped her chin back up and pressed his lips to hers. Naomi smiled into the kiss, realizing she would be able to kiss him for the rest of her life.

They were falling deeper into the embrace when she heard voices drifting from the balcony above. She tried to ignore them, but something about the timbre of the voices was too familiar, and she realized when Cullen pulled back for a breath what she was hearing.

“Cullen,” she whispered, looking up. “Does that sound like James up there in Ness’s room?”

Another muffled sentence fell down, and Cullen nodded. “Yes, I believe it is.”

A smile split Naomi’s face. “Oh my God… do you think they spent the night together?” she whispered excitedly.

Cullen chuckled. “I’m sure of it.”

Naomi let out a soft, excited squeal. “Oh I can’t believe it! Finally!” She looked back at Cullen. “If all goes well, Ness will be part of the family next!”

Cullen nodded. “I don’t doubt it.”

It was perfect, the final piece falling into place. Her brother and her friend had found each other, after so long denying themselves, and Naomi was relieved to know that her silence had not ruined their chances in the end. They were happy, and that made Naomi even happier.

Then the sounds from above changed. Nassella giggled, and then there was the distinct, clear sound of lips moving together…

Naomi started to blush. Happy as she was for them, listening to her brother and friend was an entirely different matter…

When she heard James moan, Naomi decided she’d had enough.

She rose to her feet at the same time as Cullen, both of them ready to leave the lovers above alone. They retreated into their room with soft laughs, closing the cold winter air away. Still wrapped together Cullen guided Naomi toward the bed. He eased her down and laid on top of her, his eyes roving over her face. “I will wait,” he murmured, one hand caressing her waist. “But I want to be married to you as soon as I can. I don’t want to wait a moment longer than I have to to call you my wife.”

Naomi blushed, running her hands along Cullen’s jaw, trailing her fingers through his beard. “That sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks!
> 
> Except it isn't! I'm planning sequels, so keep your eyes peeled for more from Naomi, Cullen, James, and Nassella!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! You are all amazing!


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